More Than This

by Stephanie Taylor

  “For what?” Logan steps out of the doorway and into the office, leaning his back against the wall where Holly usually hangs her purse on the coat hook. He puts both hands in the pockets of his shorts.

  “How about lawn care services, for starters?” Holly looks up at him with the pencil poised over the pad of paper. “I know lots of older people who hate mowing their lawns anyway, but they especially hate it this time of year when the weather gets really hot and humid. It’s not good for them to be out in the sun pushing a lawnmower when it’s ninety-five degrees.”

  “I don’t really mind the heat,” Logan says. His eyes shift back and forth between Bonnie and Holly.

  “So we could put together a flyer for that and see if the triplets will let you hang it at their store. And I bet Ellen and Carrie-Anne would be okay with you putting it up at the coffee shop. Those two stores alone would pretty much guarantee that everyone on the island sees your sign at least once a day.”

  “Okay.” A smile spreads across Logan’s face. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “So why don’t you go home and give it some more thought. Decide what you want to offer and how much you might charge, and then email it to me and we can print it out here if you want.” Holly leans across the desk to grab a Christmas Key B&B business card from the holder on her desk and passes it to Logan.

  He examines the card. “I took graphic design at school last semester.”

  “Perfect. Then I’m sure you can put together something great.”

  Logan stands in the doorway, still looking at the business card in his hand. He shifts from one foot to the other. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” A flush of red creeps up his young neck as he takes a step towards the hallway. “Oh,” Logan says. He turns back to face Holly. “My mom said you two used to go kayaking when you were teenagers.”

  Holly smiles, remembering. “Yeah, we did. We used to hang out and do outdoorsy stuff together all the time.”

  “She’s been pretty busy with my great-grandpa lately, and I was wondering if you’d go kayaking with me sometime.”

  Holly pulls one bare foot up under her thigh on the chair. “Me? Oh, I kind of…” Holly looks around at her neat work space, trying to find something pressing as an excuse to stay chained to her desk. “I’ve been gone for a while, and I have a few things I need to catch up on here.”

  “Right. Okay.” Logan starts to walk out the door. “I’ll send you the flyer as soon as I get it done.”

  Bonnie is smiling at Holly from the other side of the office. “You’ve gotten a lot accomplished here, sugar. Why don’t you take Logan out on the water?”

  Logan pauses hopefully.

  “I guess I could…” Holly says, twisting her long hair into a knot at the nape of her neck and wrapping an elastic around the loose bun. “Maybe in an hour or two.”

  “Really?” Logan’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. His eager expression reminds Holly of the look Pucci gives her when he gets wind of the fact that they might go on a walk.

  “Yeah, we can do that.” Holly nods. “Let me get a few things done around here, and then I’ll text you. Here, give me your number.” She picks up her phone and opens a new contact to add Logan’s information, which he gives her eagerly.

  There’s a spring in Logan’s step as he holds up a hand in farewell and disappears down the hallway. Bonnie is grinning at Holly with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

  “There’s no shortage of men for you, sugar. Even on a speck of sand in the ocean, you’ve got them clamoring for your attention.”

  Holly makes a disbelieving face and blows out a short puff of breath like she’s dismissing the very idea. “Logan is sixteen,” she says. “I’d hardly classify him as a ‘man’ who’s clamoring for my attention.”

  Bonnie smirks. “Mmmhmm. A man is a man is a man, doll, and whether he’s sixteen or sixty, if he turns pink under the collar while asking you for a date, then he’s clamoring for your attention.”

  Holly is about to make a smart remark when her cell phone buzzes loudly on the desk. The name on the screen says JAKE in all caps.

  Bonnie glances down at it. “Speaking of men who want your attention…” She cocks an eyebrow and turns back to the filing cabinets, sliding a drawer open slowly.

  “It’s just Jake,” Holly says, hitting the button to send the call to voicemail.

  “Mmmhmm,” Bonnie says again, smiling to herself as she slips files into alphabetical order in the drawer. “Whatever you say, sugar.”

  28

  Holly and Logan are dragging their kayak to shore after an hour on the water. It’s actually been a fun escape from thinking about everything that’s weighing on Holly’s mind: Coco and the casino; River, who she still needs to respond to at some point; and—not least of all—Ray’s memorial service that’s coming up on Sunday afternoon.

  “Thanks for taking me out,” Logan says, pulling the boat by a handle and moving it onto the sand. “My mom’s been pretty busy lately, and there isn’t much to do around here.”

  “Trust me, I’ve been sixteen on this island,” Holly says with a smile. “It’s kind of a ‘make your own fun’ type of place.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to say anything negative about the island—I’m actually starting to like it here,” Logan adds quickly. He pulls the brim of his baseball cap down lower over his brows.

  “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it for a second.” Holly drops the side of the boat she’s been dragging and puts both hands on her hips. “Hey, how’s your great-grandpa doing?”

  Logan shrugs. “He’s okay. He doesn’t really know who I am, but he only calls my mom by the wrong name sometimes. He mostly just watches television and takes naps.”

  Holly wipes her forehead with the back of her wrist. Hal Pillory’s sudden decline has been a heavy weight on the shoulders of all the islanders, and the reminder that they live amongst so many people whose health and stability are tenuous—at best—is kind of a downer.

  “I guess that’s to be expected at his age. He held on pretty well after your great-grandma passed away,” Holly says, remembering how lost Hal had been after Sadie’s death.

  Logan nods, dragging his bare toe through the sand. “Hey, sorry about that guy Ray,” he says. “I didn’t really know him, but it still sucks.”

  “Yeah.” Holly narrows her eyes as she looks up into the tall palm trees that line the bluffs on the beach. “It does suck.” It’s a grand understatement, and a reminder of what life and love and loss mean to someone at Logan’s young age. It’s also a reminder to her of what life and love and loss mean at her own age, and Holly has a sudden urge to get some thoughts down in writing before they flee her mind.

  “Listen, I need to get back to the office and work on something. Would you mind helping me move this kayak up to the HoHo Hideaway over there?” Holly points at Joe Sacamano’s bar in the distance. “I’ll come back later and strap it to my cart to take it home, but right now I just need to get back to the B&B before it gets too late.”

  “Sure,” Logan says. They each pick up a side of the heavy plastic boat and lug it over to the HoHo.

  “We can leave it here. Want me to drop you back at home?”

  Logan glances up at the sky, squinting. “Nah,” he says. “I don’t mind the walk. Thanks again, Holly.”

  Before she can stop herself, the word is out of her mouth. “Anytime.”

  “Really?” Logan asks, his face hopeful. “Anytime?”

  Holly is already walking to her golf cart. “Well, sometimes I have to work,” she says, trying to make a joke of it. “But if I’m not working, sleeping, or being mayor, then we might be able to head out in the kayak.”

  “I’ll check in with you tomorrow to see if you’re busy. I’ve got your number in my phone!” Logan says, holding one hand up in farewell. “See ya!”

  Holly waves at him, laughing to herself as she watches the teenage boy move down the sand on his stork-like legs, a red burn smeared across the b
ack of his neck from the brief time he’s spent in the tropical sun.

  “See ya,” she says quietly, letting her hand drop to her side.

  The thoughts that she wants to get into writing are all over the place, and Holly’s still at her desk long after Bonnie is gone for the evening.

  Her first message is a draft of an email that she’s planning to send to River, but she wants to make sure that it says everything she feels, and with the wisdom of someone who’s given in to the itchy trigger finger and sent an email or two when she really should have just slept on it, she saves the rough draft and moves on.

  The next message is a response to one that she got earlier in the spring. The nature of being mayor of Christmas Key means that she gets offers and ideas thrown at her pretty regularly, and she always vets each one carefully before accepting or refusing. This particular offer had come in as she was handling the aftermath of Wild Tropics, and Holly had responded vaguely and filed it away in her email folder labeled “Possibilities.”

  The idea had come to her as she’d paddled offshore with Logan that afternoon, looking back at her beloved island with the eyes of a visitor. It wasn’t often that she got to just bob in the clear blue water and admire Christmas Key from a distance, and as she’d looked at the HoHo Hideaway with its grassy roof and rustic frame, she’d seen something in that view of the island that fit into a corner of her mind that had been waiting for a missing puzzle piece.

  I’d love to talk to you more about this possibility, Holly writes, her fingers tapping at the keys as she sits in the semi-darkened office. I think the time is right to consider what you’ve proposed, and I’m certainly open to having a discussion at some point in the near future.

  Holly reaches for the bottle of water on her desk and uncaps it. She takes a swig and goes back to typing, signing off and giving it a final read-through before hitting send.

  “Okay,” she says to herself, powering down the laptop and closing the lid. “We’ll see what happens.”

  Holly slips out the side door of the B&B and climbs into her cart in the parking lot. The sun is almost gone for the evening, and the pink blush on the horizon means that she needs her headlamps on for the drive home.

  “Hey,” comes a voice from the sidewalk as Holly switches on her cart. “You never called me back today.”

  It’s Jake.

  “Oh. Hey.” Holly turns the cart off and waits as he approaches, both hands in the pockets of his black shorts. He’s still wearing his work shirt and black shoes, and even in the near darkness and with all that’s happened between them, Holly has to admit to herself that he’s devastatingly handsome. Her first instinct is to switch the cart on and put it in drive. To get away from him as quickly as possible. To save herself from the dangerous emotions that still come up in his presence.

  “You don’t have time for me, but I hear you had time for a date with another man this afternoon.” There’s an amused smile playing on Jake’s lips.

  “I didn’t have a date,” Holly protests. “Ohhh, right. Logan,” she says, realizing what’s causing Jake to hold in a laugh. “Yeah, real hot date.” She rolls her eyes. “You caught me.”

  “Listen, I want to talk to you.” Jake puts one foot on the passenger side of Holly’s cart like he’s about to step up and sit on the bench seat next to her. Instead, he puts one hand on the roof and gazes down at her. “It’s been a crazy year, and I still think we have some unresolved stuff to work through.”

  Holly fights the urge to sigh loudly. There will always be “unresolved stuff” between her and Jake, but she’s accepted that and is prepared to live without full resolution forever, if necessary.

  “Jake,” she says, reaching to switch on the cart again. “It’s late—”

  “It’s not even nine,” he says, turning his wrist so that he can look at the face of his watch. “And I know for a fact that Buckhunter would serve us something if we showed up at Jack Frosty’s.”

  Holly sits there and thinks. Going with Jake to the bar would mean what—that she’s ready to talk about their failed relationship? Or that she wants to hear about how things didn’t work out with Bridget, or about their lost baby? Even thinking about that makes her stomach feel a little unsettled, and Holly is ready to beg off without another thought.

  “How about if I talk and you listen?” Jake says. He hasn’t let go of her cart, and she knows the look in his eyes: it’s the one that’s there when he’s not ready to give in.

  “Fine,” Holly says, picking up her purse from the seat next to her and shutting off the headlights. “I guess I could eat something.”

  They sit at the bar counter at Jack Frosty’s that looks out onto Main Street and order two beers and a pile of nachos. Holly’s stomach is still twisting as she waits for Jake to come to the point, and when Buckhunter sets the plate between them, she picks one chip and nibbles at it nervously.

  “Here’s the thing about us, Hol,” Jake says without preamble, scooping a helping of chips and toppings onto one of the small plates that Buckhunter’s left for them. “When we’re both single, chances are good that we’re going to end up thinking we should give this another shot. It never fails with us.”

  Holly shoves the rest of the chip into her mouth and nods, chewing slowly so that she has an excuse not to speak.

  “But we’ve been down this road way too many times, and it never works.” Jake picks up his mug of beer and takes a long drink before setting it on the rough wood of the bar again. “So I’m going to propose right now that we end this thing for good.”

  Holly waits. This isn’t what she was expecting from Jake—at all. “You mean…”

  “Yeah, I mean we need to do anything and everything in our power to stop ourselves from climbing into bed together anytime we both find ourselves single.”

  “Oh.” It’s not that she’s gotten back from Europe and is already thinking about taking a roll in the hay with Jake, but he does have a point. They’ll most likely end up in a compromising position at some point, so long as they both stay single.

  “I mean it,” Jake says earnestly, grabbing a fork to spear a huge bite of seasoned meat and cheese off his plate. “Too much has happened since last year at this time, and at the very least, I don’t think you’re over River yet.”

  “I’m not,” Holly agrees, picking another single tostada chip from the platter. “I’ve only been home from our trip for a few days, and I have no idea how we left things. There’s no way I’d sleep with you right now, Jake.”

  It’s Jake’s turn to be surprised. “Oh.” He pauses in the middle of devouring another loaded bite of nachos. “Okay. Then that’s good.”

  This whole conversation has been a little awkward and totally unexpected. Holly laughs nervously. “Okay, then. I'm glad we got that settled. We’re not hooking up under any circumstances.” She picks up her mug of beer and holds it up in a toast. “I’ll drink to that.”

  Jake picks up his beer with a slight hesitation. “I mean…I didn’t expect you to be that happy about it, but sure, let’s drink to celibacy.”

  They clink glasses and take sips of their beer. “Right. Celibacy.” Holly lets her mind drift to the last night she spent with River, and a sudden sadness fills her as she realizes that her chances of waking up in the arms of a man in the near future have narrowed considerably in the past week. “So,” she says, rolling the dice and hoping that she doesn’t piss Jake off royally with this line of questioning. “Have you heard from Bridget lately?”

  Jake takes another bite, chews the whole thing, and swallows before he answers. “We got closure,” he says finally. “It’s all good.”

  Holly nods. Brushing her hands together to get the salt from the chips off her palms, she stands up. “Be right back,” she says. She puts a hand into the pocket of her shorts and digs out a quarter. At the jukebox, she chooses Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire” and throws a look behind the bar at Buckhunter. In response, he holds up a thumb as he flips a burger on the grill
. It’s their little routine, and she missed it while she was gone as much as she’s missed everything else about her life on the island. Rather than going directly back to Jake, Holly stands at the jukebox for a minute, one hand on each side of the machine as she scans the list of songs that are as familiar to her as the road she drives between her house and the B&B every day.

  “Nice choice,” Jake says when she returns to the stool next to his. “I thought you’d go with ‘Glory Days,’ but this is cool, too.”

  Outside on Main Street, one of the triplets walks by Jack Frosty’s, arm-in-arm with her husband. Together, Holly still second guesses herself sometimes when it comes to identifying which triplet she’s talking to, but when she sees them with their husbands, it’s always a dead giveaway. “Hey, Glen!” Holly calls out, waving at her friend.

  “Hi, sweetie,” Glen says, blowing Holly a kiss. “Good to have you home.” Glen and her husband keep strolling, and Holly and Jake go back to eating their nachos in companionable silence.

  “Hey,” Holly says when Springsteen is done wailing about being on fire. “I’m glad we got this all settled.”

  Jake takes the last few nachos off the platter and slides them onto his own plate. “What’s that?”

  “That you don’t want to sleep with me ever again,” she says coyly, reaching over to his plate to grab a chip. He slaps her hand lightly.

  “I didn’t say never again…did I?” Jake frowns.

  “That’s how I took it.”

  “Huh. Might need to rethink the way I phrase things.” The corner of Jake’s mouth pulls up into a smile. “But I do mean it for right now,” he says. “It’s way too complicated.”

  Holly’s smile fades and she grows serious. “You’re right. And neither one of us can afford to make our lives more complicated at this point.”

  They let a beat pass between them as they silently agree. “Anyhow,” Jake says, breaking the silence. He pushes the empty platter between them out of the way and leans an elbow on the counter. “What’s going on with the casino?”