by Olivia Miles
“Don’t look now, but I think Eddie Boyd is trying to get your attention.” Bridget wiggled her eyebrows as Margo felt herself pale in panic.
He’d said he was coming, and okay, fine, she did wear her best sweater in case he actually did show up, but did she really want to talk to him again?
Yes, she decided, looking subtly over her shoulder to where he stood. She did want to talk to Eddie. She was confronting the truth in her relationships at long last, and she’d like some answers from him once and for all.
***
“Hey,” he said, giving her a slow smile as she walked over to him.
Margo took a measured breath, counted to three. “Hey.” There. That wasn’t so bad.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.” His eyes were clear in the afternoon sunlight, his green sweater bringing out the flecks of color around his pupils. She tried to look away and found it difficult. When Eddie stared at her like that, she’d always found it hard to stay angry at him for long.
“Are you kidding? Fall Fest was one of the highlights of my childhood, I’ll have you know.”
“And here I thought it was the Christmas Carnival,” he bantered.
“Oh.” He had a point, and the realization that he remembered this, and that Ash probably couldn’t tell the difference between the two events, even after ten years of marriage, made her uneasy.
“Well, I don’t like to pick favorites,” she replied. “I love everything about Oyster Bay.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
He really did know her too well. “No.”
There was more she could say—ask him what he was doing back, why he was here, why he had returned now and not then, when he said he would. Instead she looked around the festival, wondering if their conversation was about to be cut short. “You here alone?”
He nodded. “But I think my aunt and uncle are here somewhere.”
“I’m here with my sisters,” she informed him, realizing by the lack of surprise in his eyes how lame that sounded. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here with the woman from last night.”
His brow creased for a long moment until his eyes burst open in surprise. “Sylvia?”
Was that her name? Margo felt a sense of dread. Of course he was attached. Did she honestly think she was the only one of them who had moved on?
“Sylvia’s my partner,” he said, starting to laugh. “She has three unruly sons and a husband who left her for a skinnier version. I took her out last night because it was her birthday, and she was breaking her diet for your uncle’s chowder.”
“Oh,” Margo said, feeling far more pleased than she should. She should empathize with Sylvia, feel sorry for her even. “That was really nice of you to do that.”
Very adult of him, she thought, frowning a little.
“Come on,” he said, jutting his chin to the food stands which were lined up on the west side of the green. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Suddenly it all became too clear that Eddie was, in fact, single. And this fact was almost more dangerous than him being back in town. Almost more dangerous that the fact every time he looked at her, her heart sped up. She hesitated, wondering what she was agreeing to, even dared to think of Ash for a fleeting moment. But then she remembered Candy. And then she remembered Abby, and her motto. “Why not?” she said, with a smile.
They stopped at Hollow Tree Farm’s food truck and ordered two ciders, one hard, one fresh pressed.
Before Margo could say anything, Eddie said, “I don’t drink.”
Margo sipped her cider. Back when she knew Eddie, they were both too young to drink. Had something happened in the time since he’d left? It saddened her. All this time she’d oscillated between worry and anger. Was Eddie okay? And if he was, why hadn’t he ever contacted her again?
“You don’t need to explain,” she said.
“It’s okay,” he said easily. “Do you know why I was at Serenity Hills the other day?”
Margo’s cheeks flared when she thought of the way she’d run from him. She opened her mouth to explain, but it was no use. His eyes glinted with mischief now.
“I saw you run away from me,” he said, giving her a long look.
“Well, it was either that or shove my ninety-year-old grandmother into the broom closet,” she said, but she was laughing now. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised to see you there.”
“I was visiting my dad,” he said, and Margo did a poor job of hiding the shock in her expression. “I know. It’s…I don’t know what it is,” he finally said, burying his face in his plastic cup.
“I didn’t know you were in touch with him,” she said, and then realized how presumptuous that was. It had been more than a decade since she’d spoken to Eddie. A lot could change in that amount of time.
She glanced at him, taking in the man beside her, so different from that boy he’d once been, she realized. Yep, a lot could change.
“We got back in touch a long time ago,” he said, and then faded into silence again. Margo waited for him to say more, but he had a distant look in his eyes. “Then we lost touch again. I didn’t hear from him again until last year. That’s why I moved back to Oyster Bay.”
“I don’t follow,” Margo said. Last she knew, Eddie had been sent to Oyster Bay to live with his father’s brother and his wife because his dad was “in trouble.” Whatever the trouble was, Eddie had never let on and Margo hadn’t pushed. She’d heard rumors, of course. Oyster Bay was full of gossip. Some people said Eddie’s dad was in prison. Others said he was a gambler, that he’d run off to Vegas and was dead broke. Margo hadn’t cared what they said about Eddie’s father, and she still didn’t. She’d only cared about Eddie…and, she realized with a sinking feeling, she still did.
“My dad has sclerosis of the liver,” Eddie said frankly. He stopped walking, looking her square in the eye. “His brother’s the only family he’s got other than me, and my uncle took him in, set him up in Serenity Hills. Tracked me down and asked me to come back.”
“I’m sorry, Eddie.” She wanted to reach out, set a hand on his arm, hold his hand. Hug him. But that wasn’t her place anymore. Once, it had been, when the teasing at school got bad, and the hurt in his eyes was deep. She’d smile and lead him away, and they’d make their own good time, and leave all that other stuff behind them. When he wanted to open up, she listened, but she never pried. There were parts of his story she knew: how his mother had left him earlier than he could even remember her, that his father had a temper, and they always ran out of money, and that he’d been shipped to Oyster Bay against his will, but that really, his uncle and aunt and even Nick were pretty great. Deep down, Margo had always sensed that Eddie was a lot happier to be in Oyster Bay than he’d ever admit. Maybe even to himself.
“It’s difficult to accept that this is how it ends,” he said. “All this time, I guess a part of me hated him, but another part of me longed for something that wasn’t there, and…hoped that someday it could be found.”
Margo dropped onto a bench, and Eddie sat beside her. “But you were in touch with him before, you said.”
“After I left Oyster Bay,” Eddie said. “That’s when things took a turn for the worse.”
Margo looked at him sharply. “Worse? How?”
“I know the detention center was supposed to straighten me out, but…” Eddie shrugged. “I lasted two weeks before they called my uncle. He said he would spare my aunt by not telling her, said it would break her heart. Instead, my uncle called my dad. Ray came, picked me up, and that was that.” He gave her a wry look.
“What happened?” Margo asked.
“Oh, it was fine at first,” Eddie said. “We went home, I got a job bagging groceries to help pay the rent. But then the drinking started and the poker games, and one night he was feeling lucky, went all in.”
Margo didn’t like where this story was headed. “Let me guess.”
“Lost it all. Every dime he’d saved and I’d worked for. Man, h
e went on a bender that time. I didn’t see him for three days, and when I did…let’s just say he wasn’t happy to see me. Said I was bad luck, that I wasn’t earning my keep. I left that night.”
“Why didn’t you come back to Oyster Bay?” Why, why? She would have taken him in; they could have found a way.
“My uncle wouldn’t have me. My chances were up.”
And me? she wanted to ask. It was right there, on the tip of her tongue. But the sadness in his eyes stopped her.
“Life was hard for a while. I fell in with a bad crowd, started drinking… I guess you could say that I gave up on myself for a while.”
“I hadn’t given up on you,” Margo said quietly.
He held her gaze. “I wasn’t coming back to Oyster Bay, Margo. I wasn’t going anywhere.”
She understood, even if she wished it could have been different. “You could have called me. Maybe it would have helped.”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.”
“No,” she said eventually, “I suppose not.”
“I couldn’t bring you into that mess,” Eddie said. “I wanted to…but I couldn’t. Does that make sense?”
She could only nod. In a way it did. Of course it did.
“It all worked out in time. I stopped drinking, got my GED, eventually joined the force. Not to say I didn’t struggle for a while,” he added. He’d finished his cup and he stood to toss it in the trash can. “Well, now you know.”
Yes, she thought, feeling no better than she had yesterday, and maybe worse. Now she knew.
***
Eddie didn’t know why he was telling her all of this. To defend himself? Apologize? Maybe a little of both.
“I guess it’s funny in a way,” he mused. “You never know how life will end up.”
And he still didn’t, he thought, thinking of Mick’s invitation. It had been weighing on him ever since Friday, settling heavily on his shoulders, and only disappearing for fleeting moments before returning with full force. There was no one he could tell: his uncle and aunt would encourage him to stay, to be with his father. And Sylvia would probably hit the vending machines hard and then blame him for it later. He was her partner. How could he forsake her?
But then Mick was his partner, too. His friend. The first real friend he’d ever had, really.
Other than Margo.
“No, you never can tell how things will end,” Margo said, her voice a little sad. “You can only react to the moment, I suppose. And have faith.”
Something in the way she said that last sentence made him question if she had any left. “Well, everything turned out okay in the end,” he said, but from the emptiness in Margo’s eyes he wasn’t so sure about that.
“I wish I could say that was true,” Margo replied, looking down at her drink. “I caught my husband with another woman. Well, a girl really. Barely legal,” she mumbled, taking a long sip of her drink. “Her name is Candy. She wears pearls. And her hair bounces.”
He struggled not to show his surprise.
“What a bastard,” he finally said. Margo was sweet and smart and still so beautiful. What man would take that granted?
He knew he never did.
“Well, now you know why I’m back in Oyster Bay,” she said, sighing. “Guess you could say I’m sort of at a crossroads.”
“Are you thinking of staying?” There was hope in his voice that didn’t have any business being there, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted her to stay. Oyster Bay didn’t feel right without her. She’d been his friend, his best friend, and so much more than that. She’d been the bright spot in a dark time. He’d always love her for that.
“I don’t know,” she said, searching his face. “Coming here…nothing’s the same.”
“Well, you’re not the same,” he pointed out.
She considered this for a moment. “True. I’m bitter now. Hard.” She winked at him, her mouth twisting into a little smile, and he laughed.
“You’ve grown up. Had experiences that shaped you. You’ll get through this,” he said.
“I hope you’re right,” she said. She didn’t look convinced.
“Honey, I’m always right,” he joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
She blinked, but her smile shone in her eyes. “Oh yeah? Name one time.”
He hesitated, thinking back on the most recent time. “What I told you that last day, before I left for New Jersey. Do you remember what I said?”
Her smile slipped. She pulled on her ponytail, twirling it in her hands, avoiding eye contact. “Oh. I…”
But he wasn’t going to let this go. Not now, not when they were sitting side by side. When he didn’t know if they would ever sit like this again.
“I told you that we’d be together again.” He’d said other things, too. That he loved her. That he always would. “Seems to me by the way we’re sitting here talking that I was right about that.”
“Eddie.” Margo’s voice caught, and her eyes had welled with tears.
“It’s okay,” he said. “We don’t need to talk about that time anymore. We’re here now. Older and wiser.”
“Yes,” she said, lowering her eyes. “We’re here now.”
Who would have ever thought that? It wasn’t until years after he’d left Oyster Bay that he reached out to his aunt and uncle again, as part of his steps, finding forgiveness. By then Margo was married; his aunt had told him, regret in her voice. His heart had sunk then, even though he figured a girl like Margo would be swooped up and that he was lucky to have ever had her as his at all. And yet here he was. And here she was. So close that he could reach out, touch her cheek, brush away the tear that had started to fall. He inched forward, wanting to hold her, kiss her, maybe just wrap an arm around her. “Margo…”
She pulled back, stood quickly, alarm in her eyes. “I should go find Bridget and Abby. I promised I’d be there for the pie judging contest.”
“Margo,” Eddie started, but she was backing up.
“I should go,” she said, and he said nothing more, but watched from the bench as she became smaller and smaller in the distance, the way she had that terrible, awful day all those years ago.
Chapter Ten
The light on Bridget’s work phone was flashing when she walked into her office, thermos of coffee in hand, at quarter past nine on Monday morning.
Maybe it was the string of bad luck she seemed to have lately, but her very first thought was that this couldn’t be good.
Her mind flitted through a mental rolodex of possibilities as she dropped her bag on one of the two visitor chairs that faced her desk and hung her coat on the hook behind her door. The lone plant she kept in the corner was sagging, probably from lack of light, considering she was stuck in a back, windowless room. The better offices were reserved for the three other agents in the firm, the ones who were able to move product on a regular basis.
She sank into her chair, feeling that familiar weight of frustration and failure that she just couldn’t seem to shake, and stared at the blinking light. It could be Serenity Hills, calling to say that Mimi had let Pudgie roam the hallways. Again. Or it could be something worse this time…
It could be the school nurse, calling to say that Emma was running a fever, but considering that Bridget had just come from dropping her off at Oyster Bay Elementary, this didn’t seem very likely.
It could be Abby, calling to say she’d lost yet another job. Or Ryan, wanting to talk. And Ryan wanting to talk was never a good thing.
It could be a bill collector. She was never behind on rent or bills, but she’d never gotten over the time when she was still married and Ryan failed to send in the payment for the electric bill, using the money instead to fund some new appliances at the pub, and one day, the lights had all gone out in the middle of winter. The heat, too. That was years ago, but it still haunted her.
Years ago, she told herself firmly. She was no longer financially bound to Ryan. Their past could no longer hurt
her.
With that, she picked up the receiver and pressed a button to retrieve her messages. Maybe she’d be pleasantly surprised, and if not, well, she was certainly prepared.
But it wasn’t Mimi, or Emma’s school, or Ryan or Abby who needed her attention right now. The message was from Ian Fowler. He was ready to make an offer.
Bridget dropped the phone onto the receiver as if it were burning her hand. She pushed back her chair, creating distance between herself and the phone and everything that Ian had said in his message. Her heart was pounding as she stared at her half-dead plant in the corner.
She stood up. Coffee. She needed coffee. Then she remembered the thermos on her desk.
Fresh coffee then. Better yet: fresh air.
She’d treat herself, walk down to Angie’s Café. After all, she could afford it now that Ian Fowler was buying the house and she was getting a nice commission. Normally she pursed her lips at the people she saw clutching paper cups from the café, thinking how far that extra five bucks a day could go over time—enough to pay for a half-hour piano lesson each week for Emma.
Now she could afford those lessons. And she was meeting the young couple in search of “clean lines” later this afternoon. With two sales under her belt this quarter and the savings she’d stashed away since the divorce, she might just be on her path toward getting a house of her own, soon.
The thought should over joy her, make her do a little happy dance right here in her office, but instead she felt deflated, heavy hearted, and on the brink of tears. Even the thought of telling Emma she could have the piano lessons did little to settle the queasy feeling in her stomach. After all, what good were lessons without a piano to play them on? The house would be sold, and the piano would too.
Her father’s piano, she thought, her vision blurring. The one he used to play as a child, and later, as a father, especially on rainy summer nights when the girls were all stuck in the house and bored. He had a song for each of them. They didn’t have names—he made them up.