by Olivia Miles
The service. Of course. For a moment it was easy to get caught up in the sweet way she hovered around the girls, encouraged them to dance, made sure there were no tears even when ice cream toppled over or they almost ran out of pink jellybeans.
She was doing her job. And that shouldn’t disappoint him. Not in the slightest.
A jolt of panic shot through him when he realized he’d forgotten his checkbook back at the apartment. “Do you take credit cards?” he asked.
“I’m afraid we’re cash only.” She shrugged. “Just slip it under my door. No problem.”
“No,” Ben frowned and rubbed his forehead. “I’ll write the check tonight. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Violet’s mother usually insists on taking care of these things.” He supposed it made her feel like she was doing her part, and in that way, she was.
Mary set a hand on his arm. It was light, feminine, but reassuring all at once. He stiffened, unused to this kind of connection, and had the strange desire for it to linger just a little bit longer.
“It’s fine, Ben,” she said, laughing quietly. He liked the way she said his name. The way she seemed to imply that she knew him. It had been a long time since he’d felt like anyone knew him.
He couldn’t even say he knew himself much anymore.
Violet came running up to them, her eyes glazed and shiny from too much sugar consumption, a ring of sticky chocolate sauce covering her mouth and cheeks. “I had fun,” she announced.
“I can see you did,” Ben remarked, grinning. Mission accomplished. Now to make sure that tomorrow, on her actual birthday, he could say the same. “Be sure to thank Mary for giving you such a nice party.”
“Thank you, Mary,” Violet said dutifully, and then, to his surprise and horror, flung herself at Mary’s waist.
Mary let out a little whoop of surprise and hugged Violet in return, but Ben could only cringe as he saw the dark stain appear on the waist of her soft, pastel sweater. He walked back behind the counter, grabbed some paper towels and wetted them.
Violet was already profusely apologizing by the time he made it back around. “Here,” he said, pressing it to the smudge just above her hip. Mary lifted her hands in surprise as Ben worked at removing the stain, his head bent in concentration, ignoring Mary’s protests and Violet’s insistence that it was just an accident.
His hand suddenly stilled and he looked up to catch Mary’s eye, hoping he hadn’t upset her, only to find that her gaze danced with amusement, and something else, something deeper. Something a lot like . . . interest.
Tensing, he thrust the paper towel into her hand. “Sorry. I just didn’t want it to set.”
“It’s fine,” Mary said, her voice catching. She cleared her throat and broke his stare. “Good as new,” she informed Violet, whose mouth had turned downward at her mistake.
“You’re not mad?”
“It’s just chocolate,” Mary said gaily. “I work in an ice cream shop. This happens all the time.”
“You’re not going to go away then?” Violet whispered.
Mary frowned and slanted a glance at Ben. Ben ran a hand through his hair, gritting his teeth until his jaw hurt. “Where would I go? I live right across the hall from your dad.”
Violet looked up at Ben, unconvinced.
“Can I offer you a ride home?” Ben asked Mary.
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I can walk.” Mary began straightening chairs.
“But it’s twenty-eight degrees outside,” Ben said, even though he knew this was an excuse, and an exceptionally convenient one. For the second time since Violet had come to stay with him, their day was a little happier, a little brighter. He wasn’t ready for that to end just yet. “I’m driving you.”
Mary stopped straightening up and gave him a long look. “Okay, then. Thank you.”
But something in him told him that the gratitude was all his.
***
Mary held the door open while Ben carried Violet into the mailroom of the apartment building. One of her sparkly pink shoes was slipping off her foot, and Mary reached out to catch it just before it fell from her toe.
“Sugar overdose?” she asked Ben.
He gave a wry smile. “More like lack of sleep. I let her stay up last night and watch a movie, and I’m guessing too much excitement for today kept her awake long after I’d tucked her in.”
Mary reached for the door to the stairwell, feeling herself cringe when she noticed her handy little sign for the community yard sale, still taped to the glass. Not a single name was on the list other than her own. On to plan B, she supposed. Whatever that was.
“I’ve been meaning to take that down,” she said, reddening.
“You shouldn’t,” Ben said, catching her by surprise. He hesitated, shifted Violet on his hip, and squared her with a look. His lashes were dark and curly. How had she not noticed that before? She supposed she’d been too focused on the murky blue eyes underneath, trying to read them, to understand him a little better. “It’s a good idea. I would participate myself if I had anything left to give away. My ex ended up with most of my worldly possessions.” He grinned, but there was a flicker of something sad in his eyes.
So there it was. His ex.
“Well, I think you raised a good point about the weather.” Mary shrugged and carefully removed the sign from the door, sure not to leave any strips of tape. “I keep hoping the sun will come out one day and melt all this snow. It’s bad for business.” Now it was her turn to give a wry smile.
“I hope today helped,” Ben said. “No doubt the kids will want their parents to take them back.”
Mary nodded enthusiastically. “Every little bit helps, and I appreciate it. A lot. I just need to figure out how to keep things going during the winter months going forward.” She put on a brave smile, as if she had everything under control, when in fact she did not. Not in the least. She opened the door a little wider, “After you.”
“Normally I’d say ladies first, but thanks. Violet’s getting a little heavy,” Ben said, laughing.
“Is she . . . your only child?” Mary asked.
“We’d thought about having more, but that never happened.” Ben’s brow furrowed as he brushed by her and began ascending the staircase, Violet never moving the entire time.
Mary followed him closely to the landing and reached into her handbag for her key. “Thanks for the ride home. You saved me a walk in the cold.”
“Do you mind doing me a favor?” Ben asked, his eyebrow lifting in invitation.
Mary’s curiosity piqued. “Sure.”
“My keys are in my pocket and . . .” He dipped his head, motioning to Violet, whom he was clinging to with both arms.
Mary laughed. “Of course!” She eyed his jeans, dark and a little tight, that clung to his perfectly sculpted thighs and felt her stomach do a little dance. It had been so long since she’d touched a man, especially one that was as good looking as Ben. She’d do it quickly, in and out, no different than she might touch, say, her sister. She let out a shaky breath and inched her fingers toward his front pocket, stopping when Ben cleared his throat.
“The um, coat pocket,” he said, his lips curving with mischief.
“Oh.” Mary blinked. “Of course. Of course.” Silly girl. Of course they’d be in his coat pocket. She pushed back the swell of disappointment as she sunk her hand into the wool, her hands going nowhere near those sexy parts, reminding herself that this was for the best. There was no point in fancying the man, after all. He was her neighbor. And the last thing she needed was more complication in her life.
What she needed was a nice, friendly man next door. A man who watered her plants on occasion—should she decide to take on such a responsibility at some point. A man who said hello when he passed her in the hallway.
What she didn’t need was temptation. And really, that’s all he was.
She turned the key in the lock and the door swung open. In all the months she’d lived here, she’d never caught a glimpse i
nside, not a hint of insight into his world, but now, in a matter of days, she was finding that there was a lot more to the man than first met the eye.
She hovered in the hallway as Ben stepped over dolls and picture books and deposited Violet over the back of the brown leather couch in a touchingly tender way.
“She’ll probably sleep for the rest of the afternoon,” Ben said, walking back to the door.
Mary pulled her eyes from the apartment, from the bare furnishings and mess of pink and sparkly girly toys, and looked up into Ben’s gaze. His hair was disheveled, his eyes a little wild, but his smile had never seemed easier.
“You don’t want to forget this,” Mary said, handing over Violet’s shoe.
“Thanks,” Ben said. “For . . . everything.”
“It was my pleasure,” Mary said, backing up to slip her key into her own door. She held up a hand, her heart tugging as Ben did the same, and then disappeared into her apartment.
The man had forgotten to pay her. And somehow, she didn’t even care.
Chapter Seven
Ben checked his phone for the eleventh time that hour and, heaving a sigh, shoved it back into his pocket. The wind was strong when he pushed open the door, but the chill had subsided a bit.
Coming around the car, he opened the back passenger door and grinned at Violet. “Ready for dinner, birthday girl?”
“Why hasn’t Mommy called yet?” she asked in response.
Ben gritted his teeth. Hell if he knew. It was already half past four, and ten thirty in London. Dana had let the entire day go by without a phone call, but there was no overlooking the huge package that had arrived yesterday, with every toy Violet could ever ask for.
Where was she? And what could be more important than her daughter?
He ground his teeth a little deeper. He knew the answer to that.
“Let’s go inside and have fun. I think Grandma made you a cake!” He helped Violet out of her car seat, refusing to let his expression match Violet’s concern. This was her birthday, and he might not have given her the biggest present, but he was here, and so help him, this day would be special.
Just being here, on the North Shore, in his childhood neighborhood made him feel a little better. He knew he should come back more often, spend time in the house that was the only thing left he had of a home, surrounded by people who cared, who would always be there. It was just difficult sometimes—to work up the energy for the drive, to go back to where he’d come from, to face another setup, he thought wryly.
No doubt he would be spared a blind date tonight. It was Violet’s birthday, after all, and besides, his mother respected the fact that she’d had enough change in her life recently. She didn’t need random new people floating in and out of it, too.
The door to the brick Colonial home swung open before Ben and Violet had even made it to the front stoop. His parents stood side by side, holding a big bunch of balloons, their smiles ones of pure joy as they swooped down to give their only grandchild a hug. Ben spotted Emma over his mother’s shoulder, her expression a little more subdued.
“How’s the hermit?” she asked, giving him a knowing smile.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he shot back. “You haven’t called me in all of two days. I was beginning to worry something had happened to you.”
Emma did a poor job of hiding her smile. “Point made.” She stood back, giving him an overt once-over. “You look better than usual. Less grim.”
“It’s Violet’s birthday,” he reminded her, as they all moved into the front hall.
Emma tipped her head, wrinkling her nose the way she had since they were kids. “No, it’s not that. It’s something else. Or maybe . . . Someone else.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Ben took off his coat and draped it on the bench next to the old grandfather’s clock that chimed on the hour. “That someone is standing right there. She’s about four feet tall.”
Emma shrugged, showing she wasn’t convinced, and then left him to greet her niece. Younger than himself by three years and without a relationship or child of her own, he continued to find it pretty damn rich that she was so keen on giving him unsolicited advice, but then, that was just Emma. She’d always been opinionated. Always been mature beyond her years.
His mother helped Violet out of her coat, and soon, they were all gathered in the big formal dining room at the front of the house, which was filled with streamers and even more balloons.
“Look at that cake!” Ben shook his head at the unicorn shaped dessert. “You really outdid yourself, Mom.”
His mother brushed a hand through the air, but he could see that she was pleased at the compliment. “I was happy to do it.” Lowering her voice, she said, “This can’t be easy for her. I wanted this day to be special.”
“It is,” he said firmly. It would be. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the screen. Still no call.
“Well,” his mother said, as she pulled out the chair at the head of the table, typically reserved for Ben’s dad, but today clearly reserved for Violet. “Who’s in the mood for pizza?”
Ben met is sister’s eyes and laughed. The one day he thought he could get away from his usual routine, and he was right back in it. Only tonight he wouldn’t let things slide too far into the familiar. Tonight was Violet’s night. He didn’t need to hear any concern, not unless it was for his daughter.
His gut knotted when he checked his watch. She had to call. If she didn’t . . . He pulled in a breath. She would call. She had to.
His dad set the pizza boxes on the center of the table and set a slice on Violet’s plate. Ben took his old seat, the one across from his sister, wondering if he would ever get used to the empty chair beside him where Dana used to sit. It wasn’t that he missed her presence, not anymore. It was that he hated the reminder of it, of a time and period that had come and gone, of the void in his life where none was supposed to be.
His mother took the chair next to Emma, where Violet usually sat, and began asking conversationally about the birthday party.
“We made our own sundaes,” Violet told her. “And Mary let us each pick a song from the jukebox.”
“Mary?” Emma cocked an eyebrow and nailed him with a look.
“She’s the ice cream lady. She’s really pretty. She lives next door to Daddy,” Violet added.
Ben mentally rolled his eyes as his sister’s gaze grew wider. Thank you, Violet. As usual, her lack of discretion shone through.
“I see,” Emma said, her eyes sparkling. “And does this Mary woman have a husband?”
Ben set down his fork. “For God’s sake—”
“No!” Violet cried happily. “She doesn’t even have a boyfriend. My friends and I asked.”
Emma nodded thoughtfully as she reached for a slice of pizza. “No boyfriend. And pretty, too.” She lifted her gaze to Ben. “What do you think about that?”
“I don’t think there’s anything to think about,” Ben replied, and crammed the pizza into his mouth.
Except he did think about it. Thought about those big round eyes when they met his gaze, thought about the sweet pink mouth that curved into that beautiful smile. He thought about the sound of her laugh. And the way he felt when he heard it.
He thought about Mary quite a bit, actually.
And that was just the problem.
***
Mary sat in her sister’s dining room, leafing through another bridal magazine.
“You’re not going to make me wear chartreuse, are you?” she teased, as Lila set three plates at the table.
“I was thinking mustard yellow would be better with your coloring.” Lila winked, and disappeared into the kitchen again.
Mary sighed. There had been a time so recently when she’d dared to imagine planning her own wedding . . . to Jason, of all people. She pursed her lips as she flicked to the next page. No use wallowing in that disappointment. Not when she had so many more on the horizon.
The threat of losi
ng Sunshine Creamery seemed all too possible now. She didn’t have much left to pour into the business, not to mention any repairs the building itself called for. She was barely covering her own rent. Summer might pick up, but what about next winter? Her stomach ached just thinking about it.
“Any more thoughts on your dress?” Mary asked when Lila returned with a bottle of white wine. She needed to stay focused in the moment, not catastrophize the situation. She deserved a night of fun. God knew the rest of her nights were spent worrying, scheming. But she was running out of ideas, and the ones she’d come up with, like the yard sale, felt a little desperate.
Lila glanced over her shoulder at Sam, who was still in the kitchen. “No, but I’m glad you brought it up. Do you remember how much we loved looking at Mom and Dad’s wedding photo growing up?”
Mary hadn’t thought of that photo in years. It was faded, the colors muted, protected by the silver frame Gram kept on the mantle. “We loved how young they looked.”
“Mom was so pretty,” Lila said sadly, and Mary set her hand on her sister’s arm. They didn’t talk of their parents often. They’d been raised by their grandparents since they were children, and somehow the recent passing of their grandfather had hit them the hardest, awakening the realization that all they had left was each other.
Except now Lila would have Sam, too, Mary thought. She swallowed hard, not wanting to go down that path. Maybe someday she’d find the right man, too. But for now, she had to stay focused on their family’s legacy. Just thinking of her grandfather reinforced her determination.
“I wanted to see how you felt about it, but . . . I was thinking I might wear Mom’s dress. If it fits.”
Mary blinked. As children they had begged to try it on, and their grandmother would let them, only for a few minutes. They’d stand in the gown, twisting and turning in front of the floor-length mirror that hung on the back of their bedroom door, feeling so special. Eventually the novelty had worn off, and they’d stopped trying it on, and eventually, Mary realized with a bit of a start, stopped thinking of it all.