by Kay Correll
She’d been so happy to see Reed sitting at the table when she’d peeked out into the shop today. Very happy. It was a feeling that totally threw her, in an out-of-control kind of way, and she never liked to feel out of control. Not anymore. She’d had too many years of others deciding her future and making decisions for her. Now she carefully made every decision and directed her own destiny.
But this man put her on edge. Not really in a bad way, but different than she’d ever felt. Off-kilter. Like she was running at full speed down the beach not knowing what she was running towards.
“I’m going to go shopping this afternoon.” Reed took a sip of his water. A lone bead of condensation from the glass dropped onto his shirt. “I need some… well, play clothes, I guess. Sandals. T-shirts. Casual shorts. I don’t know what I was thinking when I was packing to come here.”
“Oh, there’s Island Closet, a great shop for casual clothes. And there’s the Wishing Shop. It’s souvenirs and t-shirts and stuff like that.”
“That sounds good. I’ll have to find out where they are. Can I walk there?”
“You can basically walk anywhere on the island, but there’s also the trolley you can take. If you want to wait until after The Sweet Shoppe closes at two, I’ll go with you and show you where they are.”
What was she doing? She was asking him out. Though showing him the shops wasn’t a date.
“That sounds great. I need to find a laundry, too.”
“You could use my washer and dryer. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? You can do your laundry while we eat.”
He was going to think she was a crazy woman, asking him to do things with her all the time.
“I hate for you to cook for me. You spend all morning in the kitchen.”
“It won’t be anything fancy. Maybe we could grill something?”
“How about we stop by the market and pick up the makings for dinner after our shopping spree? At least let me buy the groceries if you’re going to all the trouble to shop with me and cook me dinner.”
“It’s a deal. I’ll pick you up at the inn about two-thirty. I’ll drive, so we can haul your laundry over and get the groceries. Plus, how do I know you’re not a big-time shopper and you might buy more than we can carry home?” She grinned at him.
“I can’t remember the last time I shopped. I usually order things online.”
“This will be a rare treat for you, then.” She winked at him and glanced at her phone. “I’ve got to go in and grab those scones out of the oven. I’ll see you this afternoon?”
“Yes. I’ll be waiting.”
* * *
Reed stood on the front porch of the inn. The paddle fans on the ceiling stirred the afternoon heat, and it was actually quite pleasant out on the porch. Julie pulled up in a van that said The Sweet Shoppe on the side in large swirling letters. The van had seen better days, he could tell that.
He climbed into the van and dropped his bag of laundry behind the seat. “I’m ready. I think.”
She grinned at him. “I promise I’ll make it as painless as possible.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Shopping isn’t that scary, really.”
“If you say so.”
He couldn’t remember when he’d last gone shopping for any kind of clothes. His wife, Victoria, had taken care of that for him. She’d always said she was a better shopper and he was horrible at choosing what went with what. A pang raced through him.
Now was not the time.
He pasted on a smile as Julie pulled away from the inn.
They wandered through Island Closet. Julie pointed out the most comfortable brand of sandals, so he snagged a pair in his size. He found some casual shorts to add to his to-buy pile.
“No, put that baseball cap back. Try this.” Julie handed him a straw hat. “It’ll keep the sun off your face and be cooler than that cap.”
He tried it on. It fit but…
“Perfect.” Julie smiled. She snatched it off his head and punched it up a bit. “Much better.”
She found a Hawaiian-print shirt with palm trees and parrots and handed it to him.
“Really?” He looked at the shirt skeptically.
“Really. Trust me. This brand is made from a breathable fabric. You’ll love it.”
“If you say so.” Reed really couldn’t imagine himself in it, but what the heck. Julie was having so much fun picking out things for him.
They headed to the Wishing Shop for t-shirts. Here Julie was in her element, choosing shirts with abandon.
“I love t-shirts.” Julie grinned. “Wear them every day at The Sweet Shoppe.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“You really need at least one Belle Island t-shirt.”
“I’m sure I do.”
Julie picked out a bright yellow one.
“Not that one.” Reed panicked a bit. “I don’t do yellow.”
“Okay, how about this one with the lighthouse on it? Make a wish at Lighthouse Point. You want to support our foolish folklore, don’t you?”
“Sure…” Reed wasn’t a sayings kind of t-shirt guy, but this one wasn’t yellow and he’d quit second guessing Julie’s choices over an hour ago. Well, except for yellow. Never yellow.
They grabbed their bags of purchases and Julie drove them back to her cottage.
“Here, bring in your new clothes and we’ll wash them before you wear them.”
“Oh, we don’t have to.”
“Yes, we do. Gets the sizing out of them.”
Reed never washed the items he ordered online before he wore them the first time, but he didn’t think it was worth the argument. Julie seemed fairly determined in her stance. He liked that about her… mostly. “Okay, you win. We’ll wash all of this.”
They carted his laundry and the bags of new clothes into her cottage. Julie quickly sorted them into piles and threw in the first load.
“The grocery store is just around the corner. We could check the fish market, too. Might have a good catch of the day we could grill. Do you want to just walk there?”
“Sounds good.” Reed was really getting into this walk-to-everything lifestyle.
They found some snapper and picked up salad makings at the market. They walked back to the cottage and switched out the laundry, then Reed headed outside to start the coals. Julie had a small backyard with a couple of palm trees in the corner. A patio held a white wrought-iron table and four chairs with an umbrella poking up through the middle of the table. He started the barbecue and popped up the umbrella to give them some shade.
Julie pushed through the backdoor with two tall glasses filled with clinking ice. “Hope you like lemonade.”
“Haven’t had any in years, but it sounds really good.” He reached for a glass. “The coals should be ready in a bit.”
They sat at the table in the shade of the umbrella.
Julie propped her feet up on an extra chair. “So, Seattle. Do you like living there?”
“I do, I guess. I’ve lived there for years.” He watched, entranced, while Julie put the cool glass up to her face.
“Where did you grow up?”
“I, uh.” He pulled his attention from the glass against Julie’s rosy cheek. “I grew up in the Midwest. Kansas City.”
“Really? I lived in Illinois. We were almost neighbors.” She smiled. “What brought you to Seattle?”
That question. The one he didn’t want to answer. He sat for a moment while she stared at him. “I, um… my wife got a job out there, so we moved.”
Julie’s eyes widened.
* * *
“Your wife?” Julie narrowed her eyes, looked at his bare ring finger, then searched his face. He hadn’t been acting like a married man, and she sure as all get out wouldn’t be hanging around with one. “Divorced?”
“Ah, no.” He looked out into her yard, took a sip of his lemonade, then set the glass on the table. “She’s… gone. Passed away a few years ago.”
; “I’m sorry.” Julie felt guilty for her momentary distrust of him.
“You know, I hate all the terms for death. Passed away. Sounds like someone just walked into the sunset. Died. Such a short word and so harsh. Another one I hate—lost one’s life—like someone would lose their keys or their wallet.” He turned and stared at the palm trees.
“I guess I never really thought about all the ways we say someone is… gone.” There, now he had her second guessing her choice of words.
Reed cleared this throat. “I should check those coals.”
The pain was palpable, an aura of grief surrounded Reed. She connected with him in some strange way, the sense of loss. She knew that feeling. Not of death really, but of loss, of being left behind.
Julie wondered how his wife had died, but could see Reed had closed the subject. She got up from the table. “I’ll bring out the fish.”
“Thanks.” Reed still poked around at the coals, avoiding looking at her.
She brought him the fish to grill then went back inside, threw in another load of laundry, and made the salad. She poked her head out the door. “Hey, do you want a beer with dinner?”
“No, I’ll stick with lemonade.”
“Okay.”
She brought out a tray with plates, a pitcher of lemonade, and the salad. They ate outside on her table. The rest of the evening was strained though, and Reed often looked lost in thought. After their meal, Reed helped her clear the table and bring the dishes inside.
“Thanks for letting me do my laundry here.”
“Any time. Why don’t you fold that last load while I do the dishes? I left a laundry basket by the dryer. You can take the clothes back to the inn in the basket. I’ll get it from you later.”
Reed nodded and headed to the laundry room. Julie stood at the sink, mindlessly rinsing the dishes. She’d seen the deep pain in his eyes when he’d mentioned his wife, the kind of searing pain of loss that burned to your soul. She knew that kind of loss only too well. But she’d had years to help dull the pain. His loss was more recent and obviously still raw.
Reed came back in as she was finishing the dishes. “I think I’m all set now. Thanks again for the loan of the washer and dryer.”
“You want to go up to the widow’s walk and watch the sunset? It’s got a great view.”
“Maybe next time.”
Julie’s heart squeezed in her chest. Turned down. That hurt. But she could see him struggling ever since he’d told her about the death of his wife.
“Fine, I’ll take you back to the inn now.” She grabbed the keys to the van.
“Thank you.”
Their stilted conversation hung in the air, and she mourned the easy way they’d teased each other when they’d been out shopping. Which made her think of the term “mourn your loss,” which then just drove her crazy. Was she going to analyze every expression relating to death?
She climbed into the van and slammed the door with a bit more force than was necessary.
Chapter 8
Tally and Susan entered The Sweet Shoppe the next morning. Julie looked up and smiled at her friends. Susan had that determined look Julie recognized so well.
“Grab that table in the corner. I’ll bring coffee over for you.”
She grabbed some heavy ceramic mugs, poured them both black coffee, and went to sit for a few minutes.
“So, I heard you were seen in town with Reed yesterday.” Susan nailed her with a tell-me-everything look.
“And when I went to the fish market, they said you’d been in there with some strange guy yesterday,” Tally added.
“He’s not that strange…” A smile tugged at the corners of Julie’s mouth.
“Spill it.” Susan wasn’t taking any dodging of questions.
“Yes, I took him to Island Closet and the Wishing Shop. He needed some more casual beach clothes. We cooked dinner at my place and he did his laundry there.”
“And?” Tally raised one eyebrow.
“And… things were great until they weren’t.” Julie sighed. “We had a good time. Then I found out he was married.”
“He’s married?” Susan put down her coffee mug with a clatter.
“No, he was married. His wife… passed away.” She was never going to know the right term to use for dead, ever again.
“That’s too bad. Recently?” Tally’s face was etched in knowing empathy.
“A while ago. A few years, I think. He’s obviously still haunted by it. Anyway, the discussion put a damper on the rest of the evening. He didn’t say much when I dropped him off at the inn. Didn’t say anything about seeing me again. I didn’t want to be the one to ask him to do something after he… cooled off towards me. I’ll wait and see if he asks me out again.”
“He’d be a fool not to.” Susan laced her hands around her mug.
“He’s fun to be around. Awkward sometimes, but honestly, I don’t know if that’s him or that’s me. It’s not like I’m an experienced dater or anything.”
“Well, not since Troy.” She sighed. Troy. He’d been one big long two-year mistake. He’d dated her and hinted at commitment and marriage. Then, just when she’d started to trust he really did want to be with her, he’d left with barely a comment as to why. She never should have let her guard down with him. She knew better.
“It’s been, what? Five years?”
“Susan, give the girl a break. If she doesn’t want to date, then she doesn’t have to.” Tally sent Julie a questioning glance.
“It’s not that I don’t want to date—and Susan, you’re one to talk—but I rarely have any free time. And we all saw what a lousy choice I made last time. I think since Reed is so… fragile right now. I can call a guy fragile can’t I?” Julie sighed. “I’m better off just taking a wide berth around him, right?”
“If you never want to know love. True love.” Tally bent her head and stared into her coffee cup, obviously lost in long ago memories.
Not that the three of them ever talked about Tally’s past. Julie knew the gist of it, but none of the specifics. She just knew Tally had great loss in her life, too. They all had.
Susan set her coffee mug on the table and looked directly at Julie. “I’m not a great judge of character, as evidenced by my ex-husband. But I wouldn’t have traded a minute I had with Jamie’s dad, not even to avoid all the pain when he died. Love like that is rare. But if you don’t ever take a risk, you’ll never get a chance at a really good, strong love. The soul mate kind of love. That kind of love… that’s something you don’t want to miss out on.”
“Do you really believe in soul mates?” Julie cocked her head.
“I do.” Tally’s low voice drifted across the table like a rose petal in the wind, a hint of wistful sadness wrapped around her words.
* * *
Julie’s friends left The Sweet Shoppe, and she went back to waiting on customers. She didn’t know what she was going to do about Reed. Probably nothing, because he’d shown no interest in asking her out again.
“Julie. There you are. How great to see you.”
Julie spun around at the sound of that voice. “Ah, Camille.”
What the heck was Camille Montgomery doing here? Her family lived in a big, rambling house directly on the beach. Well, not exactly lived in it. More like popped in for a bit here and there. In the winter to escape the cold. In the summer for a vacation. Camille actually lived up north in some small town in Mississippi. Julie wasn’t usually so judgmental, but Camille rubbed her the wrong way.
“Mama asked me to come down and meet with the interior decorator. We’re redoing some of the furnishings. The beach house was just beginning to look so tired. We want it all spruced up. Mama is throwing a big party next weekend. You know, before the ghastly summer tourists swarm the island.”
Julie was pretty sure Camille’s tired furnishings were better than anything she had in her own cottage. And while Camille wasn’t exactly a tourist, she wasn’t exactly a regular resident either. She’d
met Camille years ago when Julie had worked at Tally’s. Camille had come in regularly, carefree and laughing, always with a bevy of other girls her age. Not a one of them had any responsibility for anything but perfecting their suntans. They’d treated her like their personal servant, without a please or thank you ever given.
“Julie? Are you listening?” Camille’s voice pulled her from her memories. “Mama said I should talk to you and see if you were capable of handling some of the appetizers and desserts for her party. I told her I just wasn’t sure if your little shop was up to it. I know we could always get someone from Sarasota to handle it. We have a caterer doing the dinner, but their appetizer and dessert offerings—I just got back from sampling them—well, they aren’t up to Mama’s standards. But then she suggested you…”
Yep, there was the Camille that got on her nerves.
“I’d be happy to talk to you or her about what you’d need.” Julie wasn’t foolish enough to turn away good business, even if it meant working with Camille.
“Are you sure? Mama is having over a hundred people. She’s booked rooms at the inn as well as using our guest house and main house. And it is next weekend.”
Susan hadn’t said anything about that. Oh, maybe that was the fully booked weekend Jamie had mentioned.
“When is it exactly?”
“Next Saturday. Are you sure you can handle it? It will be a pretty big order for you, I bet.”
Julie gritted her teeth. “I’ve handled baking for events as large as four hundred people, Camille.”
“Oh, well then. I guess you’ll do.”
Sometimes, Julie wondered if Camille was for real.
“I have to run to the Sarasota airport and get Delbert. Delbert Hamilton of the Hamilton Hotels, you’ve heard of them, of course?”
It was more a statement than a question.
“We’ve been dating for quite a while. He’s taking a few days off and I want to show him around. He’ll be back again for Mama’s party, of course.”