Laura Abbot (12 page)

Lunch was crackers and cheese at his desk while he jotted down the questions he needed to ask Jay. Finally around three, he glanced at his watch and decided to call it a day. Besides, he wanted to drop by The Gift Horse to see how things were going for Laurel. And Katherine. He chuckled. Laurel had told him how insistent the older woman had been about serving tea. Frank Sullivan was probably rolling in his grave, but Katherine had clearly shed any of the social pretensions he’d in-grained in her about “working” outside the home. Besides, Katherine knew everybody in the village. Her presence could only help the turnout. Even he had to admit Laurel had done wonders with the shop, but he still worried about her long-term prospects.

Just as he was leaving, the phone rang. He was tempted not to answer. After all, it was a Saturday and he was not officially “in.”

“Oh, why not?” he said to himself as he picked up the receiver.

“Ben? I’m so glad I caught you.” Bess’s voice was on the edge of panic.

His gut tightened. “What’s wrong?”

“Darren just called. He’s on his way here. I don’t know what to expect. Can you please come home?”

“Now?” Ben fought down an irritation he knew was irrational.

“He was on his cell phone. He’s only a few miles away.”

“Where’s Mom?”

“She took the boys to the park. I—I don’t know when they’ll be back. I don’t want them walking in on Darren if…”

“He’s drunk?”

“I’m not sure. Please, Ben. Help me.”

Ben briefly closed his eyes. “Hang on, sis. I’ll be right there.”

As he left the office and drove toward home, he glanced regretfully down Shore Lane, thronged with pedestrians heading toward The Gift Horse.

L
AUREL COULDN’T BELIEVE IT
. A steady stream of customers, full of compliments, kept Megan and Ellen vying at the cash register to ring up sales. Katherine’s tea was eliciting oohs and aahs. One mother had even outfitted her little girls in long dresses and gloves. They sat now in the garden contentedly munching wafer-thin cookies and sipping lemonade, which Katherine had decided at the last minute to add just for children. Laurel had lost count of the number of people to whom Katherine had introduced her. It was clear she was providing a social coup as well as practical help.

Late in the afternoon, Megan found Laurel straightening the display of place mats and had just enough time to whisper, “We’ve taken in over four thousand dollars,” before a gentleman holding one of the children’s rocking horses asked to have it rung up.

Laurel’s feet ached and her voice was raspy from answering questions all day, but Katherine was the picture of grace. Hovering solicitously near the tea table was Nan Kelley, immaculately coiffed, her dark, thick hair pulled back in a chignon, her flawless complexion the careful result of understated makeup. But it was her eyes that arrested Laurel. Deep brown, they followed Katherine, revealing the depth of her caring.

“I’ll be fine, Nan,” Laurel overheard Katherine saying. “Go on home. Be there when John arrives. Greta is planning to pick me up at five.” She fixed a sharp eye on her daughter. “I’m not made of porcelain, you know.”

“I don’t want you to get overly tired.”

“Tired? I’m having fun, and fun is energizing.”

Laurel watched the daughter lean over and kiss her mother on the cheek. “Very well. I
would
like to be home to greet John.”

Observing the exchange, Laurel acknowledged the ache in her heart. She had so desperately wanted her parents to share in the celebration, but they had rented a booth at a crafts show in Pennsylvania this weekend. Laurel couldn’t help wondering, though. Her mother had asked all the right questions about The Gift Horse, yet her enthusiasm had been tempered by…what? Surely Laurel was imagining things. But there had been no mistaking the caution, maybe even doubt, in her mother’s voice.

By four-thirty only a few late-arriving customers remained. Katherine and Ellen were washing the tea service and cups while Laurel set the garden area to rights. That was her excuse anyway. What she was really doing was keeping an eye on Shore Lane, hoping that at any moment Ben would appear. She wanted to tell him everything—about the very first customer of the day, who had clapped her hands and said, “This is just what Belleporte has needed for years!” And then there was the woman from Grosse Pointe who had bought five hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise, and the charming little girls dressed for high tea and…

“You look as if you could use a pick-me-up.” Laurel turned to find Katherine standing beside her, offering her a cup of tea.

“That sounds divine. Thank you.”

Katherine handed her the cup, then sat on the bench, indicating the place beside her. “Sit.” She nodded toward the interior. “The girls have things well in hand. Besides, my dear, you deserve to gloat.”

Laurel beamed. “It was even better than I dared hope. In large part, thanks to you.”

“Nonsense. Nobody turned out today merely to chat with a resident septuagenarian. They came because you had a unique idea on which you expended creativity, time and money. Not to mention love. And the results speak for themselves. Laurel, dear, you’re in business!”

In business.
Magic words. Soothing words. “Thank you, Katherine. I can’t explain it, but it feels…vivifying!”

Katherine eyed her with amusement.
“Vivifying?”

“I’ve always wanted to work that word into a sentence, and now I have.” She set her cup on a plant stand. “Vivifying.” Her expansive gesture included the garden and the shop. “That’s exactly how this feels.” She picked up her tea and, taking a sip, let the spicy flavor play on her palate.

“Almost everyone in town came,” Katherine said.

Almost everyone. But not Ben.
Laurel wished his absence didn’t matter so much, but it did.

As if reading her thoughts, Katherine said, “Where was that scalawag Ben Nolan?”

“I don’t know.”

Katherine rearranged the fabric of her skirt. “You’re disappointed, aren’t you?”

Laurel sighed, knowing she couldn’t lie. “Are you a mind reader in addition to being a tea hostess?”

Chuckling softly, Katherine patted Laurel on the knee. “You know, of course, that you wear your heart on your sleeve.”

“I thought he’d be here,” Laurel murmured.

“And so he would have. Something came up. I just know it. Ben is conscientious. He wouldn’t have deliberately let you down.”

“I don’t suppose so.” Laurel desperately wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“It’s probably his family. They run him ragged sometimes. Always have.”

“Do you know why?”

“The family has always depended on Ben, ever since he was a little boy. As the babies came, it was always Ben who made the sacrifices. His father never got over what happened to him in the war, and relied on Ben to take care of things. But that’s ancient history now. Ben needs his own life.”

“And they can’t let him go.”

Katherine seemed to be reflecting on Laurel’s words. “Oh, they can. But will they?”

“That’s partly up to Ben, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But, Laurel, you’ll always have to share him, you know.”

It was comforting to have Katherine put into words exactly what Laurel had been feeling. She covered the older woman’s hand with her own. “I know.”

“Say, if you have time tomorrow, I’d like you to come to Summer Haven for dinner. I’m eager for my daughter Nan to get to know you.”

“Thank you, I’ll look forward to it.” Warmth spread through Laurel as she pictured Summer Haven the way she’d seen it from the beach the evening before. Rooted beside the vast lake, permanent, welcoming. Then—like a flash—the image changed, giving her just enough time to capture the fragment before it was gone again. The same inexplicable sensation as last night.

The older woman rose to her feet. “Good. We’ll see you around six.”

Slowly Laurel stood, preoccupied with the strange question forming in her mind. “Katherine, was Summer Haven ever painted white?”

The older woman swayed slightly, as if caught by surprise. Then, recovering, she studied Laurel. “Why do you ask?”

Laurel realized instantly she’d been foolish. “It’s nothing. Except…”

“Except what?”

“Ever since I first came to Belleporte, I’ve had the strangest feeling that I know Summer Haven. Yet I’d never been to Belleporte until November. The clang of the flagpole, the chimneys, the windows—it was all somehow…familiar.”

“Go on.”

“But last night, when Ben and I were walking on the beach, I don’t know whether it was a trick of the moonlight or simply a figment of my imagination, but for an instant the house looked…white.” Laurel dimly registered Katherine’s hand on her arm. “And just now, in my mind, it was white again.” She sought Katherine’s eyes. “That’s crazy, isn’t it?”

Katherine paled. “No. It’s not crazy. Summer Haven
was
white until after our…” She seemed to check herself. “Until my husband had it painted brown several years ago.” She hesitated, then said as if to herself, “But however could you know that?”

W
HEN
B
EN GOT TO
the house, Bess sat in the living room, spine stiff, hands clenched in her lap, red hair framing her pale face. “What am I going to do, Ben?” The ache in her voice unnerved him. She raised her eyes. “Darren sounded so…determined. I think he’s coming to try to talk me into going home.”

“Could you tell if he’s been drinking?”

“No, that’s why I needed you here. Just in case.”

Ben pulled a chair closer to his sister and sat down. “What do you hope to have happen?”

“I’m nearly beyond hope.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “I want this all to go away. I want my life back the way it used to be.”

“And how was that?”

“We were so in love. The kids were, well, just an added blessing. We’ve never had a lot of money. Maybe I complained some about that, but there was nothing so bad we couldn’t have figured it out together. At least I didn’t think so.”

“Maybe Darren didn’t see it that way.”

Bitterness crept into her voice. “Apparently not.”

He picked up her hands. “Bess, do you love him?”

Her lips trembled. “I’ll always love him.” She withdrew a hand and swiped at her tears. “But it’s hard the way he is now.”

A car pulled into the driveway and Bess shot Ben an anguished look. “He’s here.”

“Reserve your judgment. Give him a chance.”

“If Mom and the kids come home—”

“I’ll head them off.”

“Okay, then.” Bess took a deep breath and crossed to the front door.

Ben waited until Bess led her husband into the room. Darren’s face was sallow, marred by a razor nick on his chin, but his eyes were clear, steady. He nodded and returned Ben’s gaze. “Ben,” he murmured by way of acknowledgment.

“Darren.”

“If you’ll excuse us, I need to talk with Bess.”

Ben caught Bess’s eye and she shrugged assent.

Picking up on the implied question, Darren cleared his throat. “I haven’t been drinking, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Good,” Ben said, returning his chair to its accustomed position. “I’ll be in the rec room.”

Pausing in the kitchen to get a soda from the refrigerator, Ben couldn’t help overhearing Darren’s first comments to Bess.

“I want you and the boys back. But before you say anything, I need to tell you something. When I got passed over for that promotion, it hurt. Bad. More than you ever knew. All I could think of was how you deserved better. How Ben is always here for all of you and I could never measure up—be the kind of dependable guy he is. I let resentment and self-pity swallow me in a bottle.”

Ben knew he should go downstairs. Instead he waited in the silence. Then came the words he knew his sister needed to hear. “Bess, I’ve started going to AA. I hope someday I’ll be man enough for you—like your brother—and that you’ll forgive me. That you’ll turn to me the way you’ve always turned to him.”

Now Ben did slip downstairs, leaving the door open so he could catch his mom and the kids before they intruded. He switched on a baseball game, hit the mute button and settled back in the worn recliner to ponder Darren’s assessment of him. He hardly regarded himself as some model of dependability. Then came another thought. Maybe he was a crippler instead. Was he overly protective of his family as Laurel had suggested?

Idly he watched a fly ball soar toward the right-fielder, knowing in his gut that hidden in Darren’s words was an accusation he needed to think about.

L
AUREL TUCKED ONE FOOT
up under her as she hunched on the counter stool, studying the day’s receipts. The final total—$5,713.62. She glanced around the empty store, once again orderly and ready for business, thanks to the efforts of Ellen and Megan. The grand opening had been an unqualified success, although she knew to rein in her enthusiasm. Once the novelty wore off for her customer base, would they return again and again as she needed them to in order to be successful? Only time would tell.

Tonight, though, she wanted to celebrate, but her parents were in West Virginia and Ellen had a date. She tried not to think about Ben. He knew how much the opening meant to her, yet she hadn’t seen or heard from him all day. She tried to rationalize that something had come up as it seemed to with great regularity, particularly where his family was concerned. This was an aspect of their relationship that worried her. She enjoyed the Nolans and the idea of family, but the reality was a different matter. What did she know about sibling relationships?

Yet despite her lack of experience, she couldn’t help thinking Ben’s responsibility to his family went too far, and in the process, he denied himself a life. If she wanted a permanent relationship with him, his family would be a major consideration. And there was nothing she could do to change the situation. That was up to Ben.

She made out the deposit slip, then scooped up the bills and coins and secured them in a bank bag. Okay. She’d take the money to the night deposit box, pick up a submarine sandwich and a six-pack and have her own party of one. No thoughts of Ben Nolan were going to spoil her celebration.

When she returned home, to her surprise, Ben was sitting on her doorstep. He leaped to his feet and ran a hand nervously through his hair. She walked slowly toward him, aware she ought to be miffed with him, but the abject apology she read in his eyes made that impossible. “I’m sorry, Laurel,” were his first words. “I intended to come, but—”

“Something came up,” she finished for him.

“Bess needed me.”

The thought occurred to her that if it hadn’t been Bess, it would’ve been Mike or Terry or his mother, but that was petty. Nor could she bring herself to say, “I needed you, too.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

He stood awkwardly, hands in his pockets. “Megan said the opening was a great success.”

“It was.”

He eyed the deli sack in her right hand. “Dinner?”

She held up the six-pack. “And party.”

“I want to take you out. Do the whole champagne and toasts thing.”

Weariness and a sense of too-little-too-late swept over her. “Some other time, Ben. I’m beat.”

“Next Saturday? A table for two at the Dunes Inn?”

He was trying. She could be gracious, she guessed. “I’d like that.”

“Meanwhile—” he took the six-pack from her “—would you share a brew with me and fill me in about today?”

What was it about the man that was so irresistible? Besides, she needed—wanted—to replay the day for someone. And “someone” was here.

He made a slight bow and motioned to the door. “After you, ma’am.”

L
AUREL USHERED HIM
to the kitchen table, handed him a beer, then gave him half of her sandwich. “There’s plenty for both of us.”

Ben remembered he’d skipped a real lunch, and after that the events with Bess and Darren had taken away his appetite. Suddenly, he was famished. “Looks good. Thanks.”

Between bites, she began telling him about the grand opening. Finally, she put down her sandwich, the better to gesture enthusiastically as she described Katherine and the success of the afternoon tea. For a grand finale, she stood up and spread her arms ringmaster-style to announce the day’s take.

He applauded and she made a theatrical bow. “That’s impressive,” he said, wondering if he should caution her that one day did not a season make.

She grinned at him. “I know what you’re thinking, counselor.” She affected the deep voice of an accomplished orator. “Temper your optimism. Every day is not a grand opening.”

He held up his hands. “You nailed me dead to rights.”

“We optimists can also be realistic.”

“And this realist doesn’t mean to come across as a pessimist.” He set down his beer and picked up her hand. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Her expression sobered. “I’m a big girl, Ben. I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

He struggled to read between the lines. Was she implying she didn’t need anyone? Didn’t need him? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you can stop worrying about me. You have enough on your plate without that.”

He pulled his hand away and leaned back in his chair. “I guess we should talk about this afternoon. I wanted to be here.”

“But?”

“Bess called. Darren was coming to see her. She wanted me there.”

“For what?”

Laurel’s neutral tone carried a hint of criticism. “In case Darren was drunk.”

“Was he?”

“No.”

“What did he want?”

“He’s been to AA. He’s asked Bess and the boys to come back. After he left, she wanted to know what I think.”

“Isn’t the bigger question what Bess thinks?”

Something important was being said. “What are you suggesting?”

Her fingers were tightly clenched around her beer can. “Ben, have you ever heard of enabling?”

Anger, hot and defensive, filled him. “Do you think that’s what I want to do?” He had to move. He stood, rotated his chair, straddled it and sat back down. “I want them to be able to cope on their own, but right now they all turn to me.”

She was studying the top of her can intently. “And because of that you avoid having a life of your own?”

“Avoid? Laurel, go ahead. I can see you’re dying to enlighten me.”

She sighed. “I’ve said too much.”

He pounded the table. “Not by half. Go ahead, lay it on me.”

“I can’t talk when you’re so angry.”

Frustration seized him. “I’m not angry. I’m confused. You started this. Finish it.”

Instead, she carefully folded the deli sack and napkins, rose to her feet and disposed of the trash. When she turned back to him, she said, “I need to touch you while I talk. Please.” She nodded toward the sofa. “Sit with me.”

His legs were wooden, but he did as she asked. Like a fragile Buddha, she sat cross-legged, facing him, holding his one hand between her two. She began tentatively, “I know I’m no expert on families, and I’m not minimizing the needs and problems that exist in yours. But in the long run, are you doing the people you love any service by being their savior?”

“Savior?”
He laughed bitterly. “Not me.”

Laurel rubbed a thumb up and down the back of his hand before continuing. “Why did Bess call you this afternoon?”

“I told you. She didn’t want to face Darren alone.”

“He’s her husband. And while he may have his problems she’s never feared him.”

“She needed support.” But as he said it, he wasn’t so certain.

“Aren’t their marital problems between the two of them? Where do you fit in?”

“I’m a buffer.”

She raised her eyes. “How can they ever solve anything if a brotherly paragon like yourself is always standing between them?”

He threw back his head against the sofa. For a brief moment he wanted to get up and leave, but he couldn’t because Darren’s words, mumbled as he left the house late that afternoon, assaulted him. “Ben, why does Bess need me when she’s got you? You know, much as I try, I’ll never be you, but I gotta tell you—I love Bess and want to be worthy of her.”

Was he part of the problem? That was the very question he’d been mulling over ever since this afternoon. Before he could frame a response to Laurel’s question, she started in again, clearly on a roll.

“And Mike? You bail him out time after time—and each time he gets your attention. So maybe the stakes get bigger and bigger for him. He’s a kid, Ben. How else is he going to learn except from experience? Why are you so determined to protect him from consequences?” She paused, holding his hand in a death grip. “And what about Brian? How come he gets off scot-free while you attend to everyone’s needs? He’s a responsible adult with a thriving business.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up and paced back and forth. She didn’t understand. “Are you through yet? What about Terry?”

Her face flushed, she stood, too. “What
about
Terry? Hasn’t he figured out yet that instead of coming to you for everything, he could cut back on his expenses? Show a little thoughtfulness?”

She approached him and put her hands on his shoulders. He looked away, furious with her, questioning himself.

“Look, I don’t mean to sound so judgmental. I know there’s a middle ground here somewhere. Part of why I love you is that you
do
care, that you
are
so responsible. But you have a life, too. Or should have.”

“Whoa,” he backed away. “What did you just say?” He couldn’t believe it.

“You are entitled to a life, too.”

He bit his lip, then said, “Not that part. Before that.”

She stepped forward, slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him with the warmest brown eyes he’d ever seen. “I said—” she paused for emphasis “—I love you, Ben.”

He reined in his emotions, not daring to loose them. “But?”

“I love your family more every day. They’re wonderful, giving people. Here’s the ‘but.’ If you care for me, too, if we’re to think about a future, there’s something I have to know. There might come a time when I’d be the one in crisis, when you might have to put me first, ahead of your family. Could you?”

Dad.
The image was accompanied by a stab of pain. From the time he was a little boy, Ben had tried to make up for his father’s handicaps. Fix everything. He remembered the charge his father had given him before he died, the responsibility for the family Ben had willingly assumed. But was his caring stifling his family instead of liberating them?

He could hardly bear to look into Laurel’s face, it was suffused with such doubt and longing.

“Ben?” Her lips parted, her eyes filled.

He pulled her to him, his heart racing. Finally he found his voice. “You
are
important to me. I hope I can always be there for you, but you have to understand—”

She placed the pad of one finger on his lips. “I’m trying. I didn’t mean to come across so selfishly.”

“Never selfishly.” He kissed her gently. “You’ve given me lots to think about.” He disengaged himself, then framed her face in his hands. He knew what she needed to hear him say, what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he finished inanely with “Thanks for the beer and the sandwich.”