by Liz Flaherty
Kate watched him ride away, gathering speed as he went. She could almost see when he forgot about leaving her behind. He leaned forward a little more and shifted on the skinny seat of the mountain bike that had probably cost more than her car. She slowed her pedaling even more.
Joann pulled up alongside again. “He’s nice, isn’t he?”
Kate nodded.
“And good-looking.”
She nodded again.
“And not Ben.”
Just in time, Kate stopped herself from bobbing her head once more. “You know,” she said, “I’m thirty-seven. It’s time to let it go. Happily ever after with a husband and two-point-three kids isn’t meant for everyone.” She ventured a sideways smile at Joann. “You make single look good.”
“I think it’s two-point-two now. Penny and Dan had my share—kept Mom happy.” Joann sat up straight, riding with no hands, something Kate was far too cowardly to attempt on the trails. “I make it look good because I chose it. I love a spotless house and designer clothes and going to Europe every year or two. I love my nieces and nephews, too, but I never wanted a zoo of my own. For that matter, I love Dan Elsbury, but I’ve never wanted to set up housekeeping with someone enough to give up my independence.”
“Do you have passion for those things, though?” Kate knew she was beating the passion horse to death; once she’d realized the lack of it in her own life, it became important to know if other people had it. It seemed to be her own peculiar and rather pathetic way of keeping up with the Joneses.
Joann was silent for a moment. The only sound was their tires on the trail. Kate realized they’d pulled far enough ahead of the group they’d been with that they could no longer hear their voices.
“You can laugh if you want—” Joann looked straight ahead, her cheeks pink from more than the effort of riding “—but I’m passionate about insurance. I truly hated it when your house burned—you have to know that—but I was glad I was the one to sell you a homeowner’s policy that didn’t break the bank but still gave you good coverage when the unthinkable happened.”
“I was glad, too.” Kate was quick to agree.
“And life insurance. People I sold policies to when I first went into business—who probably only bought them to give me a hand up because their kids were my friends—are glad now that they did. The fact that I’ve been a part of making terrible times less terrible—well, yeah, passion’s a good word for how I feel about that.” Joann’s bike bounced and she grabbed her handlebars, laughing breathlessly. “Watching where I’m going—I’m still working on that.”
Kate thought she’d spent too much of her life watching where she was going. Maybe it was time to just go.
* * *
BEN DIDN’T LIKE him. Maybe it wasn’t fair. Well, no, absolutely it wasn’t fair—Colby Dehart had done nothing to him except go out with Ben’s ex-girlfriend—but he didn’t like him anyway. Colby’s hair was too neat, his clothes too pressed. Ben didn’t even like his bicycle. It didn’t have a scuff on it, and it was as clean near the end of the ride as it had been at the beginning. Colby had never slid off the trail, never bounced through one of the puddles almost hidden under the strawlike grass they rode over. He was endlessly courteous and even told good jokes worthy of a hospital staff lounge.
Ben told himself it wasn’t jealousy. Kate had been engaged to Tark Bridger and Ben had never been jealous of him. Of course he’d been married to Nerissa at the time and his response to Kate’s betrothal announcement had been honest happiness for her and relief that she’d apparently gotten past her long relationship with Ben.
Colby was riding near the front of the pack, only a hundred or so feet behind his son and the cluster of college-and high-school-age riders who led. He even looked better in a helmet than most of them did. He rode beside Debby when they weren’t single-tracking, laughing with her and looking somehow protective of the pretty young woman on the used bike. The looks she gave him were bright with admiration.
Maybe it was jealousy. After all, Colby wasn’t in the throes of a career quandary, his father wasn’t dying—as far as Ben knew—and he was dating Kate Rafael. He was in his forties but could still attract the wide-eyed attention of girls in their twenties. Not that Ben aspired to that, but it would be nice to know he could if he wanted to.
The other guy even had good legs. Ben flicked a glance down at his own knees as they pedaled fiercely on the upside of a hill. They were scarred and tired from over thirty years of skiing and hiking. On more nights than he liked to think about, bags of frozen peas secured by Ace bandages kept the pain in them at bay.
He’d always loved this ride, the last long one before preparing for ski season, but there was no pleasure in it today. Even the coming-of-fall crispness in the air didn’t offer the excitement it usually did.
“You’re quiet today.”
Before Ben could answer Dan Elsbury’s observation, his phone chirped into his earpiece. He rode off the path, leaning his bike against a maple sapling. “McGuffey,” he said, trying to keep his breathing near normal.
Dan stopped beside him, his gaze questioning.
Morgan’s voice shivered with panic, though Ben could hear her effort to keep it smooth. “I’m sorry. Mom’s a bit worried. Can you come by after the ride?”
“She right there?”
“You got it.”
“Want me to come now?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He turned his bike. “I need to get back.”
“Come on.”
Dan was a better rider than Ben was—he was also far more familiar with the trail they were riding. “We can get to the road right down there, though we’re going to get our feet wet in Tierney’s Creek. I’ll call the cruiser to pick you up.”
“Thanks.” Ben slipped into doctor mode because it was easier than being a son who was already grieving. He didn’t think his father would die today, but it would be soon and there was nothing he could do about it. He could slow it down and he could keep Tim comfortable, but that wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
He didn’t even wave at anyone as he left the trail. Neither did Dan. Penny would know her husband had shifted into cop mode somewhere between the trailhead and their first stopping point. She was used to it.
For just a moment, he considered calling Kate. The thought of the man with the good legs who looked good in a helmet stopped him from speaking her name into his earpiece and pulling up her number in call mode. She was entitled to more than Ben offered. More than he was. But he still wanted her with him.
* * *
“I’M SORRY.” And she was, but Kate had no trouble expressing regret to Colby Dehart, despite his less-than-accepting countenance. “I was looking forward to the game, but Morgan wouldn’t have called me if it wasn’t serious. Ben wouldn’t have left the ride.”
Colby was irritated—there was no denying that. “Surely there’s someone else who could run the tavern. They must have made arrangements for circumstances like this if they’ve been in business any time at all. Standing behind a bar isn’t exactly rocket science.”
“No, and it’s not engineering, either,” she snapped. “I do understand that, but it doesn’t matter.” She didn’t think running McGuffey’s was all that easy, either, but she didn’t see what the job’s difficulty or its lack of importance in Colby Dehart’s grand scheme of things had to do with anything. She was growing less regretful by the second. “It’s friends who need help is what it is, and I have to go.”
She walked away from him, then turned back, reaching for the pen on the inn’s registration desk to write a phone number on a sticky note. “Joann Demotte loves baseball and she’s great company—you’ve met her a few times so you know that. Just tell her I said to watch where she’s going.” Kate nodded at Colby as she passed him. “Thanks again for the invitation, and I’m sorry.”
She left without waiting for his answer, driving the few blocks to the tavern. Ben’s si
ster had sounded on the panicky side of desperate when she called.
“Thank you so much.” Morgan met her at the door. Her eyes, the same mossy green as Ben’s and their mother’s, were red rimmed and filled with anguish. “They’ve taken him to the hospital. I know there’s nothing I can do, but I’m going crazy here.”
“It’s not a problem.” Kate tied on her apron, waving at Mandy. “Is he here in Fionnegan or at Burlington?”
“Here.” Morgan stopped midrush. “Good heavens, I don’t even have my car. Jon dropped me off and drove to the trailhead before the ride. He’s at the hospital now.”
“Take mine.” Kate tossed her the keys, grinning. “Just remember she’s twelve years old and must be treated gently. If you sing Irish ditties to her that your dad taught you, she might get all the way across town without coughing up multicolor smoke.”
Morgan rushed back to hug her. “Thanks again, Kate.”
Kate waved to the pub’s early diners and stepped behind the bar. “Is anyone in the kitchen?” she asked when Mandy came up with a drinks order.
“No, but the soups are done and stuff is cut up to go on sandwiches.” Mandy smiled at her. “We’ll survive.”
Kate nodded, turning up the gin bottle for Skip Lund’s Tom Collins. When her phone buzzed from her pocket, she pulled it out and snickered at the name on the screen. “Just go,” Kate told Joann when she answered, “and have a good time. He’s a nice guy, like we talked about on the ride, but I don’t think he’s for me. I’m holding out for something else.” For passion. For someone who might want to have or adopt children with her. For someone who made her feel the way Ben used to. The way he still could if she allowed her thoughts to go that far.
Which she wasn’t going to do. At all. Not even once.
The Saturday-night crowd in McGuffey’s was more subdued than usual, asking about Tim and Maeve and passing the hat to collect donations for anything they might need. Dinner customers accepted that the menu was more limited than usual and finished off the soups and sandwich makings. Mandy had to leave at ten, but Marce came from the inn bringing desserts left from after the ride and stayed to wash the dishes. Penny and Dan arrived in time for last call.
“What are you doing awake?” Kate handed Penny a glass of white zinfandel. “It’s full dark and everything.”
“I had a nap after the ride, which every muscle in my body needed, thank you very much.” Penny frowned. “I’m sorry. I should have come and helped you.”
“That’s okay. Mandy’s great and when she had to leave, Marce came in.”
“Has anyone called?” Dan brought empty glasses to the bar, reaching to take a sip of the coffee Kate had poured for him.
Kate wiped the scarred maple in front of her with a wet cloth, then went back over the spot with a dry one. “Morgan did. She said they were keeping him in the hospital for the night. She sounded relieved, but she didn’t say anything about his condition. I haven’t heard from Ben, though.”
His single-mindedness was something she loved about him. She remembered thinking, in the days of believing they’d be together forever, that it would make him a good father. Now, pouring herself a glass of wine when she topped off Penny’s, she realized the opposite was probably true. She had appreciated that focus when he was being a doctor and hadn’t usually minded Dylan being her backup escort when Ben had been improving his downhill times, but she wouldn’t have wanted her children to have a standby dad.
Dan refilled the coolers while Marce put the chairs up on top of the tables. Kate followed Penny’s broom with a mop. They imitated Carol Burnett’s charwoman routine—badly—and were sitting on the floor laughing helplessly when Ben came through the kitchen into the bar.
He held up his cell phone to snap pictures of them, then turned his attention to Dan. “You’re a cop but you can’t control two little women?”
Dan shrugged. “You’ve known them as long as I have. Since when do you have any bright ideas about keeping them in line?”
Kate and Penny helped each other up, going to where Ben stood. Dan pulled Penny into the circle of his arm and Kate stood beside Ben. It felt like being back in high school.
“How’s your dad?” Kate searched for grief in Ben’s eyes and saw only fatigue. Relief settled within her, slow and quiet. There was more than one meaning to A Day at a Time.
“Actually, he’s a little better.” Surprise sounded in Ben’s voice. “Morgan and Jon told him they were getting married in a couple of weeks instead of waiting. He got upset at first, thinking he was messing up their plans, but when Jon told him it was a more expedient way to give Mom more grandchildren, Pop quieted right down. Said Mom needed comforting in her dotage and wee ones were a grand way to go about it.”
His eyes brightened with sudden unshed tears, and he turned toward the bar. “Is everything done?”
“Yes.” Kate brushed past him, catching his hand on the way. She got the bank deposit from the compartment under the bar, her fingers still in his. “Are you going to drop it off?”
“Yeah. I’ll drop you off, too. Morgan left your car at the B and B.” He dangled her keys in front of her.
The tavern was closed and the night’s income safely in the night depository at the bank before Kate remembered she didn’t live at the bed-and-breakfast anymore.
“You could stay with me,” Ben suggested. “It’s a two-bedroom suite.”
Most of the time, Kate felt as though she’d matured. Their breakup in the tavern all those years ago had become a painful blip in her past.
Then there were other times.
“No.” She heard the regret in her voice and knew he probably did, too, but there was nothing she could do about that. “Just leave me at my car and I’ll go on to Alcott Street.”
She’d stayed there the night before and even though the downstairs kitchen-living-area were on the tent side of cramped, the two bedrooms and bath on the second story were surprisingly ample. She’d slept well in the new queen-size bed once she’d grown used to the sloping ceiling over her head.
“Okay, but I’m still following you home.” He stopped beside her car. “It’s too late at night for you to go into an empty house by yourself.”
She chuckled. “So you’re my father now?”
“No.” He slanted a sideways grin that slashed a deep dimple into his cheek. “But I figure you’ll tell him and it’ll earn me back some of the points I lost for wearing a ponytail.”
“Good luck with that.” But it was true that her parents loved Ben as surely as Tim and Maeve loved her—that had never changed. “Do you want to see the place when we get there?”
“Sure.”
She showed him the offices first, with the large oak teacher’s desk Marce had been unable to find a place for in the inn and the almost-matching file cabinets Kate found at an auction for a closing business in Montpelier. Even though the building was new, the furnishings kept it New England cozy.
“This is nice.” Ben sounded insultingly surprised. “I don’t know what I expected, but it looks successful. Like you’ve been in business for years rather than just opening Monday.”
“That’s what I was hoping for.” She looked around, prouder than she wanted to admit of their surroundings. “I want people to be comfortable when they come in, whether as job-seekers or clients who need personnel. I remember how on edge people were when they came into Schuyler and Lund.”
“Katy, it’s a law office—those make everyone jittery.” Ben snickered. “Having Skip Lund know your business is enough to put you on edge in and of itself. Has he signed up to use A Day at a Time?”
“He has.” She’d been delighted when her ex-boss called her. “He was quite surprised that we had both bookkeepers and a paralegal on our list.” She led the way to the short hallway at the back of the office and gestured to two narrow doors on the left. “Public restrooms, which I hated to use up the room for, but it seemed necessary.”
At the end of the hall, she slid open
a pocket door. “Here’s home. This is the kitchen.”
The kitchen was, even in its tininess, efficient and comfortable. Had Kate never spent time at either Kingdom Comer or Bright Sky with their six-burner stoves and commercial-sized refrigerators, she would have loved it. She did love it—it just wasn’t any fun working in it because there was no room for anyone else.
The dining area had an old table from McGuffey’s—Mr. Hayes had fashioned a new leg for it—with four prettily mismatched chairs. The staircase divided it from a living room complete with a love seat, two chairs and a small fireplace. A glass-fronted bookcase was built in under the stairs on the living room side. In the same spot on the dining room side, a miniature buffet showed off the beginnings of Kate’s new collection of blue-and-white dishes.
“Wait till you see this.” She led the way up the stairs, her hand trailing along the banister. “It’s very compact. Just two bedrooms with a Jack and Jill bathroom, but there’s this little sitting area at the head of the stairs. I really like how it came out.”
“It’s nice.” He looked around her bedroom, his gaze resting for a long time on the Double Wedding Ring quilt her family had sent her from Tennessee. “It all looks like you.”
She laughed, although the tone of his voice bothered her. It had been sad, as though “looks like you” was a condemnation of sorts. “It shouldn’t. If it hadn’t been for Penny, Joann and Debby—not to mention my mom and sister long distance—the living quarters part would be furnished with one blow-up bed and a lawn chair. Now, that would look like me.”
“Come on down and lock the door after me.” He grinned at her. “And don’t forget to tell your dad.”
“Doofus.”
At the back door, Ben scooped her up and pulled her close to his side, then wrapped his other arm around her, too. “Thanks for working tonight.” His cheek rested against the top of her head, and she felt his weariness right down to her bones. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. “We know our folks are going to die as we get older. Dan’s mom and dad are both gone. Penny and Joann have lost their father. I’m the only partner in my medical practice who hasn’t lost a parent. I’ve had months to get used to the idea, but I don’t think I’m any more ready now than I was when the extent of his heart disease was first known and a transplant was still a viable option.”
