“Yep. Definitely not as welcoming as in the summer.”
“My brother and I used to love the July Fourth parade and the stalls—especially the food and candy ones. Does all that still happen?”
The past July Fourth festivities were still very much on Ben’s mind. He and his parents had met for the first time the man engaged to Grace—Drew Spencer, the Coast Guard officer whose mission to demolish the lighthouse had resulted in the family upheaval. One that was still reverberating. He pushed the memory aside. “Yes, with the same or maybe even more hoopla. By the way, how is your family? Your brother and parents?”
She looked away again. “My brother and his family are in Boston, but we don’t see much of each other. They have busy lives.”
“And your parents?”
“They divorced. My mother’s still in Boston, too, but Dad moved back to Syracuse, where his family was from. He passed away two years ago.”
“I’m sorry, Ella.”
She swung around. “Why should you be sorry?”
The intensity in her face stunned him. “Just an expression. I feel bad for you, that’s all.”
“Dad’s death was tough, but the divorce happened a long time ago.”
After an uncomfortable moment, Ben ventured to ask, “So where to now? Want to see a bit of the new development the company’s building? Then there’s the harbor. Or the coffee shop?”
“Maybe the new subdivision. I could use more of a walk. Then the harbor. It’s on the way back to the hotel.”
Ben’s vision of a chat over pastry and coffee at Mabel’s vanished. Time to stop kidding yourself, Winters. “Let’s head back to Main Street, then.”
As they walked up the hill leading to the highway and the subdivision, Ben pointed out some of the newer businesses that had cropped up since Ella’s last summer in the Cove. Other than an occasional “uh-huh,” she seemed uninterested. Ben felt as if he were trudging through snowdrifts rather than shoveled sidewalks, his whole body weighed down further and further by the silence.
“No Tina’s Ice Cream anymore?” she suddenly asked.
“They’ve retired. Moved to Florida.”
“Hmm.” She paused at the crest of the hill to the town below. “Can’t say I blame them.”
Ben knew then that the Ella his mind had preserved all these years was no more than an adolescent dream. He forced himself to disregard her obvious disdain for the town. Knowing what he did, could he blame her for that?
“My dad began that development four years ago.” He pointed to the housing across the highway. “There were only about twenty houses then, and we’ve expanded to about a hundred, with plans to extend farther. Maybe to Portland city limits.”
“Do you like working for your father?”
The unexpected question startled him. He recalled a few talks with sixteen-year-old Ella about his father’s controlling ways. “It’s only been a bit less than a year. I came back just before his heart surgery last January. It’s been an adjustment for both of us.” Ben kept his eyes on the housing project. Poor health and aging were taking their toll on Charles Winters. His low-key response to Grace’s confession months ago was testament to that.
“And your mother? How is she?”
Ben appreciated the sudden warmth in her voice. There was still some trace of the old Ella in it. “She’s good. The same. But she needed help with my dad, which is why Grace and I came home.”
“And how was that for you? The homecoming?” Her eyes seemed to bore right into his.
“It’s been fine,” he lied. “I was looking for a change anyway. Shall we head back? You must be getting cold.” He began heading down the hill, knowing any further explanation would be futile. He doubted she was really interested in how he felt about returning home. They were not the same two people who’d once shared confidences. That reality was sinking in very quickly.
When she caught up to him partway down the hill, she said, “Maybe I’ll go back to the hotel now. I have some things to do before meeting Grace for dinner.”
Ben stifled a sigh. Definitely no coffee. When they reached the hotel, he impulsively said, “Speaking of dinner, I’d love to take you out somewhere tomorrow evening.”
There was the slightest hesitation before she said, “Sure. I’d like to see you again before I leave.”
He felt a whoosh of relief at the chance to see her one last time. “Great. I’ll get the details to you tomorrow. Have a nice evening with Grace.”
“I fully intend to.”
Her cool tone puzzled him, and he suddenly wanted to make up for not asking about her life after that summer. He grasped her hand. “I’m hoping we can catch up more tomorrow night. And thanks for coming back, Ella. It meant a lot to Gracie.”
She casually withdrew her hand. “And me, too,” she said, turning abruptly away to head up the steps to the hotel entrance.
Ben was confused by all her mixed messages, but perhaps dinner together would resolve this awkwardness between them. Then he remembered what he’d told Grace days ago. There was nothing to be gained by seeing Ella Jacobs again. Only everything to lose.
CHAPTER THREE
ELLA SAT ON the edge of the bed and painfully pulled off first one boot, then the other to gently massage her feet back to life. Contrary to what she’d told Ben, her footwear was totally inappropriate for more winter walking than from taxi to building in Boston. At least she’d had the sense to wear a thin pair of nylon socks rather than going barefoot inside the ankle-high, narrow-heeled leather boots.
If only she could as easily rub away her adolescent yearnings for Ben Winters. The walk around town was proof that their long-ago relationship—if it could even be called that—was basically dead. Stone-cold dead. Except for that frisson of heat when he’d grabbed hold of her hand just before she’d entered the hotel. Its jolt had unnerved her, and once out of his sight, she’d leaned against a lobby wall to catch her breath. Then she’d realized that this unexpected reaction was a reminder that coming back to Lighthouse Cove to do what she intended wasn’t going to be easy.
Today had been the first challenge. Getting an apology tonight from Grace for what happened that summer would be another. And as for Ben...she wanted to know why he’d failed to support her that horrible Labor Day weekend. Face-to-face. Up-front and personal.
In spite of the heat blasting from the radiator in her room, Ella couldn’t stop shivering. She slipped out of her clothes and stood under the shower until the stream of hot water ebbed to a trickle. Her skin was bright pink when she finally emerged from the bathroom, knotting the threadbare towel around her bosom. The hotel definitely had seen better days, she thought. She remembered the swift looks Ben and Grace had exchanged when she’d uttered that comment back at the bookstore, and Grace had mentioned something about the hotel’s owner, Suzanna Winters, having difficulties. Ella hoped Suzanna would be far too busy with guests to be lurking in the lobby or reception area. Brandon’s older sister was one person she didn’t want to encounter during her stay. Ella knew that she—along with everyone else in town—probably still blamed her for what had happened to Brandon.
Every detail of the end-of-summer bonfire that Labor Day weekend was etched in her memory, as if it had happened months ago. She remembered the thrill of finding the note from Ben in the bag of books she’d borrowed from Grace and thinking how clever he’d been to hide it there. Obviously, he’d changed his mind about going to the bonfire, and once she found the note, she’d decided to go, too.
Grace and her friend Cassie hadn’t been overly surprised to see her appear at the bonfire, a fact that Ella later realized should have been the first tip-off that something was up. But that night her thoughts were only about meeting Ben and maybe finding a dark, romantic corner of the beach to have some private time with him before he left for college.
She’d loved the old-fashioned
touch of the note, something she’d never received from Ben before, and that, too, ought to have signaled something was off. Even when she bumped into Brandon on the path to the lighthouse, it had taken a few seconds for the realization to sink in that Ben had not sent her the note. Brandon had an identical one, signed Ella. A sudden burst of laughter from nearby bushes confirmed her suspicion that she and Brandon had been the victims of a prank. Years later, she connected the rush of humiliation at that moment to her response, tormenting herself with the awful thought that if she hadn’t been so mean to Brandon, he might not have run off into the night toward the lighthouse. The place where he died.
Ella forced her thoughts back to the present. She’d worried before returning to the Cove that her mind would slip back into the past, and it was already happening. If she’d known Suzanna was now the hotel’s owner, she’d have booked into a motel on the highway to Portland. Too late now.
After digging fresh lingerie out of her suitcase, she impulsively decided to get under the duvet on the queen-size bed. At least the comforter looked new and was invitingly soft and puffy. She’d been keeping a daily journal since the start of her book tour and temporary leave from the Globe, using her notes when she wrote her weekly op-ed piece. It was also a way to record her experiences during her travels, the dos and don’ts, should she ever have the luck to have another one.
As much as she’d enjoyed writing Always Be Mine, the work had essentially been a catharsis for everything she’d pent up inside over the past seventeen years. But during the tour, she’d received enough encouragement to foster the hope that perhaps she could write another novel, one that had nothing to do with that summer. It was something to think about when the pressures of her job at the Globe got to her.
She picked up her pen, cracked open a new page in the journal and wrote Lighthouse Cove. Tapping the end of the pen against her teeth, she thought back to the moment she saw Ben emerge from the basement at Novel Thinking. Until he’d smiled, he could have been a complete stranger, he’d changed so much. But that tentative smile along with the wisps of curls falling over his brow took her instantly back to the moment when she’d seen him for the first time at the start of the summer and known right then that Gracie’s older brother would never again be just a shadow moving around the Winters home. He’d suddenly become her number one reason for hanging out at Grace’s.
Ella jotted down a few words describing the adult version of that unexpectedly breathtaking presence: rugged, taller, worry lines, larger nose, shorter hair, stubbled cheeks, broader shoulders. Personality wise? She couldn’t say yet. There’d been a couple glimpses of the younger Ben when he’d remarked, You know Gracie, and again when he’d flushed at her gibe that he might have to carry her. And the teenage Ben of her memory had reappeared briefly when they’d surveyed the subdivision his family company was building. She’d seen pride in his face and the same enthusiasm in his voice he’d had years ago, talking about his dream of being an architect.
Ella couldn’t explain why, but for some reason the question about working for his father had popped out at that very moment, as she’d remembered the problems with his father that he’d once confided in her. His demeanor had shifted instantly, prompting her to ask about his mother. Ella had good memories of a kind and gentle Evelyn.
But she also had her own unhappy recollection of Charles Winters. He’d accompanied Brandon’s father, Fred Winters, to see her parents the day Brandon’s body had been found. Ella had hidden behind her mother as Brandon’s father demanded to speak to Ella. Someone had told him she’d sent a note to Brandon arranging a meeting near the lighthouse. Ella would never forget his pained shouts, his voice cracking with emotion. She’d run to the back of the cottage, as far away from his anger as she could get. Later that afternoon while her parents were packing to leave the Cove, a day early at Ella’s insistence, the police came. They showed the note to her and her parents. Could they ask Ella a few questions for their inquiry into Brandon Winters’s drowning? It was a day permanently engraved on her mind and throughout all of it, she’d waited in vain for Ben to come to comfort her, to tell her he believed her.
Ella sighed. There was no point going over that time again. She’d returned here in order to move forward, knowing at the same time that occasionally glancing back would be part of the process. The key word here was occasionally. She couldn’t go through with her plan if she was bogged down by memories.
She wrote a new heading: Changes in the Cove. The library headed her list. It was a good change in town, though its construction was ongoing and Ben’s comments implied it might not meet its opening deadline. Tina’s Ice Cream Parlor was sadly gone, but Ella figured she had Mabel’s to look forward to, given there was no breakfast in the hotel. Novel Thinking seemed to be exactly as it was when Henry Jenkins had owned it, and perhaps she’d have an opportunity to see him before she left. Ella drew an asterisk beside his name.
As for the subdivision that Ben was so clearly proud of, she was undecided if that was a good change to the Cove or not. Its layout seemed no different from Boston’s suburban areas, and the housing designs were just as generic, which made his enthusiasm for it difficult to understand. What had happened to Ben’s lofty dreams of becoming another I. M. Pei? Had he lost his vision? She sighed. It was unlikely she’d ever find the answers to those questions. The book talk was set for tomorrow at eleven, and Ella was thinking that despite Ben’s invite to dinner, she might cancel and go back to Boston right away.
She’d handed in her op-ed piece for this Saturday but hadn’t yet come up with an idea for next week. Admittedly, she’d been seriously preoccupied with her return to Lighthouse Cove and meeting Grace—not to mention the possibility of seeing Ben—and had let her usual organized self go astray. Traipsing down memory lane, she’d lost her focus. Or had she unconsciously switched it from work responsibilities to her longtime desire for revenge? Ella thought about that. No, not revenge so much as vindication.
Ella guessed part of her agenda for coming back would be dealt with over dinner tonight. She had no idea how the scene might play out, but she did know she’d have to be fully alert and clear-minded. She wriggled down under the duvet and laid her head on the pillow. A good nap would help.
* * *
HER CELL PHONE alarm woke her half an hour before she was due to meet Grace. The fact that she’d actually slept shocked her. She hadn’t napped since the last time she’d had the flu. Pondering her limited clothing options, Ella wished she’d asked Grace where they were going for dinner. She was saving the tailored slacks and cowl-necked sweater for the book talk, which she figured would be an informal affair with probably no more than a couple dozen attendees. If that. So the skirt and filmy blouse tonight. Dressy but casual at the same time.
At six on the dot, Ella was stepping out of the elevator and buttoning her red cashmere coat—an impulsive purchase after her divorce was finalized—when she spotted Grace walking across the lobby.
“Beautiful coat,” Grace said when she drew close.
“Thanks. A present for myself.”
“The best kind!”
“Nice scarf, Grace. I like that color on you.”
Grace flushed. Ella remembered then how Grace was often embarrassed by compliments, as if she didn’t think she deserved them.
“It was a present from Drew.”
“Drew?”
“Drew Spencer. My fiancé. I guess there’s a lot to talk about over dinner. I’ve got reservations for us at The Daily Catch.”
“Is that a new place?”
“No. Remember the fish ’n’ chips shop on the waterfront?”
“Right! I’d forgotten its name. A family restaurant I think?”
“Yeah. The Nakamuras. Their oldest son, Tom, is running it. He was in Ben’s class at school. Anyway, it’s now more of a high-end seafood bistro. I think you’ll like it. Assuming you like seafood? Guess I
should have checked first.”
“I do, for sure.”
“All set, then?”
Ella had planned to cancel her second night at the reception desk on the way out but decided to wait until later. “Yes.”
Partway across the lobby, Grace said, “The bistro is close, but it’s on the boardwalk, which might be slippery. Will you be able to manage?” She eyed Ella’s boots.
“I’ll be fine. I wore these on the walk with Ben.” Had he made some comment later to his sister? She held back a sigh and followed her out the door.
But she kept Grace’s remark in mind while descending to the boardwalk and held firmly on to the stair railing. There was a breeze sweeping in from Casco Bay, causing the strings of multicolored Christmas lights along the upper rail to gently bob up and down. Most of the places along the walk had closed for the day. None of the business names were familiar to Ella.
“Are these all new?”
“Relatively.” Grace paused to scan the row of dark stores. “I think the harbor-boat-cruise place was still here when you came to the Cove.” She gestured to a shuttered storefront. “It’s obviously closed for the season now.”
“I vaguely recall it, though we never went on any of the cruises.”
“Same here.” Grace laughed. “As teens we wouldn’t have been caught dead going on one with our families.”
“True.” The sentiment was exactly right, but it caught Ella off guard. She had a sharp memory of the number of times her mother had suggested the cruise as a family outing. One that never happened and now never would. Her mother had been astounded when she’d heard of Ella’s planned visit and book talk. Why would you want to? she’d asked. Ella had muttered something about promoting her book without giving the real answer—because I have to.
Ella strode on, hearing Grace’s boots clattering behind. “Is that the bistro?” She pointed to a small, brightly lit storefront. Two potted poinsettia plants flanked the entryway, which was partially enclosed by canvas panels to block the wind. The glass panes of the door behind the panels were rimmed with frost.
The Christmas Promise Page 3
