Sweet Horizons

by Jean C. Gordon

  An hour, and a total kitchen cleanup, later. Sonja had all the meal preparations done and the ham, potatoes, and brownies baking in the oven. Shelley was at the kitchen table happily coloring. Maybe she could start moving some of the foodstuffs back to the pantry. Sonja glanced down at her flour, sour cream, and chocolate decorated shirt and shorts. She needed to change her clothes. Not for Jeff. She’d change anyway, even if it were just her and Shelley. Or so she told herself.

  Her phone she’d left on the table near Shelley rang.

  “Papa,” Shelley said.

  Sonja walked over. After what Shelley had done this afternoon, calling Jeff, Sonja had to wonder if the little girl recognized Jeff’s number. More likely, Shelley wanted it to be Jeff. But it was Jeff.

  “Hi,” she answered.

  “Hey. Something has come up, I guess I have to take a raincheck on the meal.”

  “Oh.” Even Sonja could hear the disappointment in her voice, but maybe Jeff hadn’t. “Shelley will be disappointed.” Now she was guilting him.

  “I could make it later than you planned, more seven o’clock than six.” The line went silent, except for the background noise of the shop. “That is, if you have enough for another guest.”

  She had enough to feed six people, at least.

  “Tell me if I’m overstepping for even asking,” Jeff added.

  It was a little odd. “I’m making plenty. Sure. Anyone, I know?” She wasn’t really up on Jeff’s life outside of their family interactions and the shop.”

  “You know of him.”

  That was cryptic. “Wait, Eric Slade?”

  “One and the same. He called saying his production company is scouting the mountains around Asheville for a movie setting and he decided to take a detour and drop in here first. See how his son’s bike is coming.”

  “I’m … I’m only making ham, baked potatoes, and green beans,” she stuttered. “Nothing fancy. Brownies and ice cream for desert.”

  “Sounds great to me.”

  He hadn’t thought that she needed to make something better for Eric than she was making for him, had he? But that was how she’d made it sound.

  “You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve never entertained a movie star before.” She forced a laugh.

  “Don’t worry. Do what you planned to do, be how you always are. That’s enough for anyone.”

  Rather than calm her as she knew Jeff intended, his words kept her insides humming. Not because she was nervous about entertaining Eric, but because of the kindness in them.

  “So we’ll see you about seven?”

  “Yes, I’m leaving for the Charleston airport now.”

  “Okay.” Sonja turned to Shelley after she ended the call. “Papa is going to bring a friend to eat with us.”

  “Friend, Arfur?” the little girl asked.

  “Nope, not your friend Arthur. Papa’s friend Mr. Slade.”

  “Okay.” She went back to coloring.

  Sonja surveyed the kitchen. Everything was as set as it was going to be here. But she needed to change her clothes and touch up her hair and makeup. Eric Slade was coming to supper at her house. Anyone would be excited.

  So what was wrong with her? Why was that excitement overshadowed by her disappointment that she and Jeff wouldn’t get to restock the pantry together?

  C H A P T E R 8

  Jeff strode down the airport walkway to the arrival area for private jet passengers. It wasn’t that he wasn’t glad to be seeing his old friend. Eric could have had better timing, though. He’d been looking forward to having supper with Sonja and Shelley—the three of them—and some one-on-one time with Sonja after they’d put Shelley to bed. He’d enjoyed the other evening when they’d watched Emma Fielding. Jeff reached the area and looked for Eric before approaching the nearby information desk.

  “Has Eric Slade’s jet arrived yet?” he asked.

  “May I have your name, please?” the attendant responded.

  “Jeff Brewster. I’m picking Eric up.”

  The attendant checked her clipboard. “Yes, I see your name here. ID please.”

  Jeff handed over his license.

  The attendant checked it. “Thank you, Mr. Brewster. Mr. Slade’s plane has been okayed for landing. He should be disembarking soon.”

  “Thanks.” Jeff took a seat with the few other people waiting. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his seat. Eric’s visit’s timing could be a good thing. The time he’d spent with Sonja recently had been comfortable, real comfortable, reminding Jeff of times with his wife. And as much as he liked Sonja, he didn’t think he had it in him to commit himself to a relationship like that. But he could see them having something good.

  “Yo, anyone there?”

  Jeff looked up to see Eric standing next to his seat. He rose. “Yeah, I was thinking.”

  “Something good from your expression,” Eric said.

  “Yeah, really good. So …” Jeff rushed on to block any questions. “How was your flight?”

  “Boring.”

  The men started walking toward the airport exit. “If you don’t have any plans, for the evening, Sonja, Jesse’s mother-in-law … I told you about her.” Geez. Of course, he’d told Eric about Sonja. “She invited us for supper at her place.”

  “No plans. But I don’t want to horn in if this is something you and Sonja already had planned before I dropped my visit on you.”

  Although Jeff had called it a date, it wasn’t really a date. Shelley would be there, too. Unless Sonja had fed her early and put her to bed by the time he and Eric reached Indigo Bay. “No, it’s nothing special.” Liar!

  Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Took long enough to answer. You sure?”

  “I’m sure. I put some shelving up for her. She invited me for supper. Nothing special.”

  “Okay. I gotta eat somewhere.”

  Jeff stepped out into the warm summer night. “I didn’t mean the food wouldn’t be special. Sonja is a great cook.” He stared out at the short-term parking area. Eric hadn’t been criticizing. He didn’t need to talk up Sonja. “My truck’s over here.” Jeff pointed to the right and started walking.

  When they reached his truck, Jeff took a minute to text Sonja that they were on their way before he started the vehicle. The two men caught up with each other on the half-hour drive from Charleston to Indigo Bay.

  “Nice town,” Eric observed as they drove down Main Street. “But the East Coast can’t compare with the West Coast, eh?”

  “I’m adapting,” Jeff answered. “Small-town living has it’s attractions.” A vision of Sonja at the beach the other day popped into his head. “There’s my shop.” He pointed, cutting the pleasant picture short. “I’ll take you over in the morning.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Jeff pulled the truck up to the B&B.

  Eric whistled. “Some place.”

  “Now. You should have seen it when Jesse inherited it from my wife’s uncle, before the renovations.”

  “Gothic looking.”

  Jeff looked at the structure. It was. He hadn’t noticed that before. “It’s on the historic registry. Shelley’s family were early settlers here.” He lifted the door knocker and let it drop a couple of times.

  “No key?” Eric asked in a suggestive tone.

  “No.” Not to this door. He didn’t need to egg his friend on by mentioning the key he had to the french doors.

  The door opened. “Hi, come in.”

  Sonja was dressed in a clingy—to Jeff—sundress that skimmed her curves and ended at her knees, showing off her tanned legs. For Eric? Jeff glanced sidewise at his friend and gritted his teeth. Eric appeared to be enjoying the view as much as he was.

  “I live on the third floor,” she said as she walked them to the staircase behind her, where Shelley sat on the bottom step.

  “Papa.” She hurled herself at him and he lifted her up over his head and beamed at her giggle before settling Shelley in his left arm.

  “This is my grand
daughter, Shelley.” Pride flooded him. “Shelley, can you say ‘hi’ to Papa’s friend Eric?”

  The little girl buried her face in Jeff’s shoulder, which muffled her “Hi, Ric.”

  Eric laughed. “I could have guessed that before she said Papa, even if I hadn’t known we were having supper with her and Sonja, and you hadn’t spent half the drive here talking about Shelley. She looks just like Shelley, your wife.”

  Eric’s “your wife” seemed to make Sonja hesitate before placing her hand on the stair rail and taking the first step up. Or he was being overly sensitive. Jeff choked back a groan. Him sensitive?

  “The guest rooms are on the second floor,” Sonja said. “Jeff said you were interested in the suite for our Independence Day celebration. Would you like to see it on our way up?”

  “Sure. My people haven’t confirmed the reservation yet?”

  “No. Maybe. We’ve had some glitches in our online reservation system.”

  Eric frowned. “They should have called. I’d like to see it, and I’ll take care of the reservation while I’m here.”

  Jeff worked at banishing the thought that Eric was monopolizing Sonja’s attention. They were talking business.

  Shelley started fussing in his arms.

  “She’s tired,” Sonja said. “Would you take her up and get her ready for b-e-d while I show Eric the suite?”

  “I can do that,” Jeff answered. And from the odd look Sonja gave him, she must have noticed the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

  “Shelley,” Sonja said. “Papa is going to take you up to my house, while I show his friend Eric one of the rooms we fixed up.”

  “Yeah,” Jeff injected some unfelt upbeat into his voice. “You can show me those pictures Grammy said you colored while we wait for her.”

  “Okay,” Shelley said around the thumb that had made its way into her mouth.

  At the landing, Jeff stood and watched Sonja and Eric head up the hall to the suite. Eric didn’t have anything on him, physically. They were both tall. He was in as good a shape as Eric was, despite the hours Jeff suspected Eric spent in some fancy gym. He might have a gray hair or two, as Eric probably did, under a professional dye job. And he had all of his hair, where Eric’s was getting a little thin in spots. Eric was more charming, but he was also more superficial.

  Jeff hoisted Shelley higher in his arm and started up the third flight of stairs. Eric didn’t have anything on him. He stopped at the top. Who was he kidding? Eric was a freaking movie star. With fame, success, and money. He pulled open the door to Sonja’s flat.

  If he didn’t get a grip on himself, this was going to be a long evening.

  Sonja welcomed the opportunity to get out of the kitchen and duck into the pantry to get the mustard Eric had asked about for his ham. The testosterone the guys, especially Jeff, were radiating around the supper table was so thick she could cube it, package it, and make a fortune. She lifted the unopened mustard from the shelf. She supposed she should be flattered. But she’d been looking forward to a quiet evening with Jeff—and Eric. Not a ping-pong competition of boasts thinly cloaked as remember whens and praise for her cooking, decorating, appearance, and remodeling skills—from Jeff. A competition where, apparently, she was the trophy. Sonja bit her lip. She’d done the trophy thing before when she was married, and she wasn’t about to take up the mantle again.

  Standing to the side of the doorway between the kitchen and pantry where she couldn’t be seen by them, Sonja assessed Jeff and Eric. Both were attractive virile men. Eric was the more charming. No, outgoing, she corrected herself. Jeff had his own quiet charm and authenticity. With Eric, it was hard to tell if he was being his real self or if she was seeing him cloaked in his movie-star persona. She shook her head. What did that matter? It wasn’t like she was going to have any prolonged personal contact with him. And, as for Jeff, she needed to decide whether to let down her guard more and allow his attention as more than a family friend. But she didn’t need to make that decision tonight. Her gaze was drawn back to Jeff. Who do you think you’re kidding? her heart asked. You already have.

  “Here you go,” Sonja handed Eric the mustard, which he applied liberally to the ham he’d proclaimed perfect minutes earlier. “So, Jeff said you’re here scouting a location for a new movie.”

  “Yeah, outside of Ashville. I’m headed there tomorrow after I see how this guy is doing with my son’s bike.” Eric jabbed Jeff with his elbow.

  “Another action-adventure? I have to admit that I’ve never seen one of your films.” Sonja dropped her gaze to her plate and told herself she hadn’t said that because Eric’s elbow jab had irritated her.

  “We’ll have to remedy that. What do you say I send you and Jeff premier tickets to my October release and my private jet for transportation? I’ll even put you up in one of the bungalows at the Beverly Hills Hotel.”

  She glanced at Jeff who avoided her gaze. “What do you think, Jeff?”

  Jeff’s head shot up, his expression conflicted. Sonja held her breath while she waited for him to answer. Had she misread Jeff’s interest in her? If so, what was that competition with Eric about? It hit her. Money. Jeff must be seeing Eric’s offer as another one-up on him. She turned to Eric and caught what she was pretty sure was the friend Eric under the movie star veneer.

  “It’ll be fun,” he said, with what sounded like sincerity to her. “Like old times.”

  “Sure, yeah. After the crush of the summer season here, we could use some down time for a few days.”

  It was middle-school-crush silly, but Sonja warmed at Jeff’s use of we.

  “Great,” Eric said. “I’ll get someone right on that,”

  The movie star was back, and Jeff’s face had lost the openness that had been in his expression when he’d accepted Eric’s offer. If they took up the ping-pong again, she was going to clear their plates and give them their desserts to go.

  Sonja searched her mind for a neutral subject to move onto, as the men dug back into their supper. Silence might be better. She and Jeff didn’t need to be in constant conversation when they were together, and when he spoke, it usually had meaning, a contrast to her ex whose “conversation” consisted of orders to or criticisms of her.

  “Jeff, what did you think of the publicity campaigns my PR gal sent?” Eric asked out of nowhere.

  Sonja clenched her fork. Here it comes again. Then, it struck her. Eric was always in motion. She wasn’t a psychologist, but she wondered if Eric wasn’t trying to impress Jeff, rather than her, or was uncomfortable in small social situations. She’d read that a surprising number of movie and TV stars were more introverts than extroverts.

  “I looked them over,” Jeff said, “but couldn’t decide between two of them. I sent them to Sonja.”

  “We were going to talk about them this evening,” she said, glad for the fairly neutral subject. “Did you have a preference?”

  Eric shifted a piece of potato around on his plate. “I have to admit to not looking at them, depending on my girl’s expertise.”

  Sonja clenched her teeth at Eric’s girl following his gal. But she didn’t say anything.

  “What did you think, Sonja?” Jeff asked, placing his fork on his plate and giving her his full attention.

  She couldn’t help smiling before she gave him her pros and cons on the two campaigns and listened to his take on them. Eric seemed to be somewhere else.

  “It was hard to decide, but the second campaign better captures the spirit of the Indigo Bay Independence Day celebration.”

  “Yes, I thought so, too,” Jeff said with an enthusiasm that told her he wasn’t just humoring her as her ex had so often done when she’d expressed an opinion. And, then, gone and done whatever he wanted.

  “Did you get that, Eric?” Jeff asked.

  “Um, yeah, just let the PR group know.”

  “Okay, you guys want more of anything or shall I bring out dessert? My triple chocolate brownies ala mode.”

  Jeff patted
his trim waist. “I’m ready for dessert.”

  “Ice cream only for me.” Eric said. “I’m allergic to chocolate.”

  “Sorry,” Sonja said, rising and lifting her plate from the table.

  “You couldn’t have known. Ice cream is good,” Eric said.

  “Man, I forgot about that, not that I knew what Sonja was making.” Jeff also rose and picked up his plate. “I’ll take his brownie if you’re looking to get rid of it.”

  Sonja laughed before she took the plate, piled it on hers, and waved him off. “Thanks, but you stay and talk. I can handle things.”

  Eric passed his plate to her, and the guys began to reminisce about a time when they were kids and Eric had inadvertently eaten chocolate.

  Sonja drifted to the kitchen, bolstered by Jeff’s automatic offer to help her and magnanimous offer to take an extra brownie off her hands. She returned a couple of minutes later, and both men made short order of their desserts.

  “Great supper,” Jeff said.

  “Yeah. I haven’t had good home cooking like this since I don’t know when. Thanks for letting me tag along with Jeff.” He rose. “I’m going to go down and have a smoke. I know, nasty habit.”

  Jeff rose, too. “We probably should get going, unless you want help.” He motioned at the table.

  She shook her head. “I’ll just put everything in the dishwasher.”

  “Okay.”

  She walked the men to the door of her flat.

  Eric opened it. “I can find my way out. You two go ahead and say your goodbyes.”

  By rote, Sonja took a breath to protest the suggestion she and Jeff needed alone time to say goodnight. Then she caught the smirk Jeff had on his face for Eric and did the only thing she could to wipe it off.

  She rose on her toes and kissed him soundly.

  Through the haze of enjoyment, Jeff heard Eric’s chuckle echo up the stairway. He ignored it, wrapped his arms around Sonja’s waist, and returned her kiss as if he were a drowning man and her lips were his lifeline. In a way he was, had been since his wife’s death. But this was different. He deepened the kiss and relished the electricity that ran through him when Sonja accepted his onslaught. Finishing with a gentle nip of her soft lower lip, Jeff raised his head and gazed at Sonja’s beautiful face. She gazed back, eyes soft, pupils dilated until her blue eyes were nearly black. He dropped his arms and encircled her waist to steady himself on his weak knees.