Second Chances (22 page)

“But, Erik… I never got a chance to say anything. I want to explain my life to you.”

“Save it for some rich guy.” Erik threw a twenty on the table and stormed away.

She heard the squeal of tires heading down Meeting Street. In five minutes, he would be at Melrose Mansion, removing everything in the house that belonged to him. He would vanish into thin air, just as Remy Bellavance did months ago.

She sat by herself at the table meant for two, watching couples enjoy each other, holding hands and sneaking quick kisses, oblivious to her stares. It didn’t matter. Young or old, they were together, but she was alone. Her loneliness felt the same as when Remy deserted her. Then, when she’d sit on the beach at Magens Bay alone, it was only the gulls mocking her and having the last laugh.

Walking home would do her good. It would also allow Erik plenty of time to gather his things and be gone by the time she got there. Normally, she enjoyed the distractions when she strolled the historic district. Beautiful homes in every style and color always gave her a reason to smile, but today she felt sad. Still, the courtyards and hidden gardens, the ironwork and history of Charleston were among the reasons she loved the city. South Carolina was home, always was and always would be. Charleston was her heartbeat, and St. Thomas was the vital air she needed to breathe.

She arrived at the intersection of Meeting Street and South Battery. Abby made a quick stop at Two Meeting Street, the beautiful inn on the corner, to say hi, then continued on. A look straight down South Battery on both sides would tell her if Erik was still loading his van. If he hadn’t left yet, she would wait in the park until he did. She could easily blend in with the tourists, and he’d have no idea she was there. But he was gone. She punched in the code and opened the creaky gate. As she passed through, she made a mental note to squirt WD-40 on the hinges. The house was quiet. Abby peeked around the corner of the kitchen, through the screen door, and saw everyone sitting on the patio. She smiled and went upstairs, and she had to pass Erik’s room to go to her own. His door was ajar, and she stopped to look in. The key lay on the dresser just where he said it would be. And the room stood empty. No clothes in the dresser or the closet, no indication that a man, a wonderful Scandinavian handyman, had slept there. Abby sat on the bed, her hand on his pillow. She lay down, squeezing the pillow in her arms, inhaling it and hoping to catch his scent. None remained. He hadn’t slept there for a week.

The clock in the library chimed on the half hour that Wednesday afternoon. Abby glanced up as she was signing checks for the monthly bills
. It’s four thirty already? Geez, where did the day go?
Her cell phone rang out. Attorney Lewis was calling.

“Hello, Attorney Lewis.”

“Abigail. I just received a letter in the mail stating the insurance claim we filed has been denied.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said as she rubbed her temples. “Do we have any other options, and is this a contingency fee case, or do I have to pay you an hourly fee?”

“Well, that’s the other reason I called. Since they denied the suit instead of settling it, I’ll have to begin charging you if we go forward to fight it. There’s a lot of work I’ll have to put in with no guarantees of success.”

“What is your hourly rate?” she asked as she inserted the check and statement in the envelope for the electric bill. She attached a stamp that read
Celebrate
across it.
Humph. What do I have to celebrate?

“Well, my dear, it’s three hundred fifty dollars an hour.”

“What about suing Mr. Hanson’s personal auto insurance company instead? Would we have a better chance at winning a claim?”

“We probably would, Abigail. Of course, you aren’t looking at millions of dollars like you would be with a wrongful death suit.”

“Right, but you don’t sound very encouraging about the outcome on that. What could I possibly expect with an automobile insurance claim?”

“It depends on Mr. Hanson’s policy, but the average death claim is normally settled for around three hundred thousand dollars. If I represented you on contingency, I’d get a third of the settlement.”

“Seriously, how do attorneys sleep at night? Whatever… let’s go in that direction instead. I can’t afford to pay you three hundred fifty dollars an hour with no guarantees of success.”

“Very well, I’ll get the ball rolling immediately. I’ll be in touch.”

Dinner was in the slow cooker. Abby had convinced Melanie and Betsy to go out tonight, just the three of them to Beaufort for dinner. Everyone else could help themselves to pork roast, potatoes, and carrots whenever they were hungry. Abby made reservations at Petrie’s overlooking the Harbor River for seven o’clock. If they felt like it, they might even stay overnight. Melanie left work early and didn’t have to work tomorrow anyway since it was Saturday. Beaufort was one of Abby’s favorite small towns with its genteel residents and beautiful river walk. She could dial life back to a slower pace there and relax. The urge to get away and spend a little money just that once gnawed at her. She had been pinching pennies for months.

She and Betsy waited outside, their overnight bags packed, just in case, watching for Melanie to pull up. The plan was to leave right away since it was an hour-and-a-half drive. Three bottles of iced tea and a bag of trail mix sat on the table between the women as they waited.

After Melanie got home and they headed off, they arrived in Beaufort at five thirty. They pulled into a downtown parking lot so they wouldn’t have to feed the meter every hour. They strolled Bay Street, checking out all the shops and galleries. Abby bought a Beaufort refrigerator magnet to add to the collection she had started as a child when her family traveled extensively.

At Petrie’s, they chose to dine on the outdoor deck facing the river. They were given the last available table since four couples and two families were seated outside, filling the close, intimate space. Each group struck up conversations with the other, another aspect Abby found charming about the South. People were friendly and engaging. The current conversation revolved around an older couple who were spending the weekend in Beaufort for their fortieth wedding anniversary. They were clearly in love and enjoying the limelight. The waitress brought a small chocolate cake lit with two candles, a bottle of Cabernet, and two wine glasses after their dinner. The cluster of diners around them clapped as they blew out the candles and embraced.

Wow, you can’t get much sweeter than that
, Abby thought as she joined everyone else in congratulating the happy couple. “I love Beaufort. Are you locals?” Abby asked after the three women settled in and ordered their dinner and drinks.

“We love it, too, and come here every year for our anniversary, but no, we live in Orangeburg, about an hour and a half away. Have you heard of it?”

Abby choked on her wine, wiping the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes with her linen napkin. “Sorry, I swallowed wrong.”

“Are you all right, dear? Maybe you need a drink of water.”

Abby coughed a few times before she could speak clearly. Melanie and Betsy shot concerned glances her way. “No, I’m fine, really. Actually, we traveled about the same distance, but from Charleston, and yes, I am familiar with Orangeburg, even though I’ve never been there. A friend of mine comes from Orangeburg. That’s where his family lives.”

“Really? It’s a small town, about the same size as Beaufort. We know everyone since we’ve lived there forever. What’s your friend’s name?”

Abby felt she’d said too much, and a red blush coated her face, but she had to answer their question. “Oh… his name is Erik Christiansen.”

The couple laughed, then the wife responded, “I’m sorry, we’re Bob and Lynn Madison. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, and it’s just so crazy what a small world it really is.”

“Why is that?”

“Rose and Tom Christiansen live just a block down the street from us. Rose and I play bridge every week. The guys get together for horseshoes now and then. They are the nicest family in town, and a large one, too. Just this spring, Erik and his brother Dan rebuilt the wooden steps coming up to our front porch.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Betsy chimed in as she took a sip of her wine.

“What’s your name, dear? We have to tell Tom and Rose we ran into someone that knows Erik. What a coincidence, right?”

“It sure is. My name is Abby, Abby Taylor, but his folks don’t know me.”

“That’s okay. They won’t care. Any friend of their kids is a friend of theirs. You should have Erik introduce you to his family. They’re so hospitable, they’d make you feel like one of their own. They have a lot of barbecues, and the entire family shows up. They’d welcome you with open arms.”

“They sound like great people. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Well, Bob, let’s burn these calories off. I think it’s time for a stroll,” Lynn said as she winked at the girls. “It was so nice to meet you ladies. Have a great evening.”

“Thank you.” Abby stood and gave Lynn and Bob an embrace. Betsy and Melanie followed suit. “Happy anniversary!”

They watched the happy couple walk away, hand in hand, toward the riverfront.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Abby asked, staring at Melanie as she chomped on her salad.

“Isn’t that what you want for your life someday? You need to fix this thing with Erik. Think about it. You have no family of your own except us. It sounds like Erik’s family is large and welcoming. You’ve got a thing for him, and he’s gorgeous. What’s wrong with that picture?”

“Nothing, other than he hates the sight of me. I met up with him the other day to tell him the truth, but I didn’t get a word in edgewise. He was too busy yelling at me. It’s hopeless.”

“You can’t say something is hopeless with one wimpy try. You have to go after him, Abs, if he’s what you really want. Is he?”

“I think so,” Abby replied, staring off at the marina, “but I’m afraid.”

“That’s a lame answer. Either you want him, or you don’t. You know his address in Orangeburg, don’t you?”

“He doesn’t live there anymore. It’s a duplex his folks own. They live on one side, and he lived on the other.”

“And his folks moved, too?”

“No.” Abby looked down at her plate and pouted.

“Exactly… now grow a pair and do something about it.”

“Won’t I seem pathetic if I chase him?”

“No… you’ll seem like someone who’s in love. There has to be a reason, bigger than all of us, that we came here tonight and met Lynn and Bob. It’s fate, Abby. Accept it and run with it.

Saturday night in the comfort of her bed, Abby thought about the best way to approach Erik again. Face to face didn’t work, but his hurt was still raw then. Two weeks had passed, and she hadn’t heard a word from him.
I never will if I don’t make the first move. Am I willing to let this wonderful man, who had no idea I was a Melrose, slip through my fingers? He didn’t have an agenda as Remy did. Erik is honest and pure. He wanted to be with me even though he thought I was just the rental manager. Maybe a letter to break the ice is the way to go. I can follow up with a phone call or text after that.
Abby checked the hallways before running down to the library in her pajamas. She pulled a pad of paper, a pen, and the book of stamps out of the top desk drawer, grabbed a glass and the corked half bottle of Cabernet from the wet bar, then headed back to her room. Erik’s business card sat on her dresser where it had been for the last month. She picked it up as she passed by. With cautious optimism, she poured a glass of wine, got comfortable on the bed, and began writing the letter. Sending it to his parents’ house, but addressed to Erik, should get it into his hands somehow.

Four days went by, and Abby was ready to give up. She was edgy and withdrawn, convinced she was meant to be alone forever. Sitting on the patio with Lisa, Abby bit her fingernails and spit the remnants into the flowerbed. A lot was on her mind, mainly Erik Christiansen. Adam came bounding through the kitchen door and plopped down on the closest empty chair next to Abby. “Hey, guess what?”

“What?” Lisa asked, excited to have a third party in attendance. She sat upright, hoping somebody would breathe life into the backyard boredom.

“Guess who came into my studio today?”

“I don’t know… the president?” she said, hoping to make Abby laugh.

“Even better than that.” He stared at Abby, waiting for her to look up and join in with the guessing game.

“Fine, I’ll bite. Who was it?”

“You have to make a guess, too, then I’ll tell both of you,” he said, taunting her to try to have fun.

“Okay… um… Reese Witherspoon.”

“Why the hell would you say that?” he asked.

“I read she has a home here. Just tell us already.” Abby rearranged her legs, which had fallen asleep after she’d been sitting on them for a half hour. They felt like lifeless tree limbs.

“Erik stopped by. Cool, huh?”

“What? Erik… as in our Erik? Why did he stop at your studio?”

“I guess he’s remodeling a home on Atlantic Street. He’s been working there for almost a month, Abs. I thought you knew that. It’s only a block from my studio. He just wanted to say hi.”

“I did know that, but I forgot. I’m having a brain dead week. It happens to the best of us. Anyway, thanks for the 4-1-1. I’m going inside.”

Abby took the stairs, two at a time, and dove into the bathroom once she got past the threshold of her room. With the shower running, she flipped through the clothes in her closet looking for something appropriate but sexy to wear. She didn’t want to think too hard, or she’d talk herself out of what she was about to do.
Don’t overthink this. Just go with your gut, chickenshit. Like Mel said, it’s fate.

Within fifteen minutes, she looked good enough to venture out in public. Her hair would dry in the sun on her speed walk to Atlantic Street. Abby was sure she’d know which house Erik was working on by the likelihood of a dumpster sitting along the curb. If the home was a full remodel, there would definitely be a dumpster in front of it. She walked down the block and was five houses along when she saw an enormous green steel container. Nervousness kicked in. She didn’t want Erik to think of her as a stalker, but he had to have known Adam would mention seeing him. Abby crept forward, staring at the front door and each window as she approached the house. The sound of the door opening unnerved her. She crouched down on the street side of the dumpster. She needed to muster up the nerve to bang on the front door and face him eyeball to eyeball. She needed to ease into it. The loud whack of two paint cans hitting the side of the dumpster just a few inches away made her shriek. She didn’t know
that
was coming.