Just South of Sunrise

by Grace Palmer

  “He’s the brother of the client I’m catering for, Stacy Boyd. He’s the bro of honor in the wedding, and he’s staying at the inn in town to help iron out wedding details. He came over to the house and helped turn off the water and clean up the mess. Without him, I’d be underwater and homeless.”

  “Well, that was generous of him. I don’t know many strangers who would be so willing to help someone in the middle of the night like that. He must be a saint.”

  “Well…” Liza had been debating telling Angela about Ben for a couple days now. Unlike Dora, Angela could be an objective third party. She didn’t know Ben. She knew nothing about Liza and Ben’s history. Plus, Angela was the one who’d sent Liza to Willow Beach to focus on her future. Those three things converged to make her the person most likely to give Liza an honest, sincere answer of how to move forward with Ben.

  “Okay, I’m sensing there’s a lot more to this story,” Angela said. “You have to tell me. It’s early, and the only thing that energizes me more than caffeine is juicy gossip.”

  “It’s not juicy gossip, but there is more to the story. You see, I actually know Ben. We used to…date.”

  Angela screamed on the other end of the phone, forcing Liza to pull it away from her ear.

  “What? I had no idea. How crazy is that?”

  “Crazy,” Liza agreed. “It was a very long time ago, and I tried to keep my distance, but he seems interested in reconnecting, and…I don’t know. I’m not so sure it’s a terrible idea.”

  “Of course, it’s not,” Angela said. “I sent you to Willow Beach to relax and start fresh, and there is no better way to start fresh than with a handsome man.”

  “How do you know he’s handsome? What if he’s hideous? Does that change your opinion?”

  “I doubt you’d ever date anyone who is hideous. Not to say you’re shallow, but birds of a feather usually flock together where things like this are concerned, and you’re a total catch, Aunt Liza.”

  “Okay, but dating an ex isn’t exactly a fresh start, is it?”

  “It can be!” Angela argued. “It totally can be. Especially after thirty years. You are both different people than you were back then. It’s totally different.”

  Liza frowned. “How do you know it’s been thirty years?”

  There was a brief pause. “I don’t know. I just assumed. You and Uncle Cliff were together for twenty years, and I’m twenty-six, and I don’t remember seeing any other men in our old pictures. I assumed you dated him before I was born.”

  “I was younger than you when we dated,” Liza said. “I can’t believe it has been that long. Especially since he is so similar. Still so charming and thoughtful, and still perfectly capable of getting under my skin and driving me bananas.”

  Angela laughed. “Aunt Liza, you’re into this guy. I can totally hear it in your voice. You like him!”

  Liza smiled and flipped a pancake in the skillet. “You don’t think I’m being foolish? What if this is just a rebound after my divorce?”

  “What if it is? Does it matter? You deserve to be happy, and if this guy makes you happy, you should go for it. Fate has spoken.”

  Fate. There was that word again.

  Could this be fate?

  Liza had given up hope that the universe had a grander plan for her life, but suddenly, she wondered if she wasn’t living a real-life romance novel. Just like the book the book club was reading, she and Ben were crossing paths decades later, after Liza’s divorce and when she was on a quest to start over.

  “He has a daughter. She goes to UMass Boston. Her name is Heather Boyd.”

  Angela hummed in thought. “Maybe I’ve heard that name. I’m not sure. I’ll have to keep an eye out for her. Especially since we might be cousins-in-law some day!”

  “I don’t think that’s a thing,” Liza laughed. “And you’re definitely getting ahead of yourself. “We’ve only gone on one date.”

  “Do you have a second one planned?”

  Liza’s cheeks flushed. “He’ll be here in fifteen minutes. We’re having breakfast.”

  Angela squealed. “Uncle Ben and Aunt Liza. I like the sound of that.”

  Liza laughed and bid Angela farewell. She was glad to have her niece’s blessing, but she didn’t need that thought rolling around in her head when Ben arrived. Yes, she was excited. Yes, she wanted to see him. Yes, she liked spending time with him.

  But she wasn’t going to get ahead of herself.

  Liza had already made the mistake of planning for a future with Ben, and she wasn’t going to let herself be hurt so easily a second time. If they were going to try this again, she was going to guard her heart.

  Ben swore he was coming over to analyze their date the night before, but after five minutes of extolling their natural chemistry and how much fun they had together, Ben seemed content to schedule a second date.

  Liza was content, too.

  Though, the way she felt with Ben as the days passed was far more than contentment.

  “Contented” was the way her marriage had felt. She and Cliff weren’t happy, but they weren’t miserable, which is why they’d stayed married for so long. It was harder to leave a situation that wasn’t working when you were comfortable.

  With Ben, however, everything felt exciting. Normal things, like watching a movie on the couch, walking down Main Street for coffee, and going to the grocery store for milk, were fun. Ben teased Liza for talking through scenes in a movie and then asking him to explain what was going on five minutes later. He’d go into The Roast to get them both coffees, and come out with a cake pop held behind his back for Liza, knowing she wanted one even though she didn’t ask. And when a good song came on over the speakers in the grocery store, Ben used a zucchini as a microphone and put on a lip-syncing performance for the ages, earning cheers from nearby customers.

  Ben brought out a side of Liza she’d left behind long ago. He helped her see the beauty in ordinary things. He picked dandelions from cracks in the concrete and presented them to her like the most expensive bouquet, and Liza took them home to press between the pages of books.

  “When are you leaving Willow Beach?” They were sitting on Liza’s front porch under a blanket, mugs of steaming tea in their hands. “Will you stay until your sister’s wedding or—”

  “Honestly, I don’t have anywhere to return to,” Ben said. “I was living in Quincy, but I was starting to feel restless, so I sold my apartment and traveled for a bit. Freelancing means I can work from anywhere. Then, Stacy got engaged and needed my help, so, here I am.”

  “You’re kind of a nomad.”

  Ben shrugged. “After Heather left for college, there wasn’t a need to stay put in one place. I’ve stayed in hotels, taken over leases for a few months at a time, and even lived in a camper for six months. As long as I have a place nearby with a reliable internet connection, I can make money anywhere. So, I can stay in Willow Beach as long as you want.”

  “It’s not up to me,” Liza said quickly. “I’m not going to force you to stay put anywhere if you don’t want to.”

  Ben smiled and leaned closer, nudging her shoulder with his. “That’s just it, Liza. You don’t need to force me to stay. I’ll stay so long as you don’t force me to go.”

  They’d been together for days on end, and Ben still hadn’t tried to kiss her. Not once.

  But sitting with him on the porch swing while he asked her not to make him leave felt much more intimate.

  In the days leading up to the wedding, Ben turned Liza’s cottage into wedding headquarters. Every morning, he’d come over with coffee, occasionally croissants, and would make calls and arrangements from her kitchen table. Liza worked on making pastry dough for the mini beef Wellingtons and checking and double-checking her supplies to ensure she had everything she needed. Since she didn’t have her industrial kitchen, she’d have to make a lot of things ahead of time.

  Spending so much time together, Liza kept expecting Ben to get sick of her. To wan
t some space. To show signs of feeling trapped or tied down. But he didn’t.

  He showed up earlier every day, knocking on the door a few times before Liza had even dried her hair, and he stayed until Liza was ready to go to bed.

  It took Liza back to her days as a waitress at the bar and grill, working while Ben sat at a table, waiting for her shift to end.

  It felt nice, but she couldn’t entirely keep away the doubts.

  She hadn’t noticed any signs of him pulling away back then, either. In the days before he broke up with her, he’d been just as sweet and charming and thoughtful as ever.

  What had Liza missed?

  Had she done something to push him away? Or had he simply grown bored with her?

  Most importantly, would it happen again?

  The questions sat unspoken between them, but Liza decided they would wait until after the wedding. Neither of them had the time to dive into them now. Besides, Liza wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. She wanted to live in this bubble of bliss for as long as possible before reality had a chance to pop it.

  16

  Liza let out a string of curses that would have made her mother call their pastor, but cursing had never been more appropriate.

  Her oven was broken.

  Or, rather, Mrs. Albertson’s twenty-year-old gas oven was broken.

  Liza had noticed the oven was in less than ideal condition when she arrived, but it cooked food remarkably evenly. Until it didn’t.

  Now, it was the day of Stacy and Jonathan’s wedding, and Liza didn’t have an oven.

  “What do I do?” she mumbled, pulling trays of food out of the cold oven and setting them on the counter.

  It was too late to call a repairman and far too late to order a new oven. Liza needed a working oven now.

  As she thought through all of her options, her phone rang. It was a number she didn’t recognize, but she answered it, anyway.

  “Hey, Liza.” Georgia Baldwin’s voice came over the phone line, and Liza felt a weight life off her shoulders. “The inn is all abuzz with Stacy’s wedding guests getting ready for the big day, but none of them need my help. So, I thought I’d call and see if you needed anything. I hate feeling useless.”

  “Are you an angel? Or a mind reader?”

  Georgia laughed. “No, but I take it you need some help?”

  “You have no idea.” Liza explained that she had countless trays of food ready to be put in an oven that was no longer working.

  “Well that I can help with. Breakfast is over, so my kitchen is free to use the rest of the day. Bring your stuff over here and turn this place into your personal kitchen. I’ll help or stay out of your way, whatever you need.”

  “Georgia Baldwin, you’re a saint.”

  Georgia laughed. “You won’t be saying that when I steal bites of your cooking all day.”

  “That’s a fair price to pay for you saving my behind today.”

  Liza loaded up her Tupperware containers, supplies, and wedding outfit in Mrs. Albertson’s car and drove over to the inn as fast as she could.

  As soon as she pulled up, Ben walked out the side door. He was wearing suit pants with a white button-down tucked in, but no jacket. His hair was mussed, strands falling over his forehead, and he was in such a hurry to get down the stairs and to his car that he didn’t see Liza right away.

  When he did notice her, he stopped short and blinked. “Liza? What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, I just…I didn’t expect to see you.” He sighed and walked towards her, pulling her in for a hug. “I’m happy to see you.”

  They’d sat close and snuggled under blankets and held hands, but they hadn’t hugged yet, and Liza felt it down to her toes. The stress she felt that morning seemed suddenly more bearable, like Ben absorbed some of it for her.

  “I’m happy to see you, too,” she said. “I’ve had a morning.”

  “That makes two of us. What happened to you?”

  “My oven broke. I’m here to use Georgia’s. What happened to you?”

  “The sole of my shoe came off. I’m running out to buy super glue right now before Stacy finds out. Jonathan’s flight was delayed, so he isn’t going to get into town for a few more hours, and Stacy is freaking out that he’ll miss the wedding.”

  Liza looked down and realized he had on white sneakers with his suit pants instead of dress shoes.

  “Wow, okay. So, I should probably hide in the kitchen in hopes she doesn’t find out about my oven situation?” Liza asked. “It sounds like she doesn’t need the extra stress.”

  Ben laid a hand on her shoulder. “If you don’t mind, that might be best.”

  She waved him away. “Of course not. My job is to make the bride’s day easier. As soon as my supplies are inside, I won’t need to leave, anyway. Just keep Stacy away from the kitchen.”

  Ben ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down slightly. “Are weddings always this stressful?”

  Liza didn’t know if he was asking her about her own wedding or her experience working at other people’s weddings. “It depends on a lot of different things. Not always.”

  “Was yours?”

  Aside from their first date, they hadn’t really discussed Cliff or made any mention of him, so Liza had begun to feel like the topic was off-limits. Though, of course it wasn’t. How could twenty years of her life be off-limits?

  Liza wondered for a second if she should lie, but she didn’t see the point. Ben knew how things had ended with her and Cliff. There wasn’t any need to be jealous.

  She shook her head. “No, it was perfect. It was a wonderful day.”

  He gave her a small smile. “I bet you were a beautiful bride.”

  With that, they parted ways, Ben off to buy super glue, and Liza to the kitchen.

  As soon as she walked in, Georgia raised her hands in the air like she was in a cooking competition and the host had just called time.

  “Done,” she said, twirling a rag in the air. “I just speed-cleaned the kitchen and preheated the oven to three fifty for you. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “You’ve already done enough.” Liza set a stack of Tupperware containers on the island. “You are so generous to let me use your kitchen. I’ll clean up after myself and make sure everything is back where it belongs.”

  “Please,” Georgia said, chuckling to herself. “Nothing is ever back where it belongs with this kitchen. I’m a very disorganized cook, which is why I pulled things out for you. Use whatever you need and make as big of a mess as you want. I’m happy to have you here.”

  Liza put trays in the oven while she wrapped and pinned bacon around scallops, chopped vegetables, and seasoned and rolled meatballs for the Italian wedding soup. As she worked, the stress of the morning began to fade away. Cooking had always worked like that for Liza.

  There were so many problems in the world—so many issues she couldn’t solve—but she could turn a pile of raw ingredients into a delicious meal. She could follow a recipe step by step and end up with a delicious final product. Cooking provided a sense of order in the disorder of life, and Liza took full solace in that feeling while preparing for Stacy’s wedding.

  Once everything was prepped and baking, all Liza had to do was start the soup.

  Except, she didn’t have her containers of stock. She’d made fresh chicken stock two days earlier, letting it simmer on the stove for twenty-four hours to extract every last drop of flavor. Now, it was nowhere to be found.

  “Don’t panic,” she said out loud to herself. The stock was probably in the car. It was cold enough outside that a few hours in the car wouldn’t have ruined it. Everything was fine.

  As soon as Liza opened the passenger side door, the overwhelming smell of chicken hit her, and her heart sank.

  Mrs. Albertson’s car hadn’t smelled wonderful to begin with. It was dusty and old and remnants of musty floral perfume clung to the upholstery, but it certainly hadn’t smelled like chicken. And even with
chicken stock in the car, it shouldn’t smell this strongly. Liza used restaurant-quality plasticware to transport her food. It was airtight.

  She reached down and pressed her hand into the floor mat and fragrant liquid bubbled up around her fingers.

  Chicken stock.

  Tears welled in her eyes almost instantly. As she walked around to open the hatchback, she blinked away the emotion.

  Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.

  She opened the hatch, and it was like a bloodbath, only if the blood was chicken stock.

  The large cylindrical plastic container she’d put the broth in had a crack in it, and all of the stock had leaked out while it sat in the trunk.

  Liza remembered grabbing the container from the fridge and hearing a plastic snapping noise, but she’d thought it had been the lid shifting. Then, after putting the container in the car, her hand had been slightly wet, but she’d thought it was condensation or some spilled chicken stock that had gathered around the bottom of the container.

  She never checked the container for cracks. She never even considered it.

  Now, her stock for the soup was gone and—

  Her eyes caught on the garment bag resting on the floor of the trunk, and a sob caught in her throat.

  The bag had been hanging on a hook from the ceiling, but when she reached over the back seat to grab the stock pot from the trunk, the dress had fallen, and Liza had never picked it up.

  She lunged for it and lifted it into the air, and rivulets of chicken stock washed down the front. She prayed that the bag was waterproof, but as soon as she unzipped it, she could see that the satiny dress fabric had taken on a darker color. She threw the sodden garment in the trunk and, for the second time that day, cursed.

  “Uh-oh.”

  Liza spun around and saw Stella Pierce standing behind her, a worried look on her face. “Is everything okay?”

  Worse things happened in the world every day, Liza knew that. Natural disasters, starving people, injustice, murder. Yet, none of those things were happening to her right now. This was happening, and she’d give anything for it to stop.