by Drea Stein
Another woman came in, a long tall drink of water, with long blonde hair swept up in a messy ponytail, wearing jeans, paint-spattered sneakers, and a flowing peasant blouse. She took a seat near Ellie, sending her a wide, friendly smile.
Colleen greeted the newcomer, cheerily. “Lydia. You came. Nice to see you. What it’ll be? White wine?”
The other woman laughed. “Hell to the no. Bourbon, neat, to start, then we’ll see.”
Ellie’s ears pricked in recognition. Another Southern girl.
“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Colleen said, pouring a shot of bourbon into a glass and sliding it over.
“What doesn’t?” the woman, Lydia, said, sighed, took a sip, and savored the bourbon as it went down. Colleen smiled at Ellie.
“Lydia, this is Eleanor DeWitt. Ellie, this is Lydia Snow. We met each other at the playground.”
“Pleasure,” Ellie drawled, and she caught Lydia’s smile. She had green-brown eyes and sandy blonde hair that appeared completely untouched. The girl was a knockout, with little or no makeup and an earthy, take it or leave it kind of beauty.
“Oh, a fellow refugee from the South? Where you from, and are you any relation to Bobby DeWitt?” Lydia’s words tumbled out in a stream of questions.
“He was my husband,” Ellie said and smiled, trying to press down the feeling of sadness at the mention of his name. Besides, it had been over a year. She could finally say it without tearing up.
“Wow.” Lydia looked suitably impressed. “My dad was a big fan. I remember the commercials from when I was kid.”
Colleen paused, leaned on the bar. “You mean Bobby Dean? The guy in the car oil commercials? You were married to him?” she asked.
Ellie nodded, feeling her hands wrapping tightly around her glass. “That was my Bobby.”
“Wow,” Lydia said again. “I mean, sorry for your loss.”
Ellie looked up, touched by the obvious sincerity in Lydia’s voice.
“It’s been over a year, more like two now, but me and Bobby went way back.”
There was a silence, the dead air filled with the pity that she had grown to dread. She needed to change the subject quickly before things turned more morose.
“So where are you from and why do you need bourbon?”
“I’m from Georgia and I need a drink because of a man.”
“Isn’t it always the case,” Ellie agreed.
“Too bad this one happens to be three feet tall and only five years old. I can only imagine what a little hellion Josh will be when he reaches teenage years.”
Ellie wasn’t sure what to make of this.
“Don’t worry,” Lydia said, as if reading her apprehension. “Josh is my brother, well, half-brother, if you must know the truth. I am only temporarily in charge of him. Still …” She took another breath and shuddered.
“No word on when his mother will be back?” Colleen asked sympathetically.
“His mother?” Lydia snorted. “I am still hoping that his babysitter shows up soon. Apparently she’s taken a detour to Ibiza. You know, in Spain. I am not sure when I’ll see her again. I once spent what I thought were two weeks there.”
“What do you mean?” Ellie asked.
“I mean two weeks turned out to be two months. It was during art school, but that place has a way of making time slow down. And no one minds a bit.”
“I’ll be happy to meet you at the park tomorrow. We can let the kids run around like hellions and get some of that energy out,” Colleen said. “Ellie said she’d meet us too.”
Colleen and Adele had met Ellie while out on a walk, and Adele had immediately charmed Ellie by asking if her suit was vintage Chanel. Ellie had decided that she and the little girl were kindred spirits.
“How’s she treating you, luv?” Quent boomed as he appeared from the back. His arms were folded across his chest, and Ellie could see that Colleen had to suppress a slight jump at the way he had snuck up on her.
“Wonderfully as always. A real treasure you found here.”
“I know. Too bad she’s leaving me to sell pretty French fripperies and the like.”
“You know she wasn’t meant to work in a bar all her life,” Ellie said, enjoying trading banter with Quent. She had to admit that this was part of the reason she kept showing up at the pub. She could easily be sitting on her balcony, enjoying a glass of wine while staring out over the water, but something about Quent’s smile kept pulling her back. It was almost enough to stop her thinking about Bobby.
“She’s good enough at it,” Quent said, clapping Colleen on the back.
“When’s the grand opening?” Ellie asked, turning to Colleen.
“About three weeks. Regatta weekend,” Colleen answered.
“I’ll be there with my checkbook in hand,” Ellie promised her.
“Make sure you invite me to your grand opening. I have something for you,” Lydia chimed in.
Ellie passed a few minutes listening to Colleen and Lydia talking about something one of the other moms had done at school. She was trying to follow along when she noticed that Quent was still standing in front of her, drying a glass that he’d already dried. She looked at him and was surprised to see he looked nervous.
“How are you doing, Ellie?”
“Lovely, and how are you, sugar?” she drawled. Quent looked good, she decided. There was something very nice about the way his v-neck shirt settled over his chest and his arms. His arms. She had never been a fan of overly muscled men, but Quent’s arms were massive and he looked like he could crush a tree limb with them. For a moment she wondered, very briefly, what it would like to be in those arms. Would she be crushed or comforted?
“I’m fine,” Quent said, then he took up another glass and began to carefully polish it.
She waited, then asked, “Everything turn out okay with that family emergency of yours?”
Quent nodded sheepishly. “They’re distant family but, yes, everything is settled for now. Enough about that. I heard there was a spot of trouble that night,” he said, glancing over at Colleen.
“She handled it well, got him out the door and into a cab.”
Quent nodded, and then said, as if trying to be casual, “You’ve been coming here a while now.”
Ellie nodded. She looked around. The pub was mainly empty, and though Colleen and Lydia were still chatting while Colleen restocked the garnishes, she had the distinct feeling that they were very interested in her and Quent’s conversation.
“That I have. Looks like a fine summer you have coming up,” she said, not knowing what else to say. She started to take a sip of her wine, then put it down. She reached for the glass of water that Colleen always poured for her and had a sip of that instead.
“Weather is lovely,” Quent agreed, seeming happy to talk about it. “You know, it’s good boating weather.”
“I suppose,” Eleanor said. She knew Quent liked to fish, since there were a few pictures of him on the wall, on a boat, holding up the obligatory fish.
“Well, I was wondering if maybe if you’d like to go out on my boat with me sometime. See the harbor?”
“On your boat? Fishing?”
“Well, no, not unless you wanted to?” Quent smiled hopefully, then added, “Maybe just a tour. See the sights. The weather’s going to be fine for the next week or so.”
Eleanor was shocked and didn’t know what to say. “Well … I …”
It was on the tip of her tongue, ready to find some excuse, then she looked at Quent. He looked earnest and hopeful and without any trace of guile about him. She realized that he was asking her out. On a date. She swallowed. It had been a long time, a long time since she had gone out with a man.
“Of course, if you’re busy, no worries. Summer lasts a long time,” he said, giving her the option of an out, but she knew in an instant she didn’t want to take it.
“Why, that would be lovely, darling,” she answered, keeping her voice casual as if it were no big deal that s
he had been asked out by a man.
Quent seemed to finally breathe, and a big smile cracked across his face. There was another awkward pause, then he scratched his cleanly shaved head. “Well, I think there is some stock in the back that needs to be checked. Would Tuesday work?”
She nodded. Quent smiled again, then lumbered in the back, muttering something about a refrigerator hose that was acting up. Ellie stared at her drink until she became acutely aware of the regard of both Lydia and Colleen.
“What?” she asked, trying to keep her tone filled with innocence.
“Nothing,” Colleen said. “I don’t think Quent has ever asked a woman out on his boat. From what I hear, it’s strictly for his fishing buddies.”
“It’s just a boat ride.”
Colleen shot a look at Lydia. “Hey Lydia, down south, what did a guy ask you to do when he wanted to get you alone.”
Lydia laughed and answered, “You’d take a drive in their truck down to the creek.”
“And then did they pretend to run out of gas?”
“Something like that,” Lydia confirmed.
“Well, Ellie, when a guy from Queensbay asks you out on his boat, it’s just about the same thing as getting asked to take a ride in a truck.”
“It was just a friendly gesture,” Ellie protested, though she wondered if that was all she thought it was, why she felt so twitchy in anticipation of it.
Colleen mixed up a gin and tonic. “Yup, just a friendly gesture.”
“Oh please, why, he’d have to be crazy,” Ellie protested.
“He’d have to be crazy not to,” Colleen said.
“You’re just being nice.”
“Not from where I’m standing. I hope I look half as good as you when I’m your age.”
“Who says I’m older than you?” Eleanor said, but it was an automatic question.
She had learned never ever to confess to her age. She’d been so much younger than her husband, but it still hadn’t stopped him from chasing after anything in a skirt. She had been a mother so young too, always hiding her age, sometimes trying to be older, sometimes trying to be younger, that she’d forgotten she wasn’t old at all, that she still had a lot of years left.
She’d given her best years to Bobby Dean, and then he had died. Now it was a new chapter in her life, one she was easing into. She wanted more time with her son, Colby, helping him with his business, watching him and his fiancé, Tory, fall in love and begin to settle down. Beyond that, she hadn’t really thought about what came next for her.
“Quent’s one of the good ones. I know he plays the tough guy card,” Colleen said. “But he gave me a job, always works around my schedule. Not sure he really needed another bartender, but he did the right thing.”
Ellie played with the little red plastic stick that came with her water. Not that she had any aversion to a real drink, but she had started to spend quite a bit of time here, and she couldn’t keep up the drinking to match it. Still she came. She wondered why.
It might have been the way Quent had smiled at her when she first walked in, frazzled after her first day at work. She had ordered bourbon neat, thrown it back, and nursed the second one as Quent listened to her talk. She had told him her story, maybe more than she should have, but he’d been a good listener and she found it easy to talk to him.
“It’s just a boat ride,” she said again and looked down when Colleen sent her that knowing smile.
Just a boat ride. And what the hell did one wear on a boat ride? Shopping, she would have to go shopping. The right outfit almost always made her feel better and ready to conquer new challenges.
“I haven’t a clue what to wear.”
Colleen laughed with her. Ellie, though, quickly sobered up.
“What’s the matter? I mean, you obviously like him,” Lydia asked.
“Well, of course I do, but well …” Ellie paused, took a sip of her wine. “It’s been a while. I was married to my husband for a long, long time. I’m not sure I remember how to do this,” Ellie confessed.
Colleen laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t ask me,” she said. “I’ve made a hash of my life. But I have a feeling you’ll figure it out. And Quent, like I said, he’s one of the good guys.”
Lydia shook her head. “I only date down-on-their-luck artist types. Once they find out that I actually have a few bucks in my bank account, I can’t shake them. Seems like you could do worse than Quent.”
Ellie looked up, glanced toward the end of the bar where Quent was pouring a drink, and smiled. Quent must have felt her gaze because he looked up and threw Ellie a broad wink. She couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face. She was going out on a date. She looked down into her drink, suddenly feeling shy, and decided she really needed to think about what to wear.
Chapter 14
Colleen was running late of course, something she had tried desperately not to do. Such was the life of a mom. Bunny had been sticky, which set off a cycle of events that led to a rush getting Adele ready, hustling her off to school, and then getting to the shop. She had been stopped by a few curious people eager to know just what was going on at old Phil’s Treasure Emporium. Word was out that something new was coming to town. She had a to-do list a mile long, and she was eager to get to the shop before the morning was gone and it was time to pick Adele up again.
The door was slightly open, and loud noises emanated from within. She pushed open the door and stopped. She took a look around and couldn’t quite believe her eyes.
“What is going on here?” she asked, quickly zoning in on Jake who was standing in the center of the chaos, sipping a cup of coffee.
“As you can see, we’re working. We like to get an early start. Good thing you gave me an extra key.” He took a step toward someone, ducking as some lumber swung his way. “Hey Manny, watch what you’re doing.”
“I thought you were just going to paint and do the floors.”
“We are. But that column needs reinforcing and the ceiling patched.”
She took it all in. It looked like the shop was crawling with people though she quickly realized there were only about four or five workers, but they had set up lights, spread drop cloths. She could see how Jake’s promise to have this all done in a few days might actually be possible.
“And, I think you should have some built-in shelves here, to match the ones on the other side, which we can also patch up for you. They look like they’ve been carrying a heavy load for a century or so.”
She saw what he was talking about. It would look nice to have flanking bookshelves on either side of the back wall. She had thought of doing something like that herself but hadn’t really thought about how to get from idea to actuality.
“I can extend the run of this countertop so you have more space for wrapping,” he said. “You said you were thinking of doing some design work, and unless you want to redo the back office, you probably will want more space to spread out up here in the front.”
She stopped, looking for a place to put her coffee, so that she could focus on what Jake was saying. Music was blaring from a big radio in the corner, and the energy was high.
“Here.” He took her coffee from her, placed it on a stack of paint cans and handed her a folded sheet of paper. She opened it up and looked around, then at him.
“You drew this?”
He nodded and rocked back on his heels, looking slightly embarrassed. “Look, I know I’m no Rembrandt, but I think it captures what you were thinking of doing.”
“No,” she said and looked at the drawing. It was done in a charcoal pencil, she guessed, bold black lines against the heavy white stock. It was perfect, a perfect rendering of what she would have imagined the store to look like in her dreams. “It’s perfect. How did you know?”
He ducked his head, didn’t meet her eyes. “I did some research online,” he eventually answered. “You know, looked at some Parisian boutiques, antique stores, plus I did the renovations on the dog bakery in town. Figured there were c
ertain similarities in how a retail space should be set up.”
She nodded, looking at the paper, felt her stomach clench with the war between desire and practicality. “It’s a bit more work than we discussed.”
“True, but it will cost you a lot more if you go back in and do it later,” he said, as if a complete renovation was entirely possible and within her budget.
“I’m under a deadline,” she reminded him.
“True. I think the work will take an extra week.”
She looked around, the disbelief clear in her eyes.
“I have a break between jobs, and it’s better to keep the crew busy, otherwise they get into trouble, and I have to go and bail them out.”
She looked at him, directly. He grinned sheepishly.
“I’m joking, really,” he said, “but I still have to pay them to make sure they don’t go off and find better people to work for. So you’d be doing me a favor. I can give you my wholesaler’s discount on materials, and then I’ll just charge you for the labor.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why are you doing this?”
Even with all of the noise surrounding them, it seemed as if it was just the two of them, caught in a bubble.
“I think you know why,” he finally said.
Her breath hitched as she waited for him to go on.
“I just got appointed to the Business Improvement Council,” he said. “It’s my civic duty to bring new business in. If I can do it in such a way that doesn’t exactly cost me money, that’s great on both fronts.”
She smiled, trying to hide her disappointment. Of course he wasn’t doing it because of her.
