by Grace Palmer
Liza frowned. “There is?”
She didn’t know Willow Beach incredibly well yet, but she’d pictured it as the kind of cheery, sparkly town you’d see in a made-for-TV movie. Everyone was nice and friendly, and you’d never imagine it could be a place with much criminal activity or violence.
Perhaps, though, she’d been wrong.
“Oh yeah,” Alma continued, leaning forward. “Last week, the sheriff got a call that the mill where Katie at Good Stuff Cupcakes gets her sugar isn’t certified organic, so her organic lemon bars are anything but. Very juicy stuff.”
Alma rolled her eyes, and Liza cackled. “For a second, I thought you were serious about the seedy underbelly.”
“I wish. It would make my job a lot more interesting.” She sipped her lemon water. “I hear about relationship problems all day long, but just the mundane stuff. Mostly money, honestly. Everything around here is dull.”
Despite Alma’s claims, she had more than enough stories to keep Liza entertained for over an hour. Once, a pastor from the next town over dropped by the bar for the explicit purpose of praying for Alma’s soul. In his opinion, anyone who made alcohol their living was in desperate need of salvation.
“He nearly fell off his stool when I told him my brother is the pastor of a Baptist church back home in Texas,” she laughed.
Alma also talked about Georgia’s past, though that conversation sounded less gossipy and much more like a friend being worried about her friend.
“She is happy with Joel—I can see that—but I’m still worried about her. She and Richard were together for a long time, and I don’t think you get over something like that overnight. I keep expecting to get a middle-of-the-night sobbing phone call from her, but it hasn’t happened yet. I haven’t seen her cry at all.”
“It took me almost a year to accept that I was divorced,” Liza said.
Alma didn’t yet know about Liza’s relationship history, so she filled her in briefly.
“Twenty years.” Alma whistled when she was done and shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”
Liza shrugged. “It’s okay, really. Even if I didn’t expect it, I wasn’t entirely surprised. It made sense when I really thought about it. Neither of us had been happy for a while. Maybe Georgia’s situation is like that, too.”
Alma looked unsure. “I don’t think so. From what everyone could see, she and Richard were a good pair. She said later that he’d been a bit more detached, but she didn’t see it coming at all, so it’s hard to imagine she’s moved on already. Part of me thinks it may be because all of her kids are in relationships now. It has to be hard to have your relationship fall apart at the same time everyone around you is finding love.”
The two women each sipped at their drinks. Liza felt the beginnings of a pleasant buzz circulating through her system.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Alma added. “I’m so happy for her and Joel, and I want them to be happy. They make a good couple.”
“You just want what’s best for your friend.”
“Exactly. I want her to process the pain from her past before she forges ahead. I don’t want this coming back to bite her.”
As dinnertime approached, Alma needed to get back to the bar and the kitchen. The saloon’s evening staff were showing up for their shifts and patrons were coming in after work. Alma thanked Liza for a good conversation, made her promise she’d come in so they could chat again sometime, and then slid out of the booth and walked back to the bar.
Alma walked down to the far end of the bar, where two men had just come in and sat down. Liza followed her with her eyes—and when she saw who’d entered, her heart jumped into her throat.
She recognized Stella’s fiancé, Sam, when he turned his head slightly to talk to Alma, but the other man didn’t need to turn around for Stella to know who he was. From the back, especially—ignoring the salt and pepper hair—Benjamin Boyd looked exactly the same as he had all those years ago. Same broad shoulders, same tanned neck, same spiraled cowlick on the crown of his head.
Alma said something to Sam and pointed back at the booth where Liza was still sitting, and both men turned around to look in her direction.
Liza jolted, turning her eyes away, even though everyone had seen her looking. Then, realizing how ridiculous she looked, she turned back and smiled, locking her eyes on Sam and avoiding Ben entirely.
Clearly, Liza shouldn’t be giving Georgia Baldwin any advice. She had some unresolved issues of her own to deal with.
Sam smiled and waved her over, and Liza didn’t see a way she could refuse him without looking rude. She was sitting in a booth alone. She could tell him she had other plans and needed to leave, but regardless, she’d have to go over there to tell him to his face. Unless she wanted to run from the building without explanation, she had no other choice.
Liza walked towards the bar with a weight sitting heavy in her stomach.
“It’s nice to see you again, Liza,” Sam said. “Alma said you made a fun drinking partner. Would you care to sit with us? Ben here isn’t nearly as lively as I hoped he’d be.”
“Perhaps I should leave then. I don’t think Liza’s opinion of me will be any more favorable.” Ben said the words cheerily enough and nudged Sam’s shoulder playfully, but there was something in his tone that made everyone, including Liza, look at him.
His beer was only a quarter gone, but he was getting ready to get up and walk out. It would look suspicious if he did, and Liza didn’t want to explain anything to anyone. She didn’t believe Alma would share her business with anyone, but still, Liza didn’t want to be just another piece of gossip Alma had gathered while working the bar.
“Oh, you two know each other?” Sam asked.
Liza nodded. “We’re old friends, and he’s being silly. I’d be the first to tell anyone who asked that Ben knows how to have fun. How long the fun lasts is up for debate, but—”
She regretted the words immediately, and based on the hush that fell over the group, she knew she’d made them uncomfortable, too.
Thankfully, Ben forged ahead through the tension. “Well, tonight the fun will last at least until after dinner. Order something. It’s on me. You too, Sam.”
Sam and Liza both tried to refuse, but Ben insisted, and Liza felt guilty leaving after she’d behaved so poorly and Ben had responded so graciously. So, she finally relented and sat down.
A group of two young couples sitting against the back wall got up and turned the jukebox on. They chose an aggressively loud disco song, and Alma wrinkled her nose.
She grumbled about unplugging the jukebox when she dropped off their menus, and Liza had to agree. She’d never been a fan of disco.
Liza decided on the biscuits and gravy before she was even halfway through the first page. Breakfast for dinner had always been one of her favorites. Ben ordered the chicken-fried steak, and Sam was about to place his order when his phone rang.
“Excuse me,” he said, stepping away from the bar and taking the call. Less than a minute later, he came back, closed his menu, and slid his wallet into his back pocket. “I’m sorry to dash, but someone accidentally threw the wrong set of car keys into the overnight drop-off box and is now trapped in the parking lot. I have to go rescue them.”
“We can wait for you,” Ben offered.
“No, no. Go ahead and eat. Rain check.” Sam gave them a three-fingered wave and hurried out the door.
Had this been planned? Liza wondered.
No, certainly not. It would be a very elaborate plan if so. And why would Sam participate in it even if Ben had wanted to get Liza alone?
This was probably just as uncomfortable for Ben as it was for Liza. If anything, Liza should cancel her order and leave now, too. It would be the best option for both of them.
“Well, just the two of us.” Ben neatly stacked their menus and folded his hands in front of him on the bar top as the disco song began playing for a second time.
Liza studied him for a minute, trying to gauge his emotions
. It proved to be a grave mistake.
From the first time she’d met Ben, Liza had never been able to read him. No matter the situation, Ben looked calm. Unlike Liza, he had an amazing poker face. It was part of the reason Liza hadn’t seen their breakup coming.
Now, on top of feeling uncomfortable having dinner with Ben for the second time in less than a week, Liza was also dwelling on the past and watching his jaw clench and unclench, wondering if it was because of her. She couldn’t see any signs of discomfort on his face, but she knew better than anyone that that didn’t mean he wasn’t uncomfortable. So, what should she do?
I don’t want to talk to you again.
That was one of the last things Liza had said to Ben. She’d made her feelings pretty clear. Should she reiterate those feelings and leave, embarrassing Ben in front of Alma? Or should she stay calm and tough it out the way Ben seemed intent on doing?
Suddenly, Ben leaned towards her slightly, talking quietly out of the side of his mouth. “I didn’t plan this.”
“What?”
“This,” he said, gesturing to the two of them and the bar. “Stacy wants a vintage car to take her and Jonathan from the wedding to the reception, and Georgia told me Sam would be my best bet. I met with him this afternoon, and he invited me for a drink. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Stacy asked me to come talk to the alcohol distributer since she got stuck at work,” Liza explained. “I didn’t know you’d be here, either.”
Ben nodded and pressed his lips together. “Good. I just wanted you to know I heard you when you said you don’t want to talk to me. Though, I do hope we can endure each other’s presence enough to get through one meal. I’m still paying.”
Was he angry with her? Again, Liza couldn’t tell. It would make sense considering the way she’d treated him. He’d helped her with a plumbing issue in the middle of the night, and Liza had thanked him by not thanking him and then telling him to stay away from her. On some level, she felt he deserved it, but on another level, she was a grown adult who should be able to rise above thirty-year-old drama.
“I can pay for my own food.”
“I know you can, but I already offered, and I don’t want Alma to think I’m a flake.”
That was a good reminder. This was about appearances. Neither of them wanted to be here, but there was no need to cause any drama before Stacy’s wedding. Liza was the caterer, Ben was the brother of honor, and Liza wouldn’t do anything to cause tension on Stacy’s special day. She was being paid to make her life easier, not more awkward.
“Did the plumber fix the leak?” Ben asked, moving into the casual conversation portion of the meal.
“He wasn’t very happy to have an unscheduled repair first thing in the morning, but he got it taken care of, yes. The place smells a little musty still, but the leak is fixed and there wasn’t enough water to cause any serious damage, so I think it’s all fine.”
“Good. That’s great.”
Liza chewed on the inside of her cheek and kicked the toes of her shoes against the wood-paneled bar front. Finally, after a long silence, she burst out, “Thank you. For helping that night, I mean. I’m sorry if I was harsh.”
Ben turned towards her, mouth pulled up in a smirk. “How much did that hurt?”
“What?”
“Apologizing.”
Liza narrowed her eyes at him, regretting her momentary weakness.
He chuckled. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear those words from you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to them.”
For the third straight time, the disco song started playing again, and Alma slammed her hand on the far end of the bar and shouted at the young couples responsible, “Enough with the disco!”
The boys laughed, but their girlfriends looked embarrassed.
Alma slid a quarter to Ben. “Please play something else. I can’t take this song again.”
His elbow brushed against Liza’s arm as he got up, and Liza felt a warmth emanating from him. He moved with grace and ease, the same way he handled everything in his life. When Liza was frozen with indecision, worried about what to say or do, Ben always had a comeback or a retort. He wasn’t awkward or uncertain of himself.
That was probably a side effect of being the dumper rather than the dumpee, Liza figured. He had the upper hand, so why should he be awkward? Liza was the one who had to prove her life hadn’t been miserable without him. She was the one who had to prove she was fine and didn’t need him.
Ben didn’t need to prove anything.
He walked over to the jukebox and leaned against it, one of his hands drumming the side as he selected a song.
Liza recognized the piano intro immediately, and she spun towards Ben just as he turned away from the jukebox. If there was any chance he’d chosen the song by random, it dissolved as soon as Liza saw his face.
He remembered what the song meant to them, and he’d selected it on purpose.
“Chicago?” Alma gave him a thumbs-up. “Amazing choice.”
Ben sat down next to Liza, avoiding her eyes for the first time. “Thanks. ‘You’re the Inspiration’ is one of my all-time favorites.”
As the first verse gave way to the chorus, déjà vu washed over Liza. Alma was tapping her fingers and Ben was bobbing his head to the beat.
But Liza was busy wishing she could be literally anywhere else.
11
Thirty Years Earlier
“You don’t have to stick around,” Liza said as she passed the table where Ben had been sitting all night. “As soon as this group finishes dinner, I’m going to close and leave.”
“I’ll wait.”
“I’m going to go straight home and go to sleep. I open at the photo lab first thing.”
Ben nodded. “I’ll wait.”
She sighed like she was exasperated, but Ben’s attention thrilled her. He doted on her, and everyone noticed. The other waitresses complained that their boyfriends never stuck around until closing just to walk them to their car. Liza reminded them Ben wasn’t her boyfriend, but then…what was he?
He came into the restaurant and spent an ungodly amount of money on food and drinks he didn’t want just so her manager would let him keep his table in her section. He slipped Liza notes whenever she passed, telling her how pretty she looked, asking for the next day she had off so they could make plans, and occasionally requesting she change the channel of the television over the bar so he could watch the game he wanted to watch.
It had been almost a month of this, yet Ben hadn’t made a serious move. He hadn’t asked Liza to be his girlfriend or even tried to kiss her. Liza felt certain he liked her, but there was enough room for doubt that she was becoming uncomfortable.
When the last table left, the back-of-the-house staff had already cleared the kitchen for the night, so they left. Liza and Ben were alone in the restaurant.
He wiped down chairs and put them on top of the tables while Liza wiped down glasses behind the bar.
“They must really trust you to let you close up on your own.”
“Or really hate me,” Liza laughed. “No one likes to close. It’s boring and kind of creepy. The quiet is unnerving after so many hours of noise.”
“We can fix that.” Ben flipped a chair onto a table and then jogged towards the rarely used jukebox in the corner, digging in his pocket for a quarter as he went.
“I don’t think that thing even works. No one ever uses it.” The previous owners had more of a diner vibe going with the place, but the current owners had turned it into a bar and grill and the place now attracted clientele that were much more interested in hearing the score of the game than music.
Ben dropped his quarter in and the machine lit up, the records inside shuffling. He looked over his shoulder at Liza, eyebrows wagging, and beamed.
He was beautiful. Handsome and manly, but beautiful, too. Liza had been attracted to him from the first time she’d really taken the time to look at him, but that att
raction had grown into something more, something deeper. Like a clear mountain stream that had begun as a trickle of water, slowly eating away at the stone, washing it away until you couldn’t imagine the mountain without a stream.
Liza couldn’t imagine her life without Ben.
When had that happened?
Before Liza could panic about the knot of feelings in her chest, slow piano music started. Ben spun around as the classic eighties chords played, an air guitar in his hands, and Liza laughed.
“No, stop,” she said, laughing in anticipation of whatever he was about to do. He had a dangerously mischievous look in his eyes, and if there was one thing Liza knew about Ben, it was that there was no way to know what he had planned.
The music softened, and Ben began lip syncing along with the song, interpretive dancing his way towards her with overwrought facial expressions as the song crooned on about true love and life’s meaning and inspiration.
Ben circled around Liza, dragging his hand across her shoulders like they were in a movie musical. Liza couldn’t stop herself from laughing, but she also had an army of butterflies setting up camp in her stomach.
“Now I know that I need you here with me. From tonight until the end of time.” His singing voice was off-pitch and shaky, but he performed with ridiculous passion, and Liza didn’t resist when he finally pulled her into his arms.
Ben spun Liza around the empty restaurant, dancing with the same grace and style he walked through life with. As the song began to fade, the singer’s voice growing softer as he repeated, again and again, what it meant to love somebody, Liza wondered if love was what she felt for Ben.
Outside of the restaurant, they’d gone on a drive together and met up with Dora and her boyfriend for a movie, but what else did Liza really know about him?
Immediately, a thousand things sprang into her mind.
Ben was kind and laid-back. He didn’t take life too seriously, but in the conversations they’d had while closing, Liza knew Ben had plans. He had dreams of traveling the world and serving humanity in some way. He was confident without being mean. Ben didn’t need to put anyone down to feel good about himself, and he was the funniest person she knew without ever making fun of anybody.