by Lisa Jackson
“Fond of me? Fond of me? Jesus Christ.”
“I can’t deal with this right now,” Celia said. She went back to packing. A couple pair of jeans, underwear and bras, T-shirts, and two nice dresses. How long would she be gone? She had no idea. She picked up speed, throwing whatever looked good into her case.
Ben was still pacing the room. He stopped. Tried to communicate in gestures and half-phrases. “Are you. Did you. Did we. Was that a breakup?”
“I’m sorry, Ben. I can’t give you any answers.” He came up, took a silk blouse out of her hands, and whirled her around to face him.
“You’re very fond of me. You don’t think that was an answer?”
“I didn’t mean to. I wanted to love you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I mean it. I figured that ‘in love’ feeling was for kids. That with adults, you had to be more rational about it.”
“I wasn’t rational about you. I was crazy about you.”
“I’m sorry, Ben.”
“You don’t look sorry. You looked flushed.”
Flushed? Because she was thinking about Jacob. All these years and he still turned her insides into gurgling lava.
“Oh my God. This is about some boy, isn’t it? Some childhood crush?” Celia just stared at Ben. He lifted his finger and actually shook it at her. She wanted to bite it off. “You are really, really losing it.”
“First of all—it wasn’t just a childhood crush—” She stopped short of telling the story of how she lost her virginity on Hampton Beach. To one of the Vernon twins. If only she knew for sure which one. Yes, best keep that story under lock and key. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to be crazy in love with me.”
“I wanted that too.”
“But you’re not.”
“Do you want me to lie?”
“Like you’ve obviously been doing for the past seven years? No, thanks.” Ben headed for the door. He stopped at the threshold, but kept his back to her. “I’m sorry about your father. But think long and hard about this, Celia. I don’t give second chances. And ninety-nine percent of the time? Neither does life.”
CHAPTER 3
Celia stood on the boardwalk, breathing in the salt air mixed with coconut suntan lotion, feeling the sun kiss her shoulders, and listening to the waves crash on the shore. It was music to the senses. An orchestra of memory. It was all still here. The arcade hall. The ice cream shop. The giant greasy burgers with fries, the shops selling beach towels and shells and surfboards. Although as kids they had never needed a board; body surfing was the sport. It was how the twins first saw her breasts. Chris got a glimpse of the left one when a wave took her bikini top down, and Jacob saw the right one the day after when Celia pulled her top down and pretended a wave took it down.
It was comforting to see that with the exception of a few new shops, and eateries, the boardwalk remained the same. Celia purposefully avoided walking right past the arcade, given what she’d found out about the new owners. A quick Internet search was all it had taken to learn that Chris and Jacob did indeed live in Hampton Beach still. She could see the sign above the arcade from here. TWIN-CADES.
Chris and Jacob owned the joint now.
Chris was married with three kids. Jacob, from what she could tell, was not. Unfortunately, no pictures of them; she was dying to know if they were still the type of men who turned heads. She’d find out, but it wasn’t going to be just after arriving, squinting in the sun. It was strange to be back. As Celia checked into the motel, she wondered whatever became of the mobile home park where she had lived with her father. Elizabeth Tanner had owned the mobile park back then. But Celia wasn’t going to think about Elizabeth right now. First, she was just going to relax and relive the good memories. Which is why she had splurged on the best motel on the boardwalk. Her room had a view of the ocean. She threw her suitcase on the bed and stepped onto the balcony with the Chock full o’Nuts can.
Hold your head up high. Her father used to say that all the time. Usually after she cried and he bought her ice cream. She set the coffee can on a little table situated between two chairs. She would eventually have to spread his ashes in the ocean as he’d always requested, but for now just carrying the coffee can around made her feel like her father was with her. She had even bought a little beach tote, and she was going to stick him in there for all of her “meetings.” Celia took a shower and changed into a peach sundress and wedge sandals. She was proud of herself as she applied her makeup. She’d held up well over the years. Her figure was still lovely, and other than a few more lines, she was still the same green-eyed, chestnut-haired girl. The agenda tonight was simply to walk the boardwalk with Dad, get a bite to eat, and enjoy. She’d figure out her game plan tomorrow.
The sand was soft and welcoming. Celia carried her sandals and walked right along the tide line so the waves could kiss the tops of her feet. The tote with her dad’s ashes was slung over her shoulder. She stopped to take it all in. She could feel her dad’s presence as she stared out at the mighty Atlantic. Although she hadn’t been raised in religious households, Celia was always confident there was something out there. An energy, if nothing else, that survived and continued. She’d always felt it the strongest when she was right here at the edge of the ocean. How had she lived without it all these years?
Next Celia bought a hot dog on the boardwalk and loaded it up with everything she used to love. Sauerkraut, mustard, and ketchup. She devoured it and wanted another, but she was going for a fancy dinner this evening, so pacing herself was only wise. She set off to walk off the hot dog, knowing with every step exactly where she was headed.
Located just a half a block from the boardwalk, with sweeping ocean views, at the time, Elizabeth Tanner’s corner house had been the best in the area. In Celia’s opinion, it still was. Ocean House, as the locals referred to it, was a three-story Victorian Colonial with two sets of wraparound balconies, five bedrooms, and three bathrooms. Or so she’d been told. Celia had never been allowed inside. She stood across the street, staring at it, as the old humiliation washed over her. She had come for the first time with Jacob and Chris; the three of them had ridden the waves and walked the boardwalk before heading to Ocean House. Chris and Jacob had to pick up a check from Mrs. Tanner. Celia remembered the walk like it was yesterday. Celia was beyond excited; she’d been dying to see the inside of Ocean House since she and her father had arrived. And she’d never known a woman like Elizabeth, so powerful and beautiful. Celia had actually practiced what she might say to her. You have such a lovely home. Or, Your taste is exquisite. Judging from the way Elizabeth dressed and did her hair and nails, the home had to be remarkable. The word exquisite was sure to impress Mrs. Tanner. Celia was a voracious reader and loved any opportunity to try out new vocabulary. Regardless, compared to her RV, Ocean House was a like an enchanted castle.
So there they were, headed for it. Celia in her hot pink flip-flops, and towel wrapped around her, the boys shoeless and shirtless, a few paces ahead of her. Mrs. Tanner stood on her third-story balcony with a drink in one hand, Kool cigarette in the other, literally (and figuratively) looking down on them. Celia hoped she would offer them lemonade. Elizabeth Tanner was known for her lemonade.
Elizabeth disappeared into the house and reappeared at the front door just as Chris laid on the buzzer. Now Celia was hoping she could use the restroom. How horrible that at just the thought of lemonade, she desperately had to go. Should she say how exquisite it was before or after she used the bathroom? Elizabeth swung the door open and smiled at Chris and Jacob. She waved them in, and kept a lingering hand on Jacob’s shoulder. Then, just as Celia was about to step in after them, Elizabeth blocked the door with her body. Celia felt a flush of embarrassment. Celia had never stood so close to a grown woman wearing a bikini. Elizabeth was so tan too. Celia looked pale in comparison. She half wondered why Elizabeth even wore a bikini; Celia was at the beach every single day and she’d never actually seen
Elizabeth there. Instead, Elizabeth preferred to sit out on her balcony with her binoculars.
“Did you speak with your father?” The previous week Elizabeth Tanner had made it obvious that she wanted a date with Pete Jensen. And she had fully expected Celia to cooperate.
“Yes. He’s mighty busy right now, but he appreciates your interest,” Celia had said as politely as she could. Actually, what her father had said was—“That shrill, peroxided barracuda? In her dreams.” Celia thought it was mighty nice of her not to repeat it verbatim. Elizabeth was petite, but the minute the words left Celia’s mouth, the woman seemed to grow to ten feet tall. Her nostrils actually flared.
“You can’t come in. You have sandy feet.” Celia looked down at her feet. They were clean. She always rinsed them in the spigot on the boardwalk. And housed in flip-flops. Chris and Jacob, on the other hand, who Elizabeth had already waved into the house, were barefoot. “Say hello to your father,” Elizabeth Tanner called out just before she slammed the door in Celia’s face. Celia walked away, humiliated. She’d only gone a block when she heard someone shout her name. She stopped to see Jacob running toward her.
“She wouldn’t let me in,” Celia said.
“I just found out,” Jacob said. She tingled every time Jacob was near. He had come out for her. Did this mean he liked her too?
“Where’s Chris?”
“She has ice cream,” Jacob said.
Even better than lemonade. “You didn’t want any?”
“Nah,” Jacob said. “Brain freeze.” She’d seen Jacob eating ice cream plenty of times. It gave her an unexpected thrill. She had never known she could make a boy give up ice cream for her. The headiness of it was almost like brain freeze. “Come on,” he said. “Race you back.”
Twenty years later here she stood, across the street. At first glance nothing much had changed about the house. It was still painted yellow with white shutters. Its view was still unfettered. There was, however, at least one very remarkable difference, and it had to do with the small front yard. Celia couldn’t believe what she was seeing. There, staked front and center, was a definite sign. FOR SALE.
Ten minutes later Celia was sitting in the realtor’s office, only two blocks away. The minute she stepped into the small but cozy space she was greeted by a reed-thin woman who shook her hand and introduced herself as Anna Beth. She escorted Celia to a chair, sat behind a desk across from it, and hit her with a high-beamed sales smile. “Are you in the market for a vacation rental or a permanent home?”
“I’m here about the yellow house on the corner with the ocean view.”
“It’s fabulous, isn’t it? You’re in luck. I have the keys, and it’s available to show—”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll take it.”
“Pardon?” The woman’s smile faded just a touch. She cocked her head at Celia as if she were prepared to press an emergency button under the desk if Celia said or did anything else strange.
“I’ll take it.”
“You’ve seen it before then?”
“Just from the outside.”
“Okay. And you don’t want to see the inside?”
“ No.”
“Are you a developer?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“I have to tell you, the property isn’t zoned for business.”
“That’s fine.”
“Do you even know the listing price?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“Why don’t you have your realtor make an offer and fax it to me.”
“Aren’t you a realtor?”
“Of course. But I represent the buyer—”
“Elizabeth Tanner?”
“You know the owner. Are you family?”
“Old-timer.”
“What is your name, doll?”
“Celia Jensen.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Of course it doesn’t. Because I was just the daughter of a good-looking handyman accused of stealing. If she said “handyman and diamond ring,” the woman would know her, all right. Celia didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted that the woman didn’t realize who she was. Not that Celia knew Anna Beth either. Celia hadn’t been much into real estate back then. “When I was a kid I lived here for five summers.”
“Well. Here’s the list price.” Anna Beth slid a brochure across the desk. The price was in bold letters at the top. It was quite an asking. Celia felt Anna Beth staring at her with pity. What? Because she was in a sundress and flip-flops she wasn’t a serious buyer? Celia didn’t look like an investment banker because she didn’t want to look like one. She had the money. But just. It would wipe out her savings, and her stock, and she’d have nothing to live on until she and Ben sold the condo. “The price is firm,” Anna Beth said as if she could see Celia wrestling with dollar signs.
“I’m sure it is,” Celia mused. Elizabeth didn’t back down. Even when she was dead wrong.
“Elizabeth turned down the sweetest couple for coming in five thousand less than the asking price. She was so insulted she wouldn’t even counter offer.” Anna Beth threw her arms up as if in defeat.
“That sounds like her.” Celia would have to watch it before her bias spilled all over the place.
“If you want me to represent you as well, I can certainly do that. You’ll save on commission, but it will have to be a full-price offer.”
“Great.”
“But I insist that you see the house.”
“No, thank you.” Celia didn’t want to step a single foot into the house until she owned it. She would walk in with ice cream and lemonade. She would go to the restroom. Then, ice cream in one hand, lemonade in the other, she would walk from room to room murmuring, “Exquisite.”
Anna Beth leaned back and crossed her arms. “This is highly unusual.”
“Can you tell me why she’s selling?”
“I’m afraid it’s the economy.” So Elizabeth hadn’t bagged another rich man. Did it make Celia an awful person that she was happy to hear it?
“Does she still live on the property?”
“Yes. She needs a sixty-day closing.”
“She has ten days.” Let the witch go live in an RV.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll pay the full asking price, in cash. But only if she vacates in ten days.”
“I see. Would you hold on a moment?”
“Certainly.”
Anna Beth took out a cell phone and immediately disappeared outside. From the window, Celia watched her pace and talk. Celia lifted the coffee can out of her bag. “You aren’t going to believe this.” She patted the can, then quickly replaced it as the realtor came back inside. “Elizabeth can’t possibly vacate in ten days.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Celia said.
“What about thirty days?”
“I’m afraid my offer is ten days or nothing.”
“Why don’t you fill out an application and let me take a look at your financials. If it all checks out, we’ll get back to you in twenty-four hours.” Celia hesitated. Elizabeth Tanner would remember her name. Would she sell the house if she knew Celia was the buyer?
“I prefer she doesn’t know my name until it’s all said and done.”
Anna Beth fixed Celia with a laser-like gaze. “Did she sleep with your boyfriend?”
“What?”
Anna Beth moved closer and closer to Celia. “You’re too young for it to be a husband. Your brother? Your father?”
“Let’s just focus on the sale, okay?”
“Every summer, you say?” Anna Beth said. She tapped her upper lip with her index finger, then sat on the edge of her desk and leaned in. “Was your father a hunk?”
“Not my usual way of describing him, but—”
“Pete Jensen!”
Celia took a deep breath. Would this realtor be on her side if she told her, or would she immediately rat her out to Elizabeth? “Yes.”
&
nbsp; “Oh my God. Of course he was a hunk. How is he? Is he here?” Anna Beth sat up straighter and fluffed her hair. Celia could almost feel the coffee can vibrating with laughter.
“He passed away recently.”
Anna Beth looked truly shocked. “Oh my God. I am so, so sorry.”
Celia was touched by her genuine reaction. “Thank you. It was his final request that I come back to Hampton Beach.”
“Oh my God. Did he want you to buy the house?”
“I’m pretty sure he would. He believed in karma.”
“I do too. I totally believe in karma.”
“So can you make a cash sale without revealing my name?”
But Anna Beth wasn’t ready to move on. “So young. What happened?”
Celia hesitated. Her father had been larger than life. It wasn’t fitting to be taken out by cigarettes. “He was scuba diving. In the Fiji Islands.”
“Oh, my.”
“He died doing what he loved.”
“So wonderful.” Anna Beth looked around guiltily, then lowered her voice. “How exactly did he die?” she whispered.
“Shark,” Celia shouted. Anna Beth’s hand flew over her mouth.
“Shark?” Anna Beth repeated.
“I told him to use the cage. He wouldn’t do it.”
“He was a man,” Anna Beth said, her voice low and slightly hoarse.
It was totally awkward, the sexual way in which Anna Beth said “man.” Although, truth be told, it was the way Celia would have said it when referring to Jacob. Maybe there was something about the salt air that made all the women of Hampton Beach absolutely man crazy. Celia didn’t want to blow this, so she kept her dry heaves to herself.
“My God,” Anna Beth said. Apparently, she was still imagining Pete Jensen in the jaws of a shark.
There. That should distract Anna Beth from bringing up the diamond ring fiasco. “So. Will you help me?” Celia asked.
“I’m not sure Elizabeth Tanner would want to sell to you.”
“I know she wouldn’t. Which is why she doesn’t need to know. I’m a cash buyer. You can represent me.”