“They haven’t had to adapt to much. The pies still come out, only later in the day.”
“The pie and cupcake idea was brilliant,” Claire said, “and it’s been well received.”
“The calories are substantial, but it’s a delicious mix,” Nora replied. “You must be excited that Peter supported the changes, especially the café concept.”
Claire turned off the bread machine. “We haven’t spoken much about the bakery since I told him about the offer. To be honest, adding on to the business concerned him.”
“Well, you must have motivated a change. It’s amazing that Peter and you will invest in the business as well. With the six of us supporting the bakery, the café will be successful.”
“What? You have this wrong. Peter and I have had no such conversation.”
“Maybe I’m mistaken, but I’m certain Burt told Jim that we wouldn’t be the only investors.”
Claire stared at Nora, her voiced sentiment causing shock waves to roll through her mind. Was it true? Peter investing in the bakery… It couldn’t possibly be real. He hadn’t been supportive of the café, even so, he had been full of surprises lately. Claire didn’t know what to believe.
“Nora, please be honest with me, is it true? Has Peter invested in the bakery?”
“I see by your stunned expression that you didn’t know.” Nora paused with her work. “I apologize for spoiling the secret. Claire, there must be a good reason that he hasn’t told you.”
Claire stared at the mixer, taken aback. “Never mind Peter, my parents have not told me.”
“And there’s likely a good reason for their secrecy.”
Secrecy. She didn’t like secrets and didn’t know how to feel about this one. “Why wouldn’t they tell me?”
“Isn’t it obvious, it must be a surprise.”
“A surprise.”
“Yes, and when Peter reveals the truth, you must promise to act surprised.”
“Act surprised…”
“I’m sorry,” Nora said with a frown. “I’ve spoiled everything.”
Claire didn’t say anything while spreading flour on the counter. The bread dough came next. She maneuvered it with her hands, rolling it and giving it a few good punches. “Why do men keep secrets? Why can’t they tell the truth?”
“Who knows. A woman leads by example and a man thinks he has the answer for everything. Can I tell you what I know for sure?”
“Go ahead,” Claire replied, reaching for a knife.
“From what you’ve told me, you came close to losing your marriage. Peter might be working too hard at making amends. It does seem like he’s on a mission to ensure neither of you go through heartbreak again. The situation you find yourself in might surprise you, but don’t be angry with Peter.”
Claire portioned the dough into several pieces. “I’m not angry, I wish he had told me.”
“Like I told you before, he probably wants to tell you in his own way. I’m sure he means well. He’s probably got a big party planned.”
“The next thing you’ll tell me is to pretend I don’t know about the investment.”
Nora smiled at her while preparing biscuit tins for her scones. “Exactly, and I know how difficult that will be.”
Claire shook her head, continuing her work. But Nora was right. No different than the new bathing suit or the anniversary weekend, Peter strove to put her first in his life. She hoped he knew how much it meant to her that he soared toward change. Though material objects, even an investment in the bakery, didn’t matter to her. All Claire needed was his love.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The weather promised the perfect weekend for a couple retreating from their busy lives. Brilliant sunlight sparkled on the water. Not one cloud drifted in the sky. In the passenger seat of Peter’s Volvo XC40, Claire scrutinized him, excited about the anniversary weekend.
The mini vacation came as a pleasant surprise. As they zoomed along the highway, Peter’s right hand rested comfortably on the steering wheel. His posture exuded calm and happiness. He glanced her way and smiled. When he returned his attention to the road, she pondered their destination.
Peter hadn’t divulged anything. Not even one clue.
He had worn his best casual clothes: a blue striped shirt lay open at his neck, distressed blue jeans shaped nicely to his hips and waist. The effort implied this weekend meant as much to him as it did to her. When he glanced at her again, offering a mischievous grin, Claire remembered the amusing boy she’d fallen in love with, yet his hidden truths still made her suspicious.
A question rolled round and round in her mind. When would he tell her about the intention to invest in the bakery? And did she have the patience to wait?
Peter winked at her as if he recognized her curiosity. Normally she’d nag at him to learn the truth, such as this drive toward an unknown destination. He’d hinted at Honeymoon Bay for their anniversary, but something seemed off, not only their direction of travel, but also his behavior. He acted differently, caring for her in an overcautious kind of way. After what they’d been through, it shouldn’t surprise her, but Claire wondered if there was something more. Maybe Peter had a reason for his silence. Maybe she should respect his motives and wait for the big reveal. Yet waiting had never been her strong point. The hardest part, thanks to Nora, was knowing a portion of Peter’s kept secret.
Claire glanced at a logging truck they were passing, trying to focus her attention on the anniversary weekend. Peter had been secretive about this, too. Still, it couldn’t hurt to nudge him a little. She fingered his cotton shirt in a tempting, suggestive way. If I give you something, will you give me something, too?
“Where are you taking me, Peter?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he replied, glancing at her. “I’d love to tell you, but do you really want me to spoil the surprise? You like surprises, don’t you?”
“Depends on what it is,” Claire said, amused by his enthusiasm. “This surprise is trying my patience. It’s killing me. I’m dying to know where we’re going.”
“You don’t like surprises?”
“I like the new clothing. Can’t wait to wear that new dress.”
“Chin up, love. Not knowing the destination might seem like I’m denying you, but think of it like this—I’ve put a lot of thought into our weekend. I want to enjoy three perfect days. I promise, you’ll love it.”
“This weekend is important to you.”
“More than you know.”
“You can’t blame me for being curious,” Claire said, stroking his waist. Her fingers slid underneath his cotton shirt; soft skin met her fingertips and teased him. “You have to give me a clue. How long will it take to reach our destination?”
“You don’t play fair.” Peter laughed, staring at the road ahead. “All right. It’s a bit of a journey. It will take us approximately two hours to get there.”
Claire considered the time frame, mentally calculating prime vacation spots. “It can’t be Parksville, the city’s not far enough. Perhaps we’re travelling somewhere near Nanaimo? What about Deep Bay, Fanny Bay, or Denman Island?”
Peter touched her knee, appearing to enjoy the suspense. “Aren’t you curious. I’ll play your game. I’ll release another clue. We’re taking a boat across the Strait of Georgia.”
“We’re traveling by ferry?” Claire said excitedly.
“We’re taking a water taxi from Ladysmith to a remote location, someplace special for my wife, and that’s all you’re getting from me. For now.”
A ferry across the water. If it left from Ladysmith, their destination must be a more secluded, private location. Maybe an island? The perfect place for desire and clandestine cares.
“Okay. I won’t bother you for more answers.”
“Great,” Peter said, returning his attention to the roadway.
It wasn’t long before they arrived at the harbor. Peter loaded her suitcase and his own into a 26-foot water taxi. The breeze threaded t
hrough her hair as he brought a third bag onboard. “What’s inside your bag, Peter?”
“Wine,” he said, smiling. “If you’re lucky, your favorite artisanal cheeses.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
The skookum boat’s engine fired up. They were soon motoring across the water. Claire looked at Peter while listening to the boat’s motor, feeling the ocean spatter against her face. The breeze causing her hair to fly. “Now will you tell me?” she asked, her tone jovial.
Peter touched her face, his fingers sliding through her hair. He grasped a wayward strand that flipped in the wind and tucked it behind her ear. “You forced it out of me. Ruxton Island, our private getaway for the weekend.”
“I’ve never been to Ruxton Island. What should I expect?”
“Honey, I’m satisfying your every desire.” He didn’t speak for a moment as if suggesting all the ways he’d impart her pleasure. “I’ve booked a home with a spectacular view. We have a private boat launch. A quaint cove, and so much more. You can swim naked in the bay if you want.”
“Ha, ha!” Claire tittered at the suggestion. “You say that as if you want me to take the chance. I don’t think so, Peter. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Makes you uncomfortable? What about sunbathing naked?” He looked at her hopefully, smiling.
Claire burst out laughing. “What has gotten into you? It’s like I’m looking at a whole new man.”
“I feel amazing; I feel alive,” he replied, studying the wake behind the boat. “I’m happier than I’ve felt in months.” He grasped her hand. “You’re the reason for my happiness. I’m in love with my wife and I can’t wait to reach the island and share the weekend with you.”
In that moment, Claire felt loved, felt special. Good vibes waited for her on the island, but the emotion passing between her and Peter, this sweet tenderness, was all that mattered. “The weekend has started and I’m grateful to share it with you.”
When they arrived at the dock, Peter helped Claire exit the boat. He passed her suitcase into her hands and then grabbed the other two. The weather promised a perfect day. The sun bright and high in the sky. A gentle breeze blowing warm against his skin as they walked across a planked wharf and climbed a flight of wooden stairs. After passing over a rocky slope with water beneath them, he escorted Claire to a simple white cabin with a wraparound porch. He pulled a key from his pocket while eyeing his beautiful wife. “Our home away from home…”
“What a cozy place,” Claire said, moving toward the porch. She turned around and stared at the way they’d come, taking in a view of the sea. He looked at her, assessing her response, hoping she liked this beach house as much as him.
“The home has a southern exposure,” Peter said. “Sunlight rises from the east in the morning and from the west at the end of the day.”
Claire walked to the eastern side of the house. She pointed. “Look—there’s a bench. A place where we can enjoy our morning coffee.” She eyed him briefly. “What an incredible view. How did you find this place?” She loved the house. He could tell. Interest brightened her face.
A realtor had helped him locate the house, but it was too soon to tell Claire the truth. “I’ve been searching for weeks.” He left their suitcases by the front door and joined her. “We’ve had a lot to overcome. Our anniversary weekend should be special. To celebrate a new life together. Do you want to see inside?”
“You say that as if you’ve already seen the interior.”
“I might have.” Peter grasped Claire’s hand. “I had to prepare the cabin prior to our stay to ensure our needs were met. This is a remote location. We can’t walk to the corner store if you have a craving.” He’d satisfy her cravings…
Peter escorted Claire to the front of the house, sensing excitement in her cheerful expression. He placed the key in the lock and turned it, opening the door. “After you, my love.” He gestured with his hand.
Claire passed by him, walking across the threshold. She paused on the other side of the doorjamb and studied the main room. Peter knew the room wasn’t fancy, but the cabin offered the right amount of luxury. An alleyway of a kitchen with a rectangular counter. A table and four chairs in front of that. A comfortable sofa and a stone fireplace. A hearth and a home. What more did a couple need? Commitment and love.
But what did Claire think? Would she support the choices he had made with her, the work he had done alone? She walked to the table and fingered a wooden bowl filled with shells. He’d purchased the bowl, selected the shells from the cove, and placed the adornment on the table.
He asked the all-important question, “Do you like it, Claire?”
She gazed at him, a quizzical expression on her face. “The shells or the cabin?”
Peter left the suitcases by the door. “The cabin.”
“It’s more than I expected.” She moved to the window and looked out. “It’s private. It’s quiet. And what an incredible view.”
“What should we do now? Would you like to take a walk, go for a swim?”
Claire approached him and grasped his face, hugging him. “Thank you for this getaway. It means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. She liked the cabin. He kissed her.
“If you’re not ready to see the ocean, I could show you the bedroom.”
“I’d like that.” She licked her lips, and the act fired his need. He couldn’t look away from her pretty face.
Peter grasped her hand and led her to the back of the house. A simple room with a rustic bed and white sheets. A path of rose petals trailed across the bed. A towel made into the shape of a swan. A bottle of wine, chocolate strawberries held in a shell bowl on the dresser.
“How did you manage to add romance to this package?”
“Someone who lives on the island manages this property. I thought you’d like it. Do you?”
Claire grasped his face and pulled him closer, urging him toward the bed. He couldn’t say no to his wife’s desires.
“I love you, Peter.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Claire sat beside Peter on a wooden bench made for two. A rich landscape was in sight; trees, green foliage and an ocean that stole her breath. A painting couldn’t do justice to this seascape.
“Thank you, Peter, for bringing me here.”
“I knew you’d love it. You always said you wanted a place by the sea.”
“Maybe we’ll own a house near the water someday, but even a brief stay is better than none at all.”
Yet Claire wished owning an ocean home was possible. Time had no meaning in paradise. She could wake at any hour. Read a book, listen to a podcast, or sit here watching the boats motoring across the strait. Peaceful…she sipped her wine, relaxed and calm, savoring the fruity mix that satisfied the palate. It tasted better while lounging on the deck, pondering a miraculous blue sea.
How had Peter found this place? She’d glance at him from time to time, wondering what he contemplated, worrying when this bubble might burst, but grateful too for his secretive planning that had brought her to this place. They’d only been on the island for little more than a day and she never wanted to leave. Never wanted to go back to Ocean Park or the responsibilities that lived there.
“Are you ready?” Peter asked, reaching for her hand.
“Yes, I think so,” she said dreamily, studying him.
The setting sun lit his cheek bones, and she saw his handsome appeal. A few wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes, salt and pepper hair instead of a darker brown. When she studied him more intimately, he was still the boy she’d fallen in love with years ago.
Peter wouldn’t have chosen such clothing then, a pale peach shirt and creamy pants. She’d never seen them before so they must be as new as her evening dress. They’d have to take a selfie of each other and send it to their kids. Neither of them had ever looked so good.
Claire searched Peter’s expression, excited to celebrate their a
nniversary, and so much more.
He grinned, taking her hand, and urged her to rise from the bench. “You look stunning tonight. You’re glowing.”
“It’s the dress. You have exquisite taste.”
“No, it’s not the clothing. It’s you.”
He gave her a slight smile as if to suggest his gift imparted something that happened every day, but the dress made her feel special. Made her feel loved. The chiffon fabric, a creamy confection with slender straps and a wispy skirt that fell to her feet. The fabric of a girl’s dreams. She loved the way it felt, the way it swished and floated around her legs as she walked. Peter had given her the best gift. Why had he chosen this dress? His newfound generosity pleased her.
Their fingers entwined together. A feeling of serenity passed between them. “Shall we begin our evening, Claire?”
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Come, let’s go. We’re dining in the cove.”
Peter led her along the boardwalk on the east side of the cottage. They passed along a gorgeous twisting pathway, laden with foliage on either side. They walked among the greenery, holding each other’s hands, meandering through this emerald forest. Trees with a carpet of moss coating their lower trunks. The forest floor a carpet of sword ferns, lily of the valley, and shrubs with tiny leaves.
“Does this pathway lead to the cove?”
Peter smiled at her. “I can’t wait to show it to you. I hired a chef to cook a gourmet meal fit for a queen.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
“I want you to have a special evening.”
“It’s beyond special. It’s amazing. I can’t believe we’re celebrating twenty-six years of marriage. I’m worried if I blink, this magic we’re creating together will slip away.”
“I mean for it to last,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Long after this night ends.”
After a few minutes, they arrived at a picturesque cove. A table and chairs were placed on a rock patio, the table set with porcelain dinnerware. Though a chef and server were waiting, Claire didn’t rush to take a seat. She paused at the base of the pathway, pondering the scenery. The private view left her speechless. As beautiful at the base of the hill as it had been from the top. The ocean rolled in and out. The air blew fresh and clean. “I love this, Peter.”
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