Maybe this is why you ought to have listened to Dad, who warned you about conflict of business interests in a small town when you decided to buy into it. Ben sighed, knowing there was nothing much he could do about the situation. Besides, Ella was a seasoned journalist who’d certainly fielded many tough interviews. As he navigated his way to the front door, he saw her sitting at the table of books, chatting with a young teen. She noticed him look her way, and her smile stayed with him all the rest of the day.
* * *
ELLA PACKED UP while Grace locked the door behind the last of the morning’s customers. Once she’d gotten into the rhythm of chatting and autographing, she’d managed to shove aside that woman’s question. But now that she no longer needed to maintain her neutral-but-friendly smile, Ella wanted to flee to her hotel room, lie on the bed and close her eyes against all of it: the sorrow in Grace’s face last night, the uncertainty in Ben’s eyes when he’d grasped her hand yesterday and, most of all, the intent expression on that woman’s face when she’d referred to Brandon’s drowning and ruined Ella’s presentation.
Ella knew returning to the Cove was a gamble and she ought to have been prepared for questions like the one today. A couple internet searches could easily uncover the tragedy of that summer, and although most of the people at the book talk consisted of young women who’d been born well after the incident, some in the audience could have known about it. It seemed she was never going to erase the memories. Even Grace’s apology couldn’t shift her mood. She was beginning to think she shouldn’t have come back.
“Congratulations, Ella! I think that went well,” Grace said as she moved to the book table. “Lots of sales, and your talk was wonderful. I got raves about it from some of the customers.”
“Who was that woman?”
The smile vanished from Grace’s face. “Oh, don’t worry about her.”
“Do you know her?”
“Not really. I think she might be a reporter for The Beacon, but seriously, forget about her.”
“The Beacon?”
“Remember the town’s weekly newspaper? We weren’t into it back in those days. As I said, don’t worry about her.”
“Okay,” Ella muttered. “One of the teenagers was quite charming,” she went on to say. “Her name was Becky. She told me her mother allowed her to skip classes this morning just for my talk and she persuaded her friends to do the same.”
“Becky Oliphant. She’s a lovely young girl. I met her last summer and she was actually the one who drew my attention to your book. She works for me some Saturdays.”
“Nice.”
“I loved working for Henry in the summers.”
“I don’t remember you working here.”
“Um, well, it was the summer I turned sixteen, after—”
“I left.”
Grace’s smile vanished. “About last night...”
“I’m sorry about rushing off,” Ella quickly put in. “There was a lot to process.”
“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave. It really wasn’t the best place for that kind of talk, but the opening came up when I mentioned Brandon’s memorial and...well...I just went with it.”
There was the teenage Grace’s impulsiveness Ella remembered. She softened her tone. “It’s okay, Grace. The topic would have been difficult for both of us whenever it arose. I appreciate your honesty and your apology.”
“Thank you, Ella. That means a lot to me.”
The pause that followed was awkward. “I suppose that’s it for me, then.” Ella gestured to her packed tote bag.
“You have another night here, don’t you?”
“I do, but—”
“Ben asked me to remind you that he’d invited you out for dinner tonight. He’d love to spend more time with you.”
Ella wasn’t so sure about that, given she’d been so snarly with him yesterday, but she was pleased that he remembered his invitation. “Oh right. Well, I guess I could keep my hotel booking for tonight.”
“That’s great. And why don’t I take you for lunch. I have an hour before reopening this afternoon. We can talk about what we’ve both been doing these past several years.”
The thought of having a normal conversation free of more bad memories was appealing and knowing that tonight’s meeting with Ben was still on unexpectedly boosted her spirits. “I’d like that, Grace, and I want to hear all about Henry. But it’s my treat today.”
* * *
BEN HAD SERIOUS misgivings about the meeting’s success. Things had gone well until the slide revealing the latest numbers for Winters Building Ltd. He’d had qualms about including it but knew not to hide anything. Business was slow, but it would pick up come spring. Ben was certain about that. If only he could convince the Portland Credit Union. As much as everyone had smiled and shaken hands afterward, he’d caught a glance between two of the men that worried him—raised eyebrows that implied doubt about his numbers perhaps.
When Ben pulled out of the credit union parking lot, he debated whether to inform his father about the meeting right away or head for his office in the Cove to discuss it with his second-in-command, Andy Talbot. He was tempted to go for the latter, since he and Andy would be on the same page, unlike Ben and his father.
The other matter on his mind was that reporter’s pointed question about the book. Ben had wanted to rush to Ella’s rescue, but she hadn’t needed his help at all. At least he had the evening with her to look forward to, if she was still willing to have dinner with him.
He used the short drive back to the Cove to mentally review the meeting for his discussion with his father and Andy. By the time he arrived at the exit to Lighthouse Cove, Ben had still not come up with a recap that would satisfy his father. His best shot would be a simple outline, the kind Charles preferred. Cut to the chase had been his father’s advice as far as Ben’s memory reached. He glanced at the subdivision that his father had begun and that Ben was currently expanding. Although he was proud of the well-built homes, he loathed their cookie-cutter design. When the company first began developing the land, Ben had tried to persuade his father to vary the plans. He’d even drawn up a few prototypes and blueprints but to no avail. People don’t care about owning a Frank Lloyd Wright knockoff, Ben. They want a house they can afford, his father had protested.
Steeling himself for the inevitable battle of wills, he climbed out of his car and opened the front door of his childhood home—the castle on the hill, as his friends used to tease. Ben had been occupying his old third-floor bedroom since his return, but he had recently purchased a new, winterized bungalow near the beach, so he’d be moving soon. That had been another decision his father had protested. You could have had one of our own rental places for nothing.
Then I’d never be out from under your thumb, Dad, he’d thought.
“Hello!” he called out as he headed for the solarium, a favorite roosting place for his parents.
“This is a nice surprise.” His mother was writing in a notebook and looked up when he walked into the room. His father was dozing in an armchair and roused at their voices.
Ben leaned down to kiss his mother’s cheek. “What’re you working on?”
“I’m planning an engagement party for Grace and Drew.”
“Oh? Does she know about that?” He couldn’t resist the tease, knowing his sister disliked being the center of attention.
“Of course she does. I wouldn’t dare otherwise.”
“Have they set a date?”
“For the wedding? Not as far as I know, but then—”
“We would be the last to know,” Ben finished.
Evelyn laughed. “I made her promise not to elope. Any kind of wedding is fine by me as long as I can be there.”
“Finished for the day already?” Charles broke in.
Ben felt his face heat up. “I’ve just come fr
om a meeting with the Portland Credit Union and thought you’d want to be filled in.” He glanced at his mother.
“I’m going to make a pot of tea,” she said, getting up from her chair. “Anyone else interested?”
“I’ll have one.”
“Charles?”
He shrugged. “Fine.” Then he redirected his attention to Ben. “I thought we already had a discussion about asking for more credit.”
Ben sat on the chair Evelyn had vacated. “It wasn’t a discussion, actually, Dad. I told you I planned to find investors for my new project, and you told me the project wasn’t a good idea. End of conversation.” He pushed on despite his father’s frown. “I know you’d rather keep expanding the subdivision, but we still have a dozen unsold houses there. As I’ve told you before, there’s a new generation of potential buyers interested in the green components of my new designs—the solar panels, the gray water system—”
“All that green-and-gray talk! I’m getting tired of it.”
“Well, you can’t compete if you’re not in the game.” Ben got up. “I’ll see if Mom needs any help.” He thought he heard Charles sputtering as he left the solarium. It hadn’t been fair to use another of his father’s favorite sayings against him, but he couldn’t resist. He decided not to tell him more about the meeting until he had answers for the inevitable questions. And a tea break was exactly the diversion he needed.
Evelyn looked up from pouring boiling water into a teapot. “Couldn’t wait? Or needed a break?”
“I could use something stronger than tea, but it’s a bit early.”
She set the kettle back onto the stove. “He’s struggling, Ben. Eventually he’ll accept what we’re all trying to tell him.”
He perched on a bar stool and ran his index finger along his forehead. There was so much he wanted to say to his mother, but she had enough on her mind. His parents were still processing Grace’s revelation from a few months ago and didn’t need his personal worries added in.
“What is it, dear?” Evelyn was smiling sweetly at him across the island counter.
“Nothing, Mom. Just a bit tired. Can I take that for you?” He stood up and reached for the tea tray. No reason to spoil her day by telling her Ella Jacobs was back in town.
CHAPTER FIVE
ELLA SIGHED. IT WASN’T The Daily Catch, and the pub Ben had suggested—The Lobster Claw—fell short of the candlelit, linen-tablecloth venue her adolescent self had sometimes dreamed about enjoying with Ben. Not that she’d been expecting a romantic evening, nor did she want one. As far as she was concerned, this night was solely for business—the business of extracting an apology. She hung her down jacket over the back of her chair and sat down, facing the interior of the pub, which seemed very busy for a Thursday night.
Grace had been surprised when Ella had told her she was meeting Ben there. “I’d have thought he’d want someplace quieter,” she’d said.
But Ella guessed he wanted a place where there would be less likelihood of a serious conversation. Her lunch with Grace had been pleasantly free of that very kind of talk. They’d spoken about Ella’s presentation, the enthusiasm of the young audience and, again, the annoying reporter. The incident had upset Ella because it had been a blunt reminder that she wasn’t going to escape the past in Lighthouse Cove. The reporter had been correct in assuming the book was loosely based on the real tragedy, but for Ella loosely was the key word.
Her intention for writing it hadn’t been only personal therapy but the chance to give Brandon an alternate life through fiction. When she’d agreed to do the presentation, she’d known there would be a possibility someone in the Cove would make the connection to Brandon. Not that it mattered. The book talk hadn’t been her main reason for coming back anyway.
The server came with water then, forcing Ella’s thoughts back to the pub.
“Would you like to order a drink?” she asked.
Ella declined. She needed every one of her senses to be functioning clearly. After the server left, she checked the time on her cell phone. Ben was late. No surprise there, she thought, recalling his teenage lack of punctuality. She scrolled through her email and noticed a new one from the head library in Worcester, Massachusetts. Her presentation there next week was canceled due to a municipal work stoppage. The visit had been the last stop on her book tour. Ella sighed again. She didn’t have to report back to work until after the new year, although she still had two more Saturday op-ed pieces to write.
The problem was Christmas. That family-oriented holiday had been the bane of Ella’s life since her parents’ divorce, which had required travel between two residences. Her brother was now tied up with his own family, and her mother’s current love interest had grandchildren. Although Ella knew she’d be welcomed to spend Christmas with either of them, she also knew she’d feel like an outsider. The holiday was two weeks away, and she wondered if she ought to contact her single friends to organize something. The idea wasn’t appealing.
She scanned the busy pub and the knots of people of all ages celebrating either nearing the end of a working week or the coming holidays, and she envied them. Except for the publication of her novel, her life and career had followed a steady but unexciting trajectory. Even her divorce had been without drama. She and Jake, her ex, had simply grown tired of one another. You’re feeling sorry for yourself, Jacobs, just because you saw how happy Grace is. She was checking around for her server so she could order a glass of wine after all, when she spotted Ben pushing through the crowd. Several people stopped him to chat or say hello, including at least two women, but Ella saw that his dark eyes remained fixed on her the whole time.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he reached the table. Droplets of melting snow sparkled on his dark hair and the broad shoulders of his overcoat. He unbuttoned the coat and shook it, causing a light spray to flick across the table and onto Ella, who flinched.
“Sorry about that.” He laughed. “Have you been here long?”
“Umm, not really.” She couldn’t take her eyes off him and his charcoal-gray suit and immediately wished she’d worn her skirt and blouse rather than the same outfit she’d worn to the book talk.
“Here.” He picked up his napkin and stretched across the table to dab her cheeks, where some of his coat’s water droplets had landed.
The intimate gesture startled her, but not as much as the expression in his eyes. Tenderness? No, she must be wrong. She instinctively pulled her head back and muttered, “Thanks, I’m okay.”
He dropped the napkin and sat down, loosening the collar of his pale blue shirt and tugging at his tie. “I meant to change, but I figured I was late enough.”
“Business meeting?”
“Yeah, but then I went to see my folks for a bit and after that had a last-minute meeting at the worksite.”
“How are your parents?”
“Good. My dad is still recovering from his heart surgery last January, as Grace may have told you. His doctor thinks he has other issues, as well, hence the slow recovery. Mom is fine despite coping with his extended convalescence.”
Ella smiled at that, thinking Charles Winters would be a challenging patient.
“Listen,” he began, leaning forward. “I’m sorry about the interruption during your book talk this morning.”
“You mean when you arrived late?” She smiled to let him know she was teasing, but he flushed anyway.
“No, um, that woman—”
“The reporter from The Beacon?”
“Um—”
“At least, Grace thinks she works there.”
“Right. Well—”
“You don’t have to be sorry, Ben. You had nothing to do with her. Anyway, she didn’t bother me.”
“It’s just that—”
“Ben. Forget it. I already have.” That wasn’t quite true, but Ella suddenly wanted to enjoy this din
ner with him—their first in seventeen years and probably their last—without spoiling the evening. His apology could come at the end. Maybe after dessert. She picked up her menu. “Shall we order?”
“Sure.”
Ella watched him reading his menu and immediately regretted her abrupt tone. Why was she so touchy around him? The glow in his face when he’d arrived had fizzled out and been replaced by something Ella couldn’t quite identify. Trepidation?
“What’s good here?” she asked, aiming for a friendlier tone.
“Pretty much everything, if it includes seafood. I usually get the clam chowder and salad followed by the shrimp sandwich.”
So he was a regular, as she’d suspected from the way several people had greeted him. “That sounds perfect.”
“Wine?”
“Please. White.”
He signaled the server who’d brought Ella water minutes ago. The young woman flashed a bright smile when she reached their table. “Hey, Ben! How’s it going?”
“Great, Amy. Can we get a glass of the house white and a beer for me? And I think we’re ready to order.”
“Sure. The usual?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“And?” Amy’s quick glance at Ella showed new interest.
“The same,” Ben put in.
“Coming up.” Amy collected the large leather-bound menus and strode off.
“Come here often?”
“It’s a small town. Not too many places to choose from. Took me a while to get used to things like that, after living so long in Augusta.” After a beat, he added, “But now I’ve got my favorites, so I guess that makes me a true resident of the Cove again.” There was a trace of dismay in his grin, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself.
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