“So . . .” John started again.
“Are you going out with him?” Char asked in a rush.
Darcy rolled her eyes and shushed her friend, worried about who might overhear, even though they were in a car with the windows rolled up. “Char, this isn’t middle school. We aren’t dating because we sat at lunch together.”
“But,” she continued after a moment, “he has my number, and, you know, we might meet up. I don’t know. It’s all in his hands,” she tried to sound nonchalant.
But how casual could a girl be when a good-looking man asked for her number?
Chapter Nine
“And that was it?” Char prodded the next morning.
“I think I need something stronger,” Darcy replied, looking down at the stale coffee in her mug.
She jumped off the bar stool in her kitchen, where for the past half hour she had been held captive, forced to relive and review her conversation with Eric for Char’s benefit. Darcy dropped her mug in the sink and turned to look at Char. But her best friend didn’t return her gaze. Char nibbled on her thumb, her eyes glazed over as she stared at something past Darcy’s right shoulder.
“Char, you coming? Do you want something?” Darcy asked.
“Wait? What? Huh?” Char shook herself and opened her eyes wide.
“I’m going into town. I need a mocha. Can we continue this conversation there? I need to get out. It’s a gorgeous day.”
“Oh, no, no, I can’t. John’s going to swing by to take me out in a bit.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrogate.
“I’ll see you later.”
“You’re not going to spend all day waiting by the phone, are you?”
“Me? I thought you would. You seem to be a lot more invested in this than I am.”
Char narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me for taking an interest in your life.”
Darcy bit her lip to keep from rolling her eyes. “I’m only teasing. But, you know, I’m taking some of your advice to heart.”
“You are?” Char crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair.
“Sure,” Darcy said with a shrug. “I’m not going to devote a lot of energy or stress on this. If he calls me, that’s great. If he doesn’t, that’s okay too. I have much bigger things to worry about in my life than this guy.”
“Really?” Char gasped.
“Char, I don’t have time to get . . . stressed about a guy again.”
Char opened her mouth to offer a retort but quickly shut it again.
“What? What is it?” Darcy crossed her arms over her chest.”
“Nothing,” Char shook her head.
Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Come on, out with it.”
“I was just going to say that you wouldn’t be so casual about this if it were . . .”
“Don’t go there,” Darcy held up her hands to stop her friend. “Don’t. Okay? You said I should be open to something casual and fun, right? If this guy calls me, that’s exactly the extent of the relationship.”
“But . . .”
Darcy closed her eyes and massaged her temples. “I know I don’t want to hear whatever you’re going to say. But say it anyway.”
“It looked like there was something between you and Ben. That didn’t seem so . . . casual,” Charlotte muttered.
“Doesn’t matter,” Darcy opened her eyes to stare directly into Char’s. “Okay? That doesn’t matter. Let me take you up on your advice. Let me try something fun. Everything in my life is upside down right now, thanks to Ben. I’m trying to move past all of that.”
Char nodded but kept her mouth shut.
“You sure you don’t want a mocha?” Darcy offered one more time.
“No, but thanks,” she said. “Are you actually going to get that tattoo? I mean, if Eric gives you the information?”
“Why not?” Darcy asked.
“Hello?” John’s voice called out.
Darcy froze, her mouth dropped open, and she locked eyes with Char. How much had he heard? Darcy bit her lip considering how incriminating her words had been.
Sorry, Char mouthed as John walked into the silent room.
“Am I interrupting something?” John asked, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.
Darcy forced herself to smile, and by habit she smoothed down her shirt and tucked her hair behind her ears.
“Just a coffee order. I’m going into town. Can I get you something?” Darcy continued.
John kissed Char on the cheek, and it struck Darcy how routine the gesture had become. Char leaned into him at the exact moment his lips made contact. It was casual and sweet.
“Sure, but do you want help? Can I carry it back with you?” John offered.
Darcy shook her head.
“No, no. That’s okay. I’ve got it,” she replied.
Darcy turned and left, grabbing her purse off the hook by the front door and nearly tripping over her feet as she forced herself out into the fresh air. She shut the door behind her and stopped it just before it slammed. Darcy took in a few deep breaths. Being interrupted by John and watching the intimacy between him and Char had her head spinning. Darcy closed her eyes, took in a deep breath of the fresh, pine-filled air, and put one foot in front of the other. The crunch of her steps on the gravel road relaxed her, calming her racing heart. She didn’t meet another soul along her walk into town, until she pushed open the door of the coffee shop and walked right into Eric.
“Hi.” Darcy said, startled. The impact had pushed her backward, but Eric reached out to grab her and right her.
“Hi,” he greeted her with a smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Darcy flushed and bit her lip. “It is the only coffee shop on the island.”
“Touché.”
Darcy nodded and smiled, unsure how to proceed. Would walking away from him be too rude? She shifted her weight uneasily from foot to foot. Despite Char’s worries, Darcy hadn’t been thinking about him. She hadn’t been up all night stressing about whether or not he would call her or what he thought about her. She’d fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep and hadn’t let herself stress out. But now, standing in front of him and seeing again just how handsome and cultured he is, Darcy wished she had. Maybe then she would have something to say. She wrapped her arms over her chest.
“Can I get you something?” Eric offered.
He turned to walk behind the counter. Darcy raised an eyebrow and her eyes darted around the room. She followed him, realizing for the first time since she’d walked in that they were entirely alone.
“What are you doing?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
“I work here,” he whispered back.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” Darcy puzzled aloud, her brow knitted in confusion.
“I’m not full time. Just as needed. What can I get you?”
“Two large black coffees and a large nonfat mocha.”
“Coming right up,” he replied.
Eric smoothly went about his work, Darcy involuntarily licking her lips as she watched.
“Are you on a job hunt today?” Eric turned to ask.
“No, I probably should be,” Darcy offered a rueful smile. She let herself relax, dropping her hands to her side and rolling her shoulders. “I’m giving myself a little time off for good behavior.”
Eric smiled back. “Good for you.”
Darcy leaned against her forearms on the counter. “To be honest, I don’t quite know what my next step is. And that’s . . . uncomfortable for me.”
Eric put the drinks on the counter in front of her, and she righted herself.
“It’s okay to be afraid,” he reached out to touch her hand. Darcy shivered at his touch.
“But don’t let that fear immobilize you,” he continued.
Darcy opened her mouth to speak, but she had nothing to say. He was right. Eric stopped stroking her hand and instead squeezed it.
The front door slammed agains
t the wall with a violent bang. Darcy jumped back and turned to see a woman and a larger-than-life man carrying boxes and laughing. She put a hand to her chest and forced herself to slow her breathing.
“Sorry, did we startle you? If Eric was better at his job, he would have left the back door open,” the man’s deep voice boomed in the empty room. “But I’d settle for helping me unload the truck now.”
“I’m helping a customer, Ed. This is clearly why Emily never asks for your help at the store. No customer service.”
“Just come help me.” Ed grumbled.
“I can help you check out.” The woman called over to her. She smiled at Darcy and bounded behind the counter.
Eric walked back toward the front, brushing against Darcy as he did. He stopped and whispered into her ear. “This is the buddy I was talking about. I’ll get the name and number for the tattoo artist and I’ll text you.”
Darcy smiled and whispered back, “I’d like that.”
Darcy felt Emily’s eyes on her, but when she turned to look, the woman quickly averted her gaze.
“Can I get you anything else?” she offered.
Darcy smiled and flushed, suddenly self-conscious that someone had witnessed their conversation. “Um . . . maybe a few of those scones?”
The woman smiled, put three in a bag, placed the bag next to the drinks, and rang up the order. Darcy kept her eyes on anything but the woman and didn’t turn back to follow’s Eric progress. She focused on the inanimate objects closest at hand. When the front door’s overhead bell rang, signaling that the two men had gone back outside, the woman stared at Darcy until she looked up.
“He’s a good guy. One of the best, actually.” She never wavered in her eye contact.
“I know,” Darcy replied. “I like him.” Darcy fought the urge to squirm under the intense scrutiny.
“Okay. I think I’ve done my job scaring you off,” she replied.
Darcy let her shoulders droop. “Yes, you have,” she agreed.
The woman turned her back on Darcy, and she stifled a sigh of relief that the interview had ended. Darcy thought she’d done pretty well, all things considered. The woman pulled out a carrier for the beverages. Darcy handed over her money and as the woman returned her change, she added. “But, if there is something going on with . . . your neighbor . . .” she leveled her stare at Darcy and Darcy gulped. “You need to be up front with him about it.”
Darcy shifted her weight from foot to foot. How small was this town? She didn’t know this woman’s name, and yet this woman knew about Ben? Were there cameras installed on the streets? How did everyone seem to know her business?
Darcy sucked in a breath, squared her shoulders again, and looked the woman dead in the eye.
“Eric would be the first and only person I would tell,” Darcy retorted. “Thanks for the drinks.”
The woman nodded but didn’t return the smile. After a moment, Darcy saw herself out.
- # -
Despite his best attempts, Ben couldn’t get his brother’s words out of his mind.
“You need to go over and apologize to her,” John lectured his brother the moment he saw him that morning.
Ben had groaned, walked over to the coffee pot, and tried to fill his favorite mug, only to find it in a sink full of dirty dishes.
“You need to start cleaning up after yourself,” Ben growled back.
“I’m serious,” John continued, more than a little put out by the whole situation. “She didn’t know it was Mom. She didn’t even know our last name. And you got her fired.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to apologize for something that I did when I don’t feel bad about it.”
“Then you’re an idiot,” John told him before walking out the door.
Ben heard the screen door slam shut and turned to wash the dishes and start the coffee. He refused to apologize when he didn’t see how he had been wrong. She’d gone after Mom and had taken advantage of her. More than that, she’d taken advantage of him. He’d invited her out to dinner and she’d turned him down because she’d already gotten everything she needed out of him, hadn’t she? She must have been on her way to Duluth the moment he’d asked. Water splashed out of the sink and onto the front of his shirt. He’d been lost in thought and had let the water run to overflowing. Ben turned off the faucet, stripped off his T-shirt, and threw it across the room.
He needed air.
Ben pushed open the front door and stood on his porch. He froze. Darcy, oblivious to his presence, walked down the street toward her town house, maybe thirty feet away. She hadn’t seen him and seemed to be returning from a coffee run in town. She carried three coffees in a carrier and a brown bag, no doubt filled with pastries. Darcy looked cheerful and he felt his blood boil.
Why did she get to smile and be happy when he was miserable? Shouldn’t she be miserable too? Hadn’t he gotten her fired? She’d wronged him, he told himself again to help prevent him from feeling any guilt in the situation.
Ben stepped off the porch into his driveway and caught her eye. The smile dropped off her face, replaced immediately with a scowl before she looked through him, as if he wasn’t even there. Saved from the trouble of waving hello, Ben, half-naked, set off to get his coffee on the same road Darcy had taken. He’d been awake for most of the night seething with fury at her and himself and his mother and the situation.
He’d toyed with the idea of calling Caitlyn. Loneliness had often led him to make stupid decisions. But he’d only gotten her to stop calling him a few days before. No matter how much easy fun she promised, it came at a steep price—one he was not willing to pay.
It’s not as if she’s a distraction from Darcy, Ben reminded himself.
Even thinking about Darcy made his blood boil. He clenched and unclenched his fists. He wanted to hit something. He hated everything about his situation. But maybe John had a point.
Ben walked alone into the coffee shop, barked out his order to the barista, then turned around, and marched himself home. He was not fit company. He packed up an overnight bag, left John a note, and walked down to the yacht club.
A couple days of peace and solitude on his boat, cruising around the islands was exactly what he needed.
Chapter Ten
Darcy turned off County Highway J onto Valley Road and instantly felt lost. Following the directions Eric had texted her down a packed dirt two-lane road through forest-covered hills with only the occasional building had her anxious that she’d already missed the turn. Getting lost would give her a chance to back out of getting a tattoo. Maybe Charlotte had made the decision, but Darcy hadn’t fought her on it. She wanted to see it through. She wanted to accomplish something she’d been talking about for years. Darcy was determined to ignore her fear of the pain and get inked.
“Look,” Char suddenly exclaimed, sitting up straight and pointing at the sign for Compton Road.
An overpowering surge of anticipation and apprehension left Darcy frazzled, as she made the turn.
She drove up a gravel road, past neat, even rows of apple trees, and pulled into the parking lot in front of a charming white clapboard house with green shutters. The shutters had small hearts cut into them, making them more adorable then functional, and she could see the green-and-white gingham on the curtains through the windows. It was exactly the kind of sweet house where you’d expect to find a storybook character.
Darcy parked the car and looked at Char in disbelief. She shrugged her shoulders, gave Darcy an apologetic half smile, and got out of the car. Darcy sighed and followed her. As she locked the car, the door to the cottage opened, and Marjorie stepped out onto her front stoop, silently appraising the pair as they did the same to her.
She stood five feet and maybe weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. Her hair was completely white and cut short in a pageboy. She wore a light blue gingham apron over a crisp white oxford shirt and full navy-blue skirt. Darcy couldn’t help but wonder if Marjorie had ever worn jeans. Darcy
couldn’t see any tattoos and was starting to wonder about the information she’d been given. She stifled her feelings and smiled at the older lady. There was no need to be rude because someone had led her on a wild goose chase.
“Hi, I’m Darcy, and this is my friend Charlotte,” she said moving away from the car to shake her hand. “And you must be Marjorie?”
Confusion passed over her features for a moment before she found her voice. “Marjorie? No, I’m her twin sister Marcelina. Hold on, I’ll go in and get her for you.”
As she left, Darcy nearly sagged from relief. She turned to look at Char.
Thank God, she mouthed, her eyes wide for emphasis.
Seriously, Darcy mouthed back with an accompanying shake of her head.
About five minutes later, Marcelina returned with Marjorie in tow. Marjorie had dyed her white hair red. Not red as in redhead but red as in fire engine. She had cut her bangs to reach from one ear to the other in a solid row of fringe, and the rest of her hair fell to her shoulders. Double piercings in both ears, a cartilage piercing in her right ear, and her dainty, pert, porcelain doll nose had been pierced above the left nostril. Darcy felt sure she at least had her tongue pierced, if not more, although Darcy would be too scared to ask.
Her style was an interesting combination of biker leather, hippie chick, and classic grandma. She wore a tight black leather vest over a flowing tie-dyed peasant dress. On her feet were those awful sensible shoes favored by grandmas and British matrons. Seeing her in those shoes was disheartening. It was proof that wearing those shoes in old age was as inevitable as the sagging of boobs. But the most surprising thing about Marjorie was that Darcy didn’t see any tattoos.
Marjorie stood on the porch next to her sister, pulled out her pack of cigarettes from a vest pocket, lit one, and began to blow smoke rings as she stared at us. Darcy half expected Marjorie to ask who they were in the mode of the smoking caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. She smoked to the clear displeasure of her sister, who attempted in vain to waft the smoke away. Finally, Marcelina gave up and moved to stand off the porch with the women, a safe enough distance to prevent getting smoke blown in one’s face. Marcelina seemed annoyed and unlikely to do the introductions, so Darcy took charge of the situation.
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