Chapter Eighteen
If Claire were honest with herself, this year’s retreat had meant more to her than words could ever hope to express. She was overwhelmed with gratitude, grateful to friends and family for their support, and to Peter for being willing to build a new relationship by taking the counselling journey with her. Though it made traveling home more difficult. Could they manage the future, utilizing the advice they’d been given? What if circumstances didn’t play out in the way they hoped?
In this new relationship, they had to build a new foundation, no different than the foundation of the Leonardo Bridge. What if they took a wrong step?
Their relationship was soon put through its paces. Monday morning arrived with her alarm ringing at five a.m., bringing her to alertness. She begrudgingly reached for the alarm and shut it off, not wanting to awaken Peter.
She rolled over, pulled on the sheets, and studied him in the bed. She touched his skin, feeling his warmth where he lay beside her. Peter had come home and his vibrancy, his voice and his presence, gave their home new meaning and new life. Laughter and conversation.
How could she leave him to go to work?
Claire didn’t want to leave him, not to go to work, but the bakery needed her, pies and other bakery items required preparation, pie crusts and fillings, cinnamon buns and bread. All of this for their customers. In her life, consumers had played a significant role. No customers equaled an empty cash register. But what mattered most couldn’t be found at a job.
The foundation built at retreat shook. She felt the vibration. It was too soon to spend time apart. It didn’t feel right. His work, her work, had caused problems in their marriage. How did they negotiate a better future?
“Darn it,” she muttered, climbing from the bed. She leaned over and kissed Peter on the cheek, lingering against his face. He muttered a nonsensical phrase in his sleep. She left the bedside, showered and dressed. She thought her heart would break in two while exiting the garage and driving along the road. Halfway to the bakery, the need to talk to her mom about hiring Nora became obvious. If their family friend was still interested in the position, the decision whether to hire Nora or not, should happen today.
Claire was mixing piecrust when the front door of the bakery opened. It wasn’t even 7:00 a.m. What had encouraged her mom to come to work so early? But it wasn’t her mother who came around the corner and into the back room.
“Peter?” Claire shut off the mixer. “Why are you here?”
“You left without saying goodbye.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.” She hadn’t wanted to leave him either, but she left that part unsaid. “But I did kiss you.”
“Wake me up before you leave, honey. I want to say good morning and goodnight each day for the rest of our lives.”
Claire switched the mixer back on, a smile brightening her face. So happy to see him. “Is that why you’re here, to say good morning?”
Peter reached for her mother’s apron and tied it around his waist. Claire’s eyes widened with surprise. She laughed. “What are you doing?”
“Putting on an apron. I don’t think I’ve made a pie before. I’d like to learn.”
“Are you kidding me, Peter Douglas?”
“When I woke up and you were gone, I could have stayed in bed and stared at the walls. I could have acted in a similar manner, traveling to my own place of business. I want my wife. I want to work on our foundation. Show me how to make a piecrust.”
Claire grinned. She couldn’t believe he had come to the family-owned bakery, let alone that he wanted to assist her with her pastry skills. She’d accept his help. She fastened his apron for him, not missing this opportunity to give him a hug. “You can start by washing your hands.”
Peter went to the sink and massaged the soap in his hands. He looked silly in her mother’s apron, but she wouldn’t acknowledge it. She tried not to laugh but couldn’t contain a giggle. When he looked at her, he smiled, accepting the humor.
“If you don’t like my fashion statement, you’ll have to get me my own apron. I’ll be here at least once a week.”
“You’re planning on making this a permanent arrangement?” Claire stopped laughing. His comment surprised her.
“No. I’m lonely without you, and I thought if I helped, we could spend the day together.”
“Share our first adventure?”
“A Monday morning date. We could go for a drive, go for a coffee, maybe take a walk on the beach.”
Claire switched off the mixer and separated the dough into twelve balls, then passed a rolling pin to Peter. “You’ve watched me rolling pastry dough in the past. I begin by preparing the surface, ensuring it’s clean, then coat the surface with flour, so the pastry won’t stick to the countertop. Cleanliness is vital in food preparation. Then it’s time to mold the pastry into a roundish circle prior to rolling.”
“I might need help with the rolling. You might need to come closer.”
Claire shook her head, enjoying the suggestion, then guided Peter. He followed her example. When they completed rolling the dough, it wasn’t exactly flat, it wasn’t perfect either, but Claire had never wanted perfection in her work or her relationship. She’d only ever wanted a spouse who would love her.
“Well done, Peter. Mom would be proud of you, shaping your own dough.”
“It’s not money,” he said, rolling, “but it does feel good creating something with my hands. Is that what it feels like to you when you’re at work? Do you enjoy it? Is it worthwhile?”
She glanced at Peter, pausing with her rolling. “I don’t like the early hours, but it does give me a sense of pride, continuing the family tradition.”
Peter nodded. “It’s too bad Stephanie and Christopher didn’t come into the business. Maybe we made a mistake encouraging them to follow their own dreams.”
“Maybe,” Claire said, feeling wistful, wondering what would happen to the business in the future. They worked together until twelve pie shells were completed.
“What’s next?” Peter asked.
“The filling.”
“Claire, can we make key lime pie? I’m craving it.”
Claire opened the fridge and saw prepared key lime filling. She smirked, thinking of her mother. “It looks like your craving will be satisfied. Did you talk to Mom? There’s filling in the fridge.”
“I might have told her I was coming by today.”
He closed the fridge door and touched her nose, seemingly wiping a spot of flour off her face. Then he kissed her. And in her perception, there was nothing sexier than a man wearing an apron, even if it belonged to her mother. Baking pies relegated to a less important place while embracing Peter’s broad shoulders. Urging him closer, she smothered him with kisses.
“Good morning, you two.”
When Claire realized her parents had entered the workroom, she edged away from Peter but didn’t leave his arms. “Mom? Dad? Why are you here so early?”
Her dad glanced at them in an amused manner. “Peter, why are you wearing Mary’s apron?”
Peter chuckled and shifted closer to her side, pulling her into a hug. “I noticed there’s not many masculine aprons in this family-owned bakery. Maybe we should make some changes, Burt.”
“We’ll definitely be making changes. I’m returning to work.”
“What?” Claire said with a surprised tone. “Dad, you’re retired.”
“Not any longer, daughter. I was bored as heck at home. Now, don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with watching daytime soap operas, but I missed Mary. Never mind that I wasn’t getting enough exercise. Mary and I have come to a decision.”
Claire left Peter’s embrace to retrieve fruit fillings from the fridge. “What have you decided?”
Mary touched Burt’s arm. “Your father’s a little excited. Look, we appreciate the changes you’ve made to the bakery, but in helping your parents have a better life, the business has hurt something far more important to us. Our kid
s.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Peter said. He helped Claire retrieve more fillings from the fridge. “Claire and I can’t blame the business operations for our problems. We need to handle our issues. I…need to make better choices.”
“Peter’s right. Mom, Dad, we should hire Nora. I wanted to talk to you about this.”
“She’s cute and she comes from a good family,” Burt said.
Mary nudged Burt in the ribs. “What does beauty have to do with baking pies?”
“A pretty face behind the cash register is good for sales.”
“Okay, Dad, but Nora might not want to live behind the cash register. Nora likes to bake and likely has other ambitions, too.”
“I sure do,” a new voice chimed in and Claire stood there, astonished, when Nora herself came around the corner and faced them, hands on her hips.
“I know this comes as a surprise, but Burt and I decided to hire Nora,” Mary said, smiling. “We didn’t talk about this prior to hiring Nora, so I hope it’s okay, Claire. We don’t want to upset you.”
“Mom. Dad…I’m grateful you made this decision. Thank you for doing this.” Claire left Peter’s arms and give her parents a hug, then said to Nora, “Welcome to the bakery.” She extended her hand. “I’m grateful you’ve agreed to work for us.”
Nora reached into a bag and pulled out an apron. “Don’t thank me yet. I have some new ideas for recipes, perhaps a few changes as well, so I hope you’re receptive to change.”
“Oh?” Claire murmured, suddenly not sure of this idea.
Nora tied her apron around her waist, confidence and enthusiasm in her expression. Come what may, that’s when Claire decided to accept change. “I can’t wait to hear your ideas.”
Nora grasped the key lime pie filling. “We won’t move too fast. Let’s begin with the ingredients that your Old Thyme customers have come to enjoy. I hear one particular hero has his favorite.”
“I have more to accomplish to earn that title.” Peter pulled Claire nearer to him. “But I’m as excited as the family to have you here.”
“Thank you for the warm welcome.”
“Claire and I, we have an adventure ahead of us. Five people cooking in the kitchen equals a lot of elbows banging against each other.”
“Quitting so soon?” Claire asked, giggling. “Just when I got used to seeing you in an apron.”
“We’ll make sure we return in time for key lime pie.”
Chapter Nineteen
Claire listened to the purr of Peter’s SUV as they drove along the highway. As they left Ocean Park, she studied trees and bushes that lined either side of the road, while passing varying vehicles traveling south. She peered at Peter periodically, reflecting on his relaxed posture, his calm expression, the noticeable emotion in his eyes more so than the space between them. A strip of leather seat. She minded the gap, but as if Peter recognized her need to sit beside him, he patted the bench seat.
“Come on, slide over, sit beside me.”
Claire didn’t take the time to consider they were in a vehicle and traveling at highway speeds. Unfastening her safety belt, she shifted nearer to him. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, refastening her safety belt.
Peter glanced at her momentarily, his hands on the steering wheel. “To the place where we first met. I brought your bathing suit, a towel, and a hastily prepared lunch.”
“Really? The ocean, the beach? It’s the perfect day for a walk beside the water. Not too hot, not too cold.” And she’d be walking beside Peter, which made it all the better. “It’s a good afternoon for it,” Claire said, recalling Sunset Beach. “It’s a weekday, so hopefully it won’t be crowded.”
A pleasant shoreline, a couple could walk for miles on its silty sand. A girl with a family-owned bakery had responsibilities. The beach was her favorite place to escape life in the summer months, and she’d spend a lot of time there. Her body and soul uninhibited and free. Bare feet trekking across sand or wading into the water for a distance, not minding the coldness nipping at her skin, and no other worry other than the water reaching higher than a woman’s waist. Sunset Beach was a popular place for sunbathing or exercise or catching the eye of a guy or two. She glanced at Peter, recalling the moment she’d caught his.
“Do you remember the last time we went to Sunset Beach?” Claire asked.
“As a couple? No, I don’t,” Peter said, seeming reflective. “Tells me it’s been too long.”
“How sad is that. To have a beautiful ocean so close to us and not taking the time to enjoy it. Peter, I wish…”
“What do you wish for? Tell me.”
Claire thought about it. What did she want? “If we had financial freedom, if we could afford to take more time off…”
“We could start new and sell the house. Purchase a swanky singles pad for the two of us.”
Claire grinned, picturing it. A tiny beach house nestled inside a cove near the ocean. She’d always wanted a breezeway, a porch where she could store pieces of driftwood and a bucket for shells. “I’d love to live near the water,” she said, picturing it. “I’d walk on the beach every day.”
Peter placed his hand on her knee. “We could consider it, but it would mean living farther away from Ocean Park, a longer drive to the bakery.”
Claire frowned. The mention of the bakery gave her images of work. She didn’t want responsibility to interfere with their day. “What do you want from the future? Are you serious, could you sell our house, the place where we raised our family?”
“Our home is lived in and comfortable, but I can’t escape the fact that your eyes light up, simply from the idea of living near the ocean. Maybe we should consider it. A place by the sea or our existing home on a quiet, quaint street. Wherever we live, a home wouldn’t be a home without you.”
Claire pushed the dream away. “Maybe the timing isn’t right.”
“Maybe it’s time to put us first. Take what we want from life.”
“How do you think Stephanie and Chris would feel if their parents sold their family home?”
“We’ll ask them, but they’re busy with their own lives. We need to experience our life, too.”
Peter had hidden something from her. Now that Claire stood in a bathroom cubicle, she understood what the secret might be. She’d found her old yellow bikini in the carry bag. Did Peter expect her to wear this itsy-bitsy thing? Where had he found it? The swimsuit hadn’t been worn in years, likely not since she was a teenager or a young wife. Hadn’t she surrendered the garment to a secondhand store?
Reluctantly, Claire stepped into the bottoms, which were too tight. If she moved the wrong way the fabric would roll over her stomach. A ghastly feeling. The bikini top on the other hand molded to her boobs in an uncomfortable and awkward way, squishing them together. Her skin bulged between the folds. She couldn’t leave the cubicle dressed like this. Everyone would stare at her, point at her, likely make fun of her, too.
Why, Peter? She silently moaned. When she discovered a white t-shirt at the bottom of a drawstring bag, she put it on, then placed a pair of white sandals on her feet. She left the change room, feeling uncomfortable. She didn’t dare move in the wrong way.
Peter waited for her outside. She was ready to complain about the bathing suit, but paused, recognizing the wistful expression on his face. He was grinning from ear to ear. Why? She must look terrible.
She shook her head, not sure if she should laugh or cry. “Where’d you find this old thing? I thought I’d given it away.”
Peter came forward, looking at her as if she were eighteen years old again. “Years ago, you asked me to take a bag of clothing to the secondhand store. I saw your old suit on the top.”
“You retrieved it?”
“I held the fabric in my hand. I remembered seeing you for the first time, wearing this suit. I guess…I couldn’t part with the memory any more than I could part with the bathing suit. I didn’t want to embarrass you by letting you know I had kept it
, so I hid it in my underwear drawer.”
Claire felt uncomfortable. “You’re embarrassing me. People are looking at me.”
In truth, there were not that many beachgoers in the vicinity, but one couple walking past, younger and in better shape, made Claire self-critical of herself
“I know it doesn’t fit you,” Peter said, frowning. “I knew you might not be comfortable wearing it, which is why I included the t-shirt.”
Claire shook her head. “News for you, it still doesn’t fit me, and the suit’s still visible beneath the shirt.”
“Hear me out.” He came forward and grasped her hand. “I’ve had the suit in my possession for years. Honey, I wanted to see my wife in this yellow suit again, to take me back to that first moment. I wanted to relive it. It’s why I brought you to the beach.”
He looked at her in a compelling way. A meaningful way. The discomfort receded, replaced by the realization that this moment was important to him, which meant it was important to her as well.
“Why is this scrap of fabric important?” Claire asked, forgetting the few people who walked past. “My body has changed. My clothing style has changed. A woman my age shouldn’t stuff herself into a bikini.”
Her protest didn’t matter to him. Peter studied her as if she were a model. “A woman your age? Honey, you can wear anything you want. You’re gorgeous.” He pulled her closer, squeezing her fingers. “I know it’s a bit tight, but you look like a million dollars wearing it. Be still my heart, lest I have a heart attack.”
Claire studied the wonderment in Peter’s eyes. Her discomfort melted away, her worry of being seen in public, wearing a skimpy bathing suit, didn’t matter. Peter admired her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. One itsy bitsy yellow bikini had only enhanced his view.
She smiled, astonished. “A lot has changed since that moment. Peter, I feel like the girl from the song, Yellow Polka Dot Bikini, who was afraid to come out of the locker.”
A Sea for Summer Page 10
