by Nella Tyler
We went into the study where Davis, who’d worked in this house as the main butler from before I was born—was waiting with drinks. I nodded at him, and he gave me a wink, like he always did. Dad sat in his favorite leather armchair, while Mom and I sat on one couch, and Philippa and Maggie sat on the other. All of us chose to have a cup of strong coffee, save Dad, who had two fingers of fine imported scotch. It would take him over an hour to drink it, that was how much he savored every sip.
Alice, who had to be removed from the dining room after she refused to calm the hell down, rejoined us in the study. She’d been fed her share of gravy-soaked dog food, and so was content to lie down near my feet and sleep off her full stomach. It was a plan I’d usually take part in if not for Maggie and her mom being here.
“I’d love to see your gardens,” Philippa said, glancing at my mom. She rested her saucer and coffee cup onto her lap. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about them but have never had the pleasure.”
“Eloise single-handedly chooses the flowers and other plants that get installed every year,” Dad said. “The landscape architect sits down with her before preparing for the cooler weather and again right before spring planting begins. I just stay the hell out of the way.”
The women laughed, and I smiled because that was entirely true.
“We can go take a look at them right now,” Mom said. She loved showing people around the property, especially the gardens. It was still very pretty outside, but nowhere near as lovely as it would be come spring and summertime. “I’ll just need my coat.” She put her coffee down, cup clinking on saucer, and stood. Philippa did the same. The women left together, discussing plants as they exited at the opposite side of the room from where we’d all just come in.
“Well, we won’t see them again,” Dad said, smiling, and I laughed.
“That might be true.”
“How large are the gardens?” Maggie asked. The deep pink sweater she was wearing looked so soft and perfectly set off her chocolatey hair, which she wore loose down her back. I had to keep my eyes from wandering over the curvy front of that soft sweater and imagining how it would feel under my fingertips.
“They go on for quite a long while after you step outside the rear door,” Dad replied. He rested the hand holding his scotch on the arm of his chair. “We have a few gazebos and many different topiaries that get trimmed back before every winter. It’s a full-time job, maintaining that garden.”
I really wanted some alone time with Maggie, but couldn’t think of a polite way to suggest that to my father that didn’t look like I was trying to get rid of him.
Alice stirred as the conversation continued and went over to Maggie. She leaned to give Alice all kinds of attention, calling her a good girl as she scratched behind her ears.
“She’s so sweet,” Maggie said, shooting me a quick glance before returning her full attention to my dog.
“She’s a terrier mix of some kind. I rescued her from the shelter after I attended a charity lunch with Mom. They had a few dogs there that were available for adoption. I fell in love with Alice right away.”
“She’s so great. I’ve never had a dog.” Maggie didn’t look up from Alice—who was now lying on her back so Maggie could rub her belly.
“Well, you’ve certainly won over old Alice,” Dad said.
I stood to set my empty coffee cup next to Mom and Philippa’s. Dad rose to his feet as well.
“I’m going to see how things are coming along in the kitchen,” he said. “I love to see the pies before they’re sliced.” He looked down at his silver Rolex. “It’s almost 5 now. I’m going to tell the staff to have them ready to serve by 6.”
“Sounds good,” I said. I was still so full, I doubted I’d be able to eat more than a small sliver of one pie, but James and his crew knew to make a pumpkin pie for me to take home with me. I planned to have a slice for breakfast, lunch, and dinner over the next few days until it was gone.
“I’ll let your mother know,” Dad said, and left.
I smiled at Maggie, who had straightened up. Color had flooded her face from so much time bent over scratching on Alice, who had trotted out after Dad. I moved to sit next to Maggie, wanting to be closer to her, but nervous too for no apparent reason. The day had gone so well. And now we’d even get a bit of alone time to enjoy each other’s company. I just needed to watch what I did and said. The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable.
“Your parents are really funny,” she said, smiling a little. “They seem like complete opposites.”
“They really are, but it works for them.” I watched her for an uncomfortable group of seconds before continuing. “I hope to be as happy as they are one day. I just need to find the right girl.”
Maggie’s smile changed, and the look in her eye was hotter. “Maybe what you really need is to find the right woman.”
I didn’t have a ready reply to that, and the heat in the way she was looking at me gave me pause. I could easily be imagining what I wanted to see, not what I was actually seeing. But then she leaned in to close the distance between us, and kissed me lightly on the lips. She stayed close, our hot breath mingling as our eyes met, and that fire was still there. She moved in again, and this time I kissed back, our mouths opening to each other as I buried my hands in her thick, soft hair. I kissed her deeply, tasting every inch of her mouth, wanting to crush her against me as tightly as I could. Our tongues explored each other’s mouths and I moved my fingers over the back of her neck. Her skin was soft and supple. Her passion was electrifying my own. We moved closer together, the heat stoking the need in me—to have her close, to know her in every intimate way possible. It had been a long time since I’d been with a woman, and now I had the one I’d been dreaming about beneath my eager fingertips.
A door closed elsewhere in the house, the sound echoing, and it brought my senses rushing back. What the fuck was I doing?
I pulled out of the kiss, and she looked up at me with naked confusion as I slid my hands out of her hair. That confusion quickly turned to hurt, and I wondered, for the second time, what the fuck I was doing. Why had I let that happen again?
Her cheeks colored, and she sprang to her feet.
“I should go find my mom,” she blurted out, and turned so I couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Maggie,” I started, but I felt breathless and out of sorts, and I didn’t know how to continue. She didn’t wait for me to figure it out.
“I’m not really in the mood for pie. We might just go home now.”
“Okay,” I said in a low voice. “I’ll take you out to the garden.”
We walked out of the back way together, our heads down, not looking at each other or speaking again.
Maggie
Black Friday
Eliza and I refused to buy into the capitalistic tradition that was Black Friday. We had a long-standing breakfast date that day, choosing a local restaurant to support with our dollars instead of joining the crazy throngs of people at the mall, local department stores, or flooding into the city to tear merchandise off shelves before someone else could get to it. I did most of my holiday shopping online anyway, preferring the solitude and peace.
We were at a table in the corner of the restaurant. It was a ghost town in here with most everyone else still out shopping like the crazy people they were. We were leaned over onto the table, ignoring manners with our elbows on the table, nursing our steaming hot mugs of coffee as we waited on our meals to arrive.
“So, what’s going on with you?” she asked. She’d been staring at me like she was trying to figure out a particularly stubborn math problem ever since we’d shrugged out of our coats, scarves, and gloves and sat down. “You’ve been off all morning.”
I heaved a deep sigh. I’d barely slept the night before after what happened at Banks’s parents’ house. I couldn’t believe how forward I’d been, but he’d kissed me first at my house. And it had just seemed perfect, with us finally alone after a day sp
ent with our parents, the smell of cinnamon and cloves filling our nostrils, that gentle, playful heat between us building from a low simmer to a boil. The look in his eyes was so welcoming and needy. It matched the feelings I’d only begun to acknowledge since the kiss at my house. It felt wrong too—Banks was BJ’s best friend—but I couldn’t deny what I was feeling. Not anymore. I needed advice, but the only people I talked to about important things were Mom, Banks, and Eliza. For obvious reasons, Eliza was my only choice here.
I scanned the restaurant quickly, making sure no one was here who knew me or Banks. I recognized some of the faces, but they weren’t close friends, and they also didn’t seem particularly interested in what we were about to discuss over here. It was about 8 a.m. on the day after Thanksgiving. Most people were either still at home eating pie for breakfast, or out shopping.
I met Eliza’s gaze and finally just decided to come out with it. “Banks and I kissed yesterday.” I kept going through Eliza’s gasp and wide-eyed stare. “And before yesterday. I have no idea what the hell is going on in my life anymore.”
“I knew it!” she whispered, leaning over the table to keep the words between us. “I knew he liked you. I could see it from a mile away.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not really sure how he feels. He kissed me the other day but I kissed him yesterday and he pulled away from me. I don’t know what to do.”
“He definitely likes you and it sounds like you like him. What’s to worry about?”
“Are you serious?” I gave her a withering look, but it didn’t do a damned thing to wipe the triumphant smile off of her face. We were both dressed in sweats and no makeup, our unwashed hair scrapped back into messy ponytails. We were here to get breakfast, not find dates. “Banks is BJ’s best friend. Of all the available guys in the world, why Banks?”
She rolled her dark eyes. “He’s hot, number one. I can’t believe you haven’t done something about him before today. And he likes you. I’ve been saying that for weeks. BJ wouldn’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life. And Banks would probably be the guy he’d pick if he had to choose someone to come after him. They were best friends. He’d know Banks would be good to you, right?”
That sounded a little too convenient to be realistic. “I’m not so sure about that.”
The waiter arrived while I was mulling over what Eliza had just said, setting a plate of French toast in front of me and a spinach omelet in front of Eliza. He left with a promise to refresh our cups of coffee shortly, and I picked up where I left off.
“It sometimes feels like I just lost BJ. I don’t know if I’m ready to move on.”
She finished her first mouthful of cheesy eggs before she answered me. “It seems like you’re ready if you just jumped on Banks last night like a woman possessed.”
My face turned bright red, which only made Eliza giggle.
“There’s nothing wrong with it. Banks is a great guy. I think you’re crazy if you let whatever bullshit excuses you come up with get in the way of what might be a really good relationship.”
I shook my head as I set my fork down. “It’s not that simple, Eliza. Even thinking about Banks makes me feel guilty, like I’m cheating on my husband. How can I feel like this for Banks when I still feel married half the time?”
She shrugged, her expression softening as she looked at me. “I can’t pretend I understand exactly what you’re going through, Mags, but I do know that moving on with your life is exactly what BJ would’ve wanted. He wouldn’t want to see you deny yourself something that might be good for you. Ultimately, you need to do what you feel is right. I think you could have something good with Banks. He’s a nice guy who really cares about you, and he loved BJ, too.” She took another bite of her omelet as I considered what she’d said.
The truth was, I did like Banks a great deal more than I’d ever admitted to myself. It felt like it had come on so suddenly, but it had been lurking there for the last several months while I went on with my life and succeeded in ignoring it. That kiss at my house had unlocked those feelings, and now I couldn’t put them back in the dark where they used to lie quietly. I didn’t know how to make those feelings work with the ones I still had for BJ. Sometimes it felt like I’d just lost him. Other times it felt like it’d been years. Either way, I needed to work through it, and I thought I knew a way to start doing that.
Eliza and I kept the conversation light for the rest of the breakfast, and then sat around for another hour sipping on two more mugs of coffee as we caught up on all the developments—or lack there were—in our lives until we parted ways with hugs and promises to do this again soon.
I went home to my empty house, trying not to think about anything too serious. Brian Sr. gave me a call later in the afternoon, letting me know that he’d be home the following day and inviting me over so we could catch up. I accepted, pleased to have a plan for the weekend that included him. We’d been close before BJ died, but had only gotten closer afterwards, serving as each other’s rocks through the most difficult year of our lives.
The next day, I woke early—I’d only been able to sleep around three hours—cleaned up until it got close to the time I was supposed to go over to Brian’s, and then took a shower. I dressed casually, but made sure I looked my best, unlike yesterday when it looked like I’d rolled straight out of bed and into the car to drive to the restaurant.
I packed one of the pies I’d brought home from the Wheaton house last night—they gave us an untouched pumpkin and wild berry pie, both of which Mom ordered me to take home, refusing to have that kind of temptation lurking around her house—and drove over to Brian’s place a little after 2 o’clock.
He answered with a great big smile on his face, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, which was his usual cold weather wear.
“It’s so great to see you!” he exclaimed, stepping outside to give me a hug. I loved this man like a father, and I so needed to be close to him today. Just hugging him was bringing me close to tears.
“I missed you,” I said, speaking into his barrel chest as he rocked me back and forth and placed a kiss on the top of my head. He was over six feet tall, just like BJ had been. They looked so much alike that I could dream about what BJ might’ve looked like in his 60s.
“Come on in,” he said, stepping aside to let me go into the house first. He kept his place tidy, but rustic. He loved fishing, hunting, and anything else that gave him an excuse to spend an entire day outside. BJ had been the same. It was funny, because Banks never struck me as the outdoorsy type, unless he was walking around a car show, but apparently he’d gone along with BJ and his dad on plenty of hunting, camping, or fishing adventures over the years.
“I brought pie,” I said, lifting the reusable grocery bag I’d packed with pie and a can of whipped cream.
“Perfect,” he replied with another warm smile. “I just made my second pot of coffee for the day.”
We walked back to his sunny kitchen. He’d built this house with his bare hands, the same way he and BJ had built the house I lived in now, which meant every inch of it was custom and designed with both functionality and style in mind. He was a true craftsman, and he’d taught BJ everything he’d known about style and creativity. It was why he’d been able to open the shop at such a young age and become known across the country for his meticulous restoration projects.
Brian poured the coffee and brought out the cream and sugar while I fetched the dessert plates and silverware and cut us each a generous piece of sweet-smelling pumpkin pie, then squirted an ample dollop of whipped cream on top. We sat down across from each other, relaxed and smiling, the way we always were in each other’s presence. I could be myself around him in a way I couldn’t with Mom or even Eliza. On the way back here, we’d walked by framed pictures of BJ at all stages of life, from infancy through each grade in school, painfully captured in yearly photographs that tracked his quick progress towards manhood. In the middle of the wall next to me was an 11 by 17 picture printed on ca
nvas of BJ and me on our wedding day, both of us smiling like mad, our eyes slightly glazed from all the possibility opening up in front of us. If only we’d known we had so few years together. Would I have done anything differently? Loved him harder? Been a better wife? We’d been happy, but could we have been happier? Did BJ know how much I loved him before the end came? Those were the questions that haunted me.
We ate our pie and talked about the holiday, mostly about how nice it was for him to see Judy and the grandkids. He seemed very happy with how things had gone, though he was glad to get home again after more than a week away. When he asked me how things had gone here in Danbury, I started talking about Thanksgiving at the Wheaton mansion, but it felt like I was just telling lie after lie. Surrounded by pictures of BJ and our wedding day, I could barely choke down my pie with how terrible I felt.
“What’s wrong, Maggie?” Brian finally asked, his dark eyes watching me closely. “You don’t seem quite yourself today.”
I wiped at my eyes, alarmed to find that I was only a second or two away from bursting into tears. “I don’t know what to do, Brian. I feel so terrible, like I’m stabbing BJ in the back.” Now I was crying for real, the tears streaming down my face.
Brian handed me a fresh napkin and I blotted at my eyes with it, wanting to keep my mascara from running down my face and making me look like a horror show.
“It can’t be that bad,” he said, gently. “I’m here to help you if I can.”
That only made me cry harder, my shoulders shaking and breath hitching in my throat. But I had to get this out.
“I kissed Banks,” I said, the words much louder than I’d meant them to be with the power of my tears behind them. “I’m so sorry. I know that’s the last thing you wanted to hear.” I dropped my head, weeping into my napkin, all the anxiety and churning emotions just tearing loose. It was worse more than just betraying BJ. Now I’d disappointed my father-in-law as well.