by Alix Kelso
“I feel like an idiot.”
He glanced at her. “Don’t say that. You were trying to do a good thing. And nothing bad has happened yet, except that Uncle Keith’s romance radar has been tweaked. Let’s just see what happens. Okay?”
“Okay.” But she sighed unhappily and turned towards the window. A thought occurred to her. “Maybe I’m looking at this all wrong. I wanted to set Natalie up to see if going out with a man might make her rethink selling up. Well it was never going to happen straight away, was it? And she had a good time with your uncle. She’s planning on seeing him again. So who knows how this will turn out? Maybe Keith is right. Maybe a few more dates will get her seeing things differently.”
When Bruce said nothing, she looked his way. “You think I’m delusional.”
“Not delusional. Just optimistic. And that’s not a bad thing.”
She smiled and looked out the window. “We lit the blue touchpaper. Now maybe I ought to just stand back, keep my fingers crossed, and see what happens next.” They’d had a good run of green lights and were now nearing the city centre. “Just let me out anywhere that’s handy.”
“I said it’s no trouble to take you where you’re going.”
“I’m not really going anywhere.”
When Bruce slowed for a set of traffic lights, she picked up her bag from the floor. “I can get out here. Thanks for the lift Bruce, I appreciate—”
“Wait, don’t go,” he said, turning towards her. “Listen, I don’t really have big plans today either. But someone in the pub mentioned a food festival that’s happening this afternoon, and I thought I’d drop by and check it out. Want to come?”
“Um, no, I don’t think ...”
The light changed from red to green, and he returned his attention to the road. “I thought I’d have a look around, try some food, watch some cookery demonstrations. Come with me, keep me company.”
“Um ...” She searched for a good reason not to go, but couldn’t find one. It sounded like a nice way to spend the afternoon. Despite setting off for a solo picnic, the truth was she didn’t really feel like being on her own.
“Okay, that sounds nice,” she found herself saying. “Thanks.”
He smiled. “Good. I didn’t want to wander around by myself. I’ve been back in this city four months, and I’m still Johnny-no-mates.”
“Hey, I’m your friend.”
He looked at her and smiled. “That’s good to hear.”
The busy traffic of the city centre soon eased as they crossed the river and drove towards Queen’s Park, where Bruce swooped on a parking space near the entrance gates. An open area of the park near the playing fields was spread with stalls and marquees and lined with rows of wooden tables and benches where people were relaxing and enjoying the food they’d purchased. Colourful bunting was strung between the stalls, adding a carnival feel. A band was playing on a tiny stage at one end, and kids were lining up to get their faces painted. The sun was shining, a breeze was blowing, and as Bruce paid the small entrance fee and led them towards the festival tents, Laura was happy she’d decided to tag along.
They wandered the food stalls, enjoying marinated olives one moment, tiny haggis bonbons the next. In one open-sided marquee, a fresh Italian pasta demonstration was in full swing, while in another people were learning cupcake decoration techniques. As Laura and Bruce browsed the stalls, they purchased little cartons of food and were soon heavily laden down.
“This is just greed,” Laura said, balancing a bag of bread rolls on top of a stack of food cartons. “We’ll never eat all this. I’ve already scoffed enough free samples to keep me going for a week.”
“Most of these tables are taken,” Bruce said, looking around. “How about we grab a spot beneath that tree?”
As they headed in the direction he’d pointed, they passed a stall selling picnicware and Bruce stopped and purchased a blanket.
“If I’d known we’d end up here, I could’ve brought my own,” Laura said as he spread the blanket beneath the tree. “I just pulled it from the linen closet this morning.”
He laid out the cartons of food and gave her a curious look.
She shrugged and sat down. “I was supposed to be going on a picnic this afternoon with my boyfriend.”
“And yet you’re here with me. What happened?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Tell me anyway.”
She studied a carton of chargrilled vegetables. “He dumped me for Indiana Jones.”
Bruce frowned, before clicking his fingers and nodding solemnly. “Raiders is showing at the film theatre on Rose Street. I can see the dilemma. It’s a tough call.”
She gasped and whacked him playfully on the arm.
“I’m kidding! Hey, you hit hard.” He rubbed theatrically at his elbow. “Obviously he shouldn’t have ditched you for Indiana Jones. It’s a no-brainer.”
“Apparently not for him.”
“So, who is this guy? Want me to beat him up for you?”
She laughed and spread some brie on to a crusty roll. “He’s just someone I’ve been seeing for a couple of months. I don’t think it’s going anywhere.”
Bruce examined the pakora he’d taken from a bag. “So, why are you with him?”
“Good question.”
They ate in comfortable silence, watching people walk around the stalls and listening to the band playing on the stage at the other side of the festival.
“This is nice,” Laura said, popping an olive in her mouth and stretching out. “And this blanket’s much more comfortable than mine. It’s got padding and everything. I might have to buy one of these.”
“You can have this one.”
“Don’t be daft.”
“Take it. My gift to you, to say thanks for keeping me company today.”
“You don’t need to bribe me to get me to spend time with you, Bruce.”
“I don’t? Good to know.”
Grinning, she pushed her sunglasses up on to her head and studied him. He was a good-looking guy, although she hadn’t exactly registered it until now. She liked his thick dark hair and his grey-blue eyes, which made her think of the way the sky clears after a storm. And he had a great smile, the kind you couldn’t help but return when you saw it. He was tall, in good shape, and seemed to look after himself. She found herself wondering what his wife had been thinking, letting him get away.
“When we talked last night on the phone,” she said, “you mentioned your ex-wife. I’ve never heard you talk about her before. We don’t really know each other, so tell me if I’m sticking my nose in. But the way you spoke last night, she obviously hurt you. What happened?”
Bruce set aside the food carton he’d been opening. “Let’s not put a dampener on a beautiful summer afternoon by talking about it.”
“Hey, I told you I’d been dumped for Raiders of the Lost Ark. I share, you share.”
Although he laughed, she understood it was a sad laugh.
“What happened to me is a little different.”
“I can see that. I’m not an idiot. But if you ever want to talk, I’m here. Okay?”
Deciding to let it go, she leaned back once more, looking out at the stalls and the people. And just when she thought the moment had passed, he finally spoke.
“She cheated on me,” he said quietly. “My wife cheated on me.”
Leaning forward, she squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“People cheat all the time, I know that. I’m not the first person it’s ever happened to, and I won’t be the last.”
“It doesn’t matter. It happened to you. It hurt.”
“It was a guy she knew at work, and they’d been handling this big corporate account together. One thing led to another. Those are the words she used. I thought people only said things like that in the movies.”
She waited, stayed quiet, and let him talk.
“Anyway, it had been going on for months by the time she told me. She said they’d
fallen in love.” He shook his head at the memory. “That was a punch to the guts. I’d been working non-stop building my business, and had no idea. I blamed myself at first. It was my fault, because I was too busy to notice my wife had fallen in love with some other guy.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“So people tell me. And I guess I know it’s true. But see, I thought we’d had a plan together. She was my wife and I loved her and I thought we were going to be together forever. It’s hard to face up to being dead wrong about something as important as that.”
She watched him debate something with himself.
“And then she told me that …” But he trailed off and looked into the distance and shook his head. “Maybe you won’t mind if I finish the story some other time.”
“You don’t ever have to finish the story, Bruce. You don’t owe me an explanation. Listen, we’ll change the topic. What’s your plan now, for the future? What’s next?”
Now he laughed a proper laugh and she felt relief, hating the idea that she’d risked spoiling their lovely afternoon by bringing the conversation around to painful things.
“What’s next?” he repeated. “Who knows? When I was living in London with my wife – correction, my ex-wife – I bought and renovated a pub, so—”
“Ah, that’s why you’re hanging around with your Uncle Keith. You miss your pub.”
“That, and don’t forget Uncle Keith’s sparkling personality is a huge draw too.”
She smiled. “I just assumed you were doing some bartending. I didn’t realise you were a big businessman.”
“I wouldn’t describe myself that way.”
“Did your Uncle Keith get you into that line of work?”
He nodded. “I worked a couple of summers at The Crooked Thistle while I was at college – this was probably before you started working at Valentino’s. It started as a way to make a bit of pocket money. But I loved it. Uncle Keith showed me the ropes, how the place was run. I was doing a business and hospitality course, and when I graduated I decided to go into the pub business. And I’ve loved every minute of it. It’s dominated by the big breweries, but there’s space for independents like me, if you know what you’re doing. It’s challenging, but so is any job.
“I sold my pub in London after my marriage ended and I came home to Glasgow. Uncle Keith let me have his spare room, and I like hanging around The Crooked Thistle, just doing routine jobs, routine work, while I regroup. I’m looking for the right opportunity to present itself to buy something else. I viewed a place this morning, but it wasn’t right.”
“What are you looking for? In a pub, I mean?”
He considered the question. “I liked what I did in London, taking on a place that was basically a shell but that had a lot of potential. I saw what it could be with care and attention. I say London, but we’re talking the outer extremities, because I couldn’t have afforded anywhere else. But there was potential. And it worked and it made money. So what I’m looking for is the chance to do the same thing again, here.” He plucked at a blade of grass on the edge of the picnic blanket. “I don’t know what I’m looking for specifically, but I’ll know it when I see it.”
“But the place you saw today wasn’t it?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be. Wrong location, wrong market, wrong building. Wrong everything, basically. But my brother thinks I’m dragging my heels and keeps harassing me about restarting my business plans, so now I’ll be able tell him I’ve got the ball rolling, which should keep him off my back. I want to move on, and know I have to move on, but it’s not easy.”
“It’s hard after a big shock in life.” She drank from a bottle of water and picked out another olive from the carton. “After my parents died, it took me a while to get going again.”
“How long before you got back on track?”
She returned the olive to the carton and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I’m not sure I ever did. I mean the life I have now isn’t the one I once thought I’d have. But I found Valentino’s at a really low point in my life and I liked it there, and so I stayed. Things don’t always turn out the way you expect them to, but Valentino’s became the one place I could rely on to stay the same. Until now.”
“It must have been hard, losing your parents. I can’t imagine it.”
When she looked at him, she saw his expression was open, an invitation for her to talk, if she wanted to. And she found that she did want to talk, in a way she rarely had before. Something in his eyes made her feel safe and made her want to share what lay in her heart.
“After they died,” she found herself saying, “I had to sell our family home, pack up everything and leave. When Natalie told me she was selling Valentino’s, my boyfriend, John, asked why I was so surprised. After all, hadn’t I sold my family home after my parents were gone to get away from the memories? But he had it all wrong. I didn’t sell our home to get away from the memories. I sold because I had no choice.
“At the time, I thought I was being brave, facing up to the fact that I couldn’t afford to run the house, that I had to sell it, that I had to relocate to the city to have a chance of getting a job and staying afloat. But there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t wish I hadn’t had to do it. It was the house I grew up in and I miss it, even now. So I know how much it hurts saying goodbye to a place that means so much to you, knowing that once it’s gone, you can’t ever get it back.”
She looked away and cleared the emotion from her voice before talking again. “Natalie says she wants to get away from the memories in Valentino’s, but I worry she might end up feeling the same way I did.”
Now it was Bruce’s turn to lean forward and squeeze her arm. “I’m sorry about what happened to you. And I’m sorry you’re troubled about Natalie.”
She waved a hand. “You’re sorry for me, and I’m sorry for you.”
“We’re quite a pair, overflowing with the joys of life like this.”
Seeing him grin, she laughed. “The funny thing is I never talk about this stuff. You’re the first person I’ve shared it with in a long time.” She looked at him, and considered. “You’re sort of easy to talk to.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
They held each other’s gaze. Finally, he laughed and gestured towards the park and the festival. “We ought to be enjoying this beautiful afternoon, not sharing these sad stories.”
She glanced around and pointed to one the marquees. “I saw a sign earlier for a pancake-making session. How about we go and do it?”
“Make pancakes?”
“Sure, why not?”
“I’ve never made a pancake before.”
“All the more reason to make one now. You said you wanted to see some cookery demonstrations.”
“Yeah, see them. Not take part in them.”
But he was smiling and already gathering up the empty food cartons. Laura packed everything into a bag, and they walked over to the marquee, arriving just in time to take their places at the preparation counter.
They passed a pleasant thirty minutes, mixing pancake batter, listening to the banter from the cooking demonstrator, and sharing laughs with the other participants when everyone’s first attempt at pancake frying ended in disaster. When it was time to toss the pancakes in the air, Bruce managed to throw his halfway across the tent, making Laura double over in helpless giggling.
Eventually, everyone succeeded in sliding at least a couple of pancakes from their pans on to their plates, prompting the demonstrator to break into applause and encourage everyone to join in.
“What do you think?” Laura said, gesturing to her pancakes and the mixed berries she’d artfully arranged around them.
“Not bad.” Bruce turned to his own plate, on which sat a tower of charred discs. “I think mine might be inedible.”
The grinning cooking demonstrator arrived at their station and issued certificates acknowledging their pancake-making prowess.
“
We get a certificate!” Laura said, examining the paperwork with delight. “I can put it on my wall.”
“You’re really going to put this on your wall?” Bruce said, eyeing his own certificate doubtfully.
“Every small victory counts. Today, we mastered pancake making and I’ve got this certificate to prove it.”
“Maybe you mastered it. I almost burned the tent down.”
Laughing, she forked some pancake from her plate and held it out to him. “Eat and learn from a true, and now certified, pancake expert.”
Bruce ate the pancake. And then reached out and brushed his hand over her cheek. The surprise stunned her laughter to silence, and the touch of his fingers made her skin tingle.
“You’ve got flour on your face,” he said, seeing her reaction and quickly dropping his hand.
“Oh God, do I?” She rubbed at her cheek and laughed. “Is it gone?”
He reached out once more and gently wiped her face. “All gone.”
His gaze held hers, and she found she couldn’t look away. His eyes were really something up close, a colour caught somewhere between grey and blue like a storm crossing over a sea. And the way his lips curled just the way they did, when that smile was sneaking in from the side ...
For just the briefest moment, Laura wondered what it would feel like to press her lips against his.
Startled by the thought, she cleared her throat and glanced at her watch. “I should probably think about getting home,” she said.
And she quickly walked out of the marquee before she did something really stupid.
The evening turned sweet and cool as they drove back to Fairhill, with the windows down and the radio on. Bruce enjoyed the drive with Laura beside him, her honey-blonde hair whipping in the breeze.
He’d almost kissed her. And over a plate of burned pancakes, for God’s sake. The way she’d looked with that sprinkling of flour on her cheek, and her hair soft and wispy from the heat inside the marquee, had almost undone him.
But it was impossible to get caught up with a woman again, so soon after the disaster of his marriage break-up. His divorce had only just been finalised, and he was trying to get his life back together. Yet those reasons had been lost as he’d stood beside Laura, letting her feed him pancakes and strawberries and listening to her laugh.