by Mona Ingram
Several cars parked alongside the road caught her eye. One was Jeremy’s, and as the scene registered, she remembered that Kristin Hansen, an aggressive young realtor from their office was holding an Open House here today. She slowed, wondering if she should go in and confront him. But what would that prove? Still, their office had toured the home two weeks ago in advance of putting it on the open market, and Jeremy had seen it then. Maybe he’d brought clients to see it...
She turned around, parked and made her way up the driveway. Voices floated on the still air, drawing her to the rear of the house where a large patio faced a tinkling fountain and koi pond.
Ariana opened a heavy, wrought-iron gate, surprised that it made no noise. Two people stood on the patio, and as she watched dispassionately, Jeremy cupped the young woman’s face and kissed her lightly on the lips.
“...finishes at four,” said Kristin, raising her lips for another kiss. “You’re sure she doesn’t mind?”
Jeremy’s laugh was low and seductive. At least Ariana thought he meant it to be. “She doesn’t mind. We have an open marriage,” he said, trailing his fingers down the young woman’s neck and lingering at her breast. “Meet me later and I’ll show you just how open.”
Ariana would have laughed if it wasn’t so nauseatingly predictable. It was like watching a scene from a ‘B’ movie, or perhaps reading a scene from a romance novel. But it wasn’t... it was her husband, and the worst part was that she wasn’t surprised. She backed away from the patio and slipped out through the gate without closing it. The young realtor may lack morals, but she was experienced; she would check it before she left.
“Not surprised at all,” she said aloud, starting her car. “And what’s worse, I don’t even care.”
Instead of anger, a profound sadness enveloped her on the way home. She rarely indulged in dramatic, emotional scenes but she could see where one would have been appropriate back there. Like a fanfare, or a drum roll, a scene would have been preferable to letting her marriage fade away to nothing.
Perhaps she’d reserve that particular pleasure for another time. After all, she had someone called The Barracuda on her side.
“GOOD MORNING.” ARIANA smiled at her mother-in-law the next morning as she entered the office. Kathryn Logan manned the receptionist desk as though she were at the helm of a battle cruiser. Ariana knew that in spite of company rules, Kathryn routed certain calls to her favourite agents. It wasn’t something Ariana could police 24/7, but it still annoyed her. Fortunately, being an agent at Cambridge Realty was a coveted position, and none of the agents complained.
“Ariana, my dear. What’s this I hear about cancer?” Kathryn lowered her voice. “Is there anything I should know?”
Ariana considered the question for a moment. “I was on my way to discuss this with Jeremy now, but I might as well tell you. I’ll be taking several months off, effective immediately.”
The woman opened her mouth to object, but Ariana held up a hand. “I’ll take the next day or two to review all my listings. Most of them are co-listings with Jeremy, but I have a few with other agents.”
Kathryn’s gaze darted around the office. “Shouldn’t you have discussed this with Jeremy at home?”
“Yes, but your son is rarely there, which makes it a little difficult.”
Kathryn eyed her suspiciously. “You don’t seem very upset.”
“No? I suppose not.” Ariana spoke casually. “You see my mother died of cancer, as did my aunt. And then a few years ago, my sister, if you recall. So there was a good chance I’d get it, too.”
Kathryn pushed back from the desk, as though Ariana might be contagious. “I didn’t know... I mean, all those family members...” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you tell Jeremy?”
“About what? About the fact that I’d probably get cancer?” She didn’t wait for a response. “No, Kathryn, I didn’t tell him. Just like he didn’t tell me that you listen in on other people’s phone calls. So I guess we’re even.” She smiled sweetly. “Have a good day.”
Chapter Ten
“YOU SAID THAT? I DON’T believe it.” Jodi waved off her comment. “Of course I believe it, I just didn’t think you had it in you!” She was grinning from ear to ear. “This is so great. So did she go running to sonny boy?”
“Not while I was there. But I’m sure she couldn’t wait for me to leave.” Ariana took a long drink of water while Jodi answered her phone. The most chilling part of her conversation with Jeremy had been when she told him about the mastectomy. He’d recoiled as expected, but his next words had put paid to any faint glimmer of hope she might have had that their marriage could be resurrected.
“Then I guess we should move that photo session up,” he’d said coolly.
“Photo session?” Had she heard him correctly?
“Yes, for our new ad campaign. You remember, the new casual look?”
Who was this man? Ariana stared at him. “Have you heard anything I’ve said? I’m taking several months off, and I’m not sure if I’ll come back to work.” She lifted her chin. “Do what you like about the advertising, but remove my photo from any future ads.”
“You could at least have talked this over with me.”
“When, Jeremy? We could have talked after the appointment yesterday, but you were a no-show. And I was home all night last night, but you weren’t there, either. I didn’t get so much as a text from you either time.” She fought to keep her anger at bay. “When was I supposed to tell you?”
He had the good sense to remain quiet.
“So I’m telling you now,” she said quietly. “We have plenty of agents to pick up the slack, and I intend to contact every one of our listings personally to fill them in.” She raked her fingers through her hair, suddenly sick and tired of the whole affair. “It’s not as if I chose to get cancer, Jeremy. You might remember that.”
“SO YOU REALLY LET HIM have it, huh?” Jodi was off the phone.
“Not nearly as much as I should have.” She told Jodi about finding Jeremy with Kristin. “And before you say anything, it would have taken too much energy to confront him there.” She raised her hands and then let them drop. “Besides, I just don’t care anymore.”
Jodi nodded. “Good. He’s not worth it. So let’s talk about the operation. They’re going to build you some fake boobs while you’re still under? How cool is that?”
Ariana had to laugh. “Maybe one day it will seem cool, but right now, I’m scared stiff.”
Jodi shrugged. “Sorry, Just trying to lighten things up.” She toyed with her water bottle. “Will you have any... you know... sensation?”
“Probably not. Some women report regaining some sensation, but I’m not counting on it. All of the tissue under there is gone.”
“And what about the nipple? Will you be flat?”
“I’m not sure precisely what the plastic surgeon does, but yes, he creates something that looks like a nipple. It’s the areola they can’t duplicate. According to the literature, some women get them tattooed on.”
Jodi tapped her fingernails against her teeth. “I’ve heard something about that. There’s a guy here in Victoria who specializes in tattoos for women who’ve had reconstructive surgery.”
“You’re kidding. There are people who specialize in that?”
“Apparently. I heard a couple of women discussing it when they were working out.” She glanced toward the front door. “Apparently his shop is about a block from here, on the other side of the street. I hear he’s booked up months in advance. You’ve probably driven by the studio dozens of times.”
Ariana looked outside, deep in thought. “You’re right, I’ve noticed a tattoo place up the street. It’s called Ink something. Wait a minute, it’s called Ink Me.” She turned to her friend. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Jodi was focused on her computer. “Here it is. Ink Me. Owned by Blaine Bennett.” She let out a low whistle. “Be still my heart. This guy is gorgeous!” She turned the laptop
around. “Wanna see?”
Ariana waved her away. “No. I’m not ready for that yet.”
“Okay, but Mama Mia, this guy is hot!”
“My friend, you think everybody’s hot.”
“Okay, but you really should check him out. It says here that people come from all over the province to see him.”
“Good for them.” Ariana slipped down from the stool. “Now I have a lot to do and you have a business to run. Talk to you later, okay?”
Chapter Eleven
A COUPLE OF WOMEN RAN and caught the elevator just as the doors were closing. One of them still had a towel around her neck and was mopping her forehead. “That was great,” she said. “I’m so glad I didn’t put this off any longer.”
Her friend gave her a friendly jab with her elbow. “If I left these things up to you, we’d never do them.”
As Ariana walked to her car, their words seemed prophetic. She might not get back this way for some time; she really should check with that tattoo place now. If only she could remember his name...
She needn’t have worried. A business card rack on the elegant reception desk held cards for every artist in the studio. She picked up Blaine’s card. “I realize that Mr. Bennett is very busy, but I was wondering if I could see him.” Somewhere in the background classical music was playing.
The receptionist eyed her suspiciously. “Mr. Bennett is between clients right now. May I tell him what this is about?”
Of course, thought Ariana. I don’t look like the average client. She probably thinks I’m here to sell him something. “It’s about a tattoo.”
The receptionist’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly, but she was well trained. “Just a moment, please.” She lifted a handset. “There’s someone here to see you Blaine. Do you have a moment?” He said something and she glanced at her computer screen. “Half an hour.” She nodded. “All right.”
The receptionist rose. “Please come with me. Blaine will join you in just a moment.”
Ariana wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. A table resembling a massage table, plus an angular chair and a couple of arm rests occupied one side of the room. One wall was devoted to tools and inks, plus what appeared to be a large selection of design books. Two comfortable armchairs sat angled toward each other, but she was too nervous to sit. The music was slightly louder in here, and she recognized one of Beethoven’s piano concertos. Jodi will think I’m making this up, she told herself.
On the wall behind the armchairs, a striking photograph caught her attention. A man’s torso had been photographed from the side. A bold tattoo curled up the side of his neck and came down over one shoulder, ending somewhere around mid-bicep. Another image showed the same tattoo twisting half way across his back. Reminiscent of a Maori design, the bold simplicity was breathtaking, and she reached out to touch it.
“Do you like it?”
Ariana whirled around, embarrassed to be caught almost touching the photograph. “I... uh...” She couldn’t speak. Green eyes the colour of her grandmother’s prized jade bracelet were looking at her with an intensity she couldn’t fathom. Had she done something wrong in admiring the photograph? She swallowed and searched for something sensible to say. “Your design?” she asked.
“Yes.” The man closed the distance between them and held out his hand. “Blaine Bennett.”
Her hand slid into his as though it belonged there. “Ariana Logan,” she said, and then her eyes widened as she spotted the tail end of the tattoo crawling up his neck. She turned to the photograph. “That’s you.”
“Yes,” he said, studying the photograph as if he’d never seen it before. “Some people have suggested that it’s the height of vanity to have a picture of myself on the wall. He raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Ariana tilted her head to one side. “I think they’re jealous,” she said softly. This time she did touch the photograph, although to her surprise she realized she’d rather be touching his skin. “This design is powerful and sensual all at once.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Is it just me, or does everyone want to reach out and touch it?” Tension shimmered in the air between them.
He laughed and Ariana didn’t know if she should be relieved or disappointed. “Not everyone,” he said, then lowered his voice. “Just the people who appreciate the same type of aesthetic as I do.” He gestured toward one of the chairs. “Please, sit down.”
Ariana looked around the room, her gaze lingering on his tattooing equipment before moving on to the specialized furniture. Suddenly the enormity of what she was about to do washed over her like a tsunami and she started to tremble.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammered, backing out of the room. “I shouldn’t have come here.” She looked into his eyes, begging him to understand. “I apologize for wasting your time.” Almost running from the studio, she found herself out in the bright sunlight and walking down the street. Where had she left her car? She couldn’t remember. Her steps took her past a familiar, bright, generic coffee shop and she ducked inside, ordered a coffee and made a beeline for the far corner.
What had she been thinking? In her haste to get everything organized, she hadn’t allowed herself to embrace her new reality. As if a bilateral mastectomy wasn’t enough, it appeared that her marriage was disintegrating as well. And yet she’d pushed ahead, as if nothing had changed. Well it has changed, she told herself, ripping the sugar packet and spilling most of the contents on the table. My life will never be the same and it’s time I faced up to that fact. She looked around for a napkin but the dispenser was empty. With tears in her eyes, she started to brush at the sugar with her hands.
“Here, let me take care of that.”
She didn’t have to look up to know it was him. But instead of soothing her, his voice unleashed a torrent of tears. He sat down across from her and reached for her hands, granules of sugar sparkling on his arms. His broad shoulders shut her off from the rest of the restaurant, affording her the privacy to let out her grief.
“Cry,” he said, with a gentle squeeze. “I’ve got you.”
A few minutes later, Ariana dug in her purse for a tissue and blew her nose. “Charming, huh?” she asked with a sheepish smile.
Beautiful, he thought, but said nothing as he brushed the sugar from his arms.
She frowned. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“It’s not every day a customer runs out of the shop. I had to see if I’d done something wrong.” His smile told her not to believe a word. “I was worried about you,” he said softly.
She lifted the coffee to her lips and grimaced.
“Let me get rid of that,” he said, rising in one fluid motion. “Let’s start over with fresh coffees, all right?”
She nodded and watched him make his way to the counter. A couple of young women came in and flirted with him outrageously. He smiled at them and the younger one fanned herself behind his back. Jodi had been right. The man was more than just attractive. He exuded sex appeal.
Blaine wiped the table with a damp rag, then set down their coffees as though they were in Limoges cups instead of cardboard. He returned the rag to the barista, then came back to sit down.
“So,” said Ariana. “What’s with the Beethoven?”
His eyes flashed and she wondered how many people recognized his tastes in music.
He blew on his coffee then set it back down. “When I was young, I spent a lot of time with my grandfather on my mother’s side. He had an old turntable and a whole stack of 33s. Do you know what those are?”
Ariana nodded and settled in. It was a relief to talk about something different for a change.
“Gramps had joined some sort of record club; each month he chose a record and they shipped it to him the following month. Some of the stuff I didn’t care for.” He shuddered. “Wagner. I couldn’t get down with that, as the kids say these days. But even though I didn’t really listen back then, I find myself appreciating many of those composers now
.” He chuckled softly and his gaze drifted around the room. “I try to keep the sound low, ‘cause the guys accuse me of ruining the tone of the joint.”
“I liked it, but then I suspect I’m not exactly your usual type of customer.”
“Not really, no.” He studied her openly.” Although the demographics have changed a lot in the past ten years.”
Ariana nodded. “When I was young, tattoos were associated mostly with bikers, or gang members. And now...” She smiled. “A couple of months ago, my grandmother got one.”
“What did she get?”
“It’s a small image of the Eiffel Tower. She and Grandad spent their honeymoon in Paris. She got it done on what would have been their fiftieth wedding anniversary.”
“What we call a memory tattoo. In general, I like them.” Blaine toyed with his coffee cup. “I can tell by your voice that you’re fond of your grandmother. Does she live here in Victoria?”
“She was born here, actually. Her father was in on the ground floor of the original coal mines on the island.”
Blaine’s eyebrows rose.
“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. She is wealthy, but at the same time she’s one of the most down-to-earth people I know. I love her,” she said simply.
“If she got a tattoo at her age, she’s okay in my books.”
“My friend Jodi says if there was a female version of the Dos Equis man, it would be Jacqueline Beaumont.” She motioned toward the street. “You may know my friend Jodi. She owns New Beginnings studio down in the next block.”
“The fitness place,” he said with a nod. “I know it, but I don’t think I’ve ever met the owner.”
Ariana took a couple of sips of coffee. “Thank you for the coffee, by the way. I’m fine now, if you have to go back.”
