by Lisa Jackson
“I’ll see what I can do,” Anna Beth said.
“My father would be so thrilled.”
She heard back by the end of the day. Ocean House would be hers. Elizabeth wanted two weeks to vacate. Celia conceded. In two weeks she would be living in the same place as Jacob Vernon. In the house she had been banned from. She really could feel her father smiling down on her. Karma. Sometimes life not only gave second chances, it delivered them on a silver platter.
CHAPTER 4
Celia turned the key at exactly midnight on the day she was allowed to take possession of Ocean House. She purposefully walked in the sand before entering. You can’t come in. Your feet are all sandy. With the coffee can tucked under her arm, a new floppy hat on her head, and plenty of sand on her feet, Celia Jensen stepped into the foyer of her new home. A piercing shriek rang out, startling Celia, jarring every nerve in her body. A security alarm. It reached an excruciating decibel level and then continued to pulse. Celia slapped her hands over her ears, and the coffee can dropped out of her hands and clattered to the ground. Sorry, Dad. What was going on? The realtor didn’t tell her about an alarm. It was so loud. Were they hoping to make the burglar deaf? Celia couldn’t see a thing in the dark. She groped along the wall to find a switch. She flipped it, but instead of illuminating the interior, the porch glowed with a soft, yellow light. People on the sidewalk stopped to gawk. If she were a burglar, she was in no danger of being tackled by a passerby, but they were staring long and hard enough to pick her out of a lineup. She slammed the door shut and headed down the hall. Just a few feet from the entrance a control panel was built into the wall. Celia stared helplessly at the numbers. A childhood chant echoed through her mind. One potato, two potato, three potato, four. Very helpful. Thank you. Next, her mother came to mind, lying on the couch with a cold compress, after a night of drinking. That noise! she would say if Celia even tried to walk across the floor. I can’t take that noise!
Her grand opening was ruined. The coffee can was on its side on the floor, but the lid was still on tight. Celia slid down the wall and sat on the floor. She scooped the can off the floor, ran out to the front porch for some relief, and waited with the moths fluttering by the light.
It took twenty-five minutes for a security guard to show up at the door. Some security company—the place would have been wiped clean by now. Not to mention he was way too skinny to intimidate any burglar, and he wasn’t armed.
“Make it stop,” Celia said. The young man nodded, headed inside for the security panel, then turned to her once he reached it.
“Do you know the code?” He was completely serious. Celia stared at him. He stared back.
“Why wouldn’t I have shut it off if I knew the code?” Celia yelled over the beeps.
“Do you live here?”
“No. I’m breaking in. Hope you don’t mind assisting in my life of crime.”
“You’re breaking in?”
Seriously. The beach could be too relaxing for some folk. This kid should be selling self-serve ice cream on the boardwalk. That wasn’t an insult; the job came with free ice cream. “It was a joke. I own this house. I just bought it.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“Make it stop.”
The kid ambled up to the panel. “I don’t know the code.” He pushed a few buttons. The piercing scream continued.
“If you don’t know the code, why are you pushing buttons?”
“Sometimes I get lucky.”
Wish I could say the same.
“I’ll have to call it in,” he said.
Wasn’t he the one who had been called in? She wasn’t in a big city anymore. She’d have to be patient. On second thought, maybe she’d get lucky for a change. She marched over to the panel and began pounding on it.
“Hey, hey. Don’t break it.”
“Oh, I’m going to break it all right. I’m going to rip it out of the wall.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” For a split second she wondered how the kid’s voice suddenly got so rich and deep. She whirled around. A tall, muscular man with dark wavy hair stood in the doorway. Heart-stoppingly good-looking. It was him. Or his brother. It wasn’t fair to have that kind of magnetism. Chris or Jacob? Her heartbeat increased. It was Jacob. Chris never fired up every nerve cell in her body. Never made her heart flutter. Her brain couldn’t always tell them apart, but her body could. No. It was too soon. She wanted to control every aspect of the meeting. God, the very nearness of him. Those green eyes, that strong jawline. She could gaze at him all day. And she had always loved his height. Made her feel petite. And predatory.
“Jacob?” Celia said.
He frowned. “You have an advantage.” He didn’t recognize her. Definitely Jacob. Chris would’ve been miffed that she had mistaken him for his brother. Chris had always thought he was the better-looking one, even though sometimes their own father couldn’t tell them apart. What an egomaniac. And capable of being plain cruel. This was definitely Jacob. “And you are?” Jacob said when Celia didn’t introduce herself.
She was crushed. She had thought, somehow, he would just know her. She would’ve known him anywhere. Maybe she was the only one who had been madly in love. It wasn’t right. The universe was upside down. Life doesn’t give second chances. “I’m the new owner,” Celia said. She turned away, so he wouldn’t see how emotional she was getting. What was he doing here?
“Would you like me to shut it off?”
“I’d love you forever,” Celia said. Oh God, did she just say that? So much for sweeping in and playing it cool.
“That won’t be necessary,” Jacob said without even cracking a smile. He went straight for the security panel. Oh God. He wasn’t even attracted to her anymore. Not that she cared. He finished punching in numbers, and the obnoxious blare finally ceased.
“Oh, thank heavens,” Celia said. She took off her hat. Silly of her to wear it this late. When she looked up, Jacob was staring at her.
“Celia?” he said. “Celia Jensen?”
Celia’s heart soared. It had just been the hat. He did know her. Once upon a time they did exist. Once upon a time they had been in love. “Hello, Jacob.” Celia grinned.
“My God. Celia Jensen.” Jacob began walking toward her. Celia kept still and held her breath. She wanted to touch him so badly. He stopped about a foot from her. Just a little closer and they could be kissing. “You’re the new owner?”
Celia lifted her foot. “With sand on my feet.”
Jacob threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” she said.
“Call me if you need anything else,” the security kid said. Celia had forgotten he was even there. Jacob and Celia fell silent until the kid was out the door. Once he was, Jacob’s eyes landed on her, and they locked eyes for a very long time. Jacob Have I Loved....
Jacob looked at the floor. Was he gathering his strength or trying to hold something back? He looked upset. Hurt. Was that possible? Had he remained as attached to her as she had to him? Since it wasn’t appropriate to throw herself into his arms and nuzzle his neck, Celia tried to lighten the mood instead.
“New Hampshire’s finest, eh?” Celia said.
“What?”
“The security guard. The security kid, I should say.”
“He’s Elizabeth Tanner’s grandson.”
“Emily’s son?” Celia’s heart stopped in her chest. Elizabeth had a daughter, Emily. Just a few years younger than Celia, Emily used to follow her around like a shadow. Mostly because she was in love with Chris, and the twins were always hanging around Celia. Was Emily old enough to have a son that age?
“No, no. A grandson by marriage.”
“Ah.” So Elizabeth was remarried. Was that why she was selling the house? Celia had really hoped it was financial troubles as Anna Beth had said. Normally Celia would feel guilty for such a thought, but not when it came to Elizabeth Tanner.
Jacob bent down and handed Celia the c
offee can. She took it with a slight smile. “Thanks.” She headed down the hall, then stopped. “I have no idea where the kitchen is,” she said.
Jacob laughed. “I heard you bought it without seeing the inside. I thought Anna Beth was pulling a fast one.”
“Would you be so kind as to give me a tour?” She linked arms with Jacob. Forget being angry. This was Jacob. He was here.
Jacob glanced at the coffee tin in her arms. “Only if you make some of that coffee,” Jacob said.
“I don’t think my father would approve,” Celia said.
“I don’t think my father would approve,” Celia said. Identical twins stood just outside the door of the RV. Hello, Hampton Beach. They were gorgeous. Soooooooooo gorgeous. They were even better looking than the boys she’d cut out of Teen Beat and taped to her wall. And they had just asked her to go to the beach.
“Is he here?” one said with a smile that could set a whole town on fire.
“No,” Celia said as a blush spread up her neck.
“Then there’s nothing to approve, is there?” Celia allowed the boy to pin her with his gaze, then glanced at the other one. He was looking elsewhere. The shy brother.
“I’m Chris,” the exuberant one said. “This is Jacob.”
“Jacob Have I Loved,” Celia said.
“What?” Chris shouted. “She loves you, dude.” He hit his brother on the back. Jacob turned a hundred shades of red. So did Celia for that matter.
“No,” she said. She reached around the corner, which was the great thing about living in an RV, and put her hands on the book propped on the counter. She held it up. Jacob Have I Loved, by Katherine Paterson. She had bought it at a yard sale on their way here. Ironically, it was about twins too, but twin girls. Celia tried to tell them about the book, but they didn’t seem interested.
“Got any books with my name on them?” Chris asked.
“No,” Celia said. She wanted to say something a little more clever, but she couldn’t think of anything but the fact that her friend Amy was going to die when she heard about this. Did she have film left in her Polaroid? She would have to mail Amy a picture. Thanks, Dad. I love New Hampshire! And they’re talking to me! They’re talking to me! At least one of them was talking. So why was it the quiet one who was making everything inside her go ZING!? She couldn’t believe she was reading a book with the name Jacob in the title, and here was a Jacob at her front door. Was this fate? She never knew it could be so kind.
“Grab a suit,” Chris said. “Preferably a bikini.” At this, Jacob lifted his head and made eye contact. Celia felt it again. A jolt, like an electric current as their eyes locked. No, her dad would definitely not approve. Should she wear the black bikini or the red?
The house was just as she’d always imagined. The first floor consisted of a large main living room. Its focal points were a marble fireplace and bay windows that looked out onto the wraparound porch and ocean beyond. The hardwood floors could use a little sanding and the light blue paint on the walls wasn’t to her taste, but they would be easy to fix. Then again, Celia thought beach houses looked best if they were a tad rustic. This wasn’t the Hamptons, nor did Celia want it to be. It looked the type of room that was just begging for a piano, and lots and lots of people standing around and singing.
“It hasn’t changed.” Startled, Celia glanced at Jacob. He looked into her eyes. There was that old, familiar jolt. It was still electric between them. And emotional. He remembered, obviously, how she’d been shunned. All these years later and she could see affection in his eyes. He still cared about her. He’d never know how much that meant to her. She couldn’t look at him too long, because it only took seconds before a current of desire began humming through her body. She’d never had such a passionate night as that first time, under the boardwalk. And here he was, close enough to touch, and she just wanted to do it again, right now. It wasn’t possible that she had slept with Chris. It just wasn’t.
“What kind of furniture did she have?” Celia said. Not that she cared. She was trying to prevent herself from going over to Jacob and pulling off his shirt. Ripping it down the middle. Running her hands over his arms and chest. Seriously, that body. He still looked as if he had stepped right out of a poster. And he still looked at her as if she were the only girl in the world. Maybe it was nostalgia. There was something so special about the fact that he had known her as a young girl. Coming of age—the first to de—
“Flowery,” Jacob said suddenly.
“What?” Celia was completely startled. Could Jacob read minds now?
“Elizabeth had fake flower stuff all over the place. Even the sofa. It was big, and stuffy, and flowery.”
“Oh. The sofa.”
“Everything else was kind of clunky too.”
“You’re kidding.” Celia had pictured expensive and sleek. Plastic on the couch and such.
“Nope. I should know. Just helped haul it all out.”
“You did?” Celia couldn’t hide her surprise. He was doing Elizabeth favors?
“She needed all the help she could get. Apparently you said it was fourteen days or no deal.”
Actually, I said ten. I agreed to fourteen. “Right,” Celia said. She wandered from the main room to a small dining room behind it. Not wanting to linger with Jacob on her heels, she continued through to the kitchen. It was a nice rectangular space. Way too simple, but again, it could all be fixed. White tiled floors and old appliances, but it was large enough to fit an island in the middle. Celia would redo the floors, put in new appliances, throw paint on the walls, and get a table big enough for ten to sit around. Above the sink two windows faced the back. Beach space was tight, so there was no backyard, just a strip of grass and then an alley. From here she could see the backs of the houses on the next street. That was all right. The floors were still dirty, and so was the inside of the refrigerator. Jacob leaned against the wall and watched her.
“Emily wants to come back to clean. She didn’t have time.”
It was such a shock, hearing all these old names coming out of Jacob’s mouth so easily. Elizabeth. Emily. He was still in touch with them. “I don’t mind,” Celia said. “I like cleaning.” It was true. It was nice to see an immediate result of her hard work. Simple and honest. Not like some of the investment deals that made her feel sour. A job she wasn’t proud of. A man she didn’t love. Was all of it a result of running from the past? Had Celia learned to numb herself to how she really felt? Or was that just life? Did most people find themselves nearly all the way down a path that they never meant to take?
Celia turned back into the hall and headed for the stairs. Adjacent to the stairs were the two downstairs guest rooms. They were on the small side, but the front one had a view of the beach. She went to the foot of the stairs and looked up. She’d always pictured a winding staircase. She headed up, wondered if Jacob was watching her walk as he seemed to take his time behind her.
“Why was there such a tight turnaround time?” he asked.
“Pardon?” She stopped at the top of the stairs, just as he joined her. Was it on purpose? To keep him close in the tight little landing? For a moment, they just stared at each other. They were so close to the bedrooms too. Celia suddenly wished she had an actual bed.
“Why only fourteen days?” Jacob’s voice said the words, but his eyes were on her body. He was trying to be subtle, but there was no mistaking the shifts in his gaze.
“Oh. You know how it is.” Celia had completely forgotten what they were talking about.
“I’m not sure I do,” Jacob said.
“Not sure you do what?” Celia realized, too late, that she was whispering, and bringing her lips closer to Jacob’s. For a second, time stood still. Then Jacob took a step back and gestured ahead of him.
“Shall we continue the tour?” he said in a loud voice.
“Of course.” Oh God. He didn’t want to kiss her. What was wrong with her? Celia forced her attention elsewhere.
Facing her was
a small bathroom. Next to it, a bedroom, and yet another bedroom at the end of the hall. They were a little on the small side, and the bathroom was outdated too. A yellow rubber duck sat on a shelf above the toilet. There were curtains with ungodly flowers plastered all over them. Celia didn’t know why she was so disappointed. She’d imagined the house larger than life. Just like Elizabeth. Did it make it better or worse that Elizabeth Tanner hadn’t been some rich socialite? The third floor was an attic, although it was a room in and of itself. It was large enough for a master bedroom and office or even a sitting room. It had a circular window that looked out on the ocean. Celia would make this her bedroom. Just off to the back was another bathroom.
“How’s your dad?” Jacob said.
Celia’s throat tightened at the thought of the last time she had seen her father. Then she thought of his red flippers on the desk, his ashes in the Chock full o’Nuts can, and she felt a little comforted. “He passed away two weeks ago.”
“Oh no. I am so sorry, Celia.” Jacob hung his head for a moment before looking up at her. Instantly she saw him as a seventeen-year-old boy, standing in front of her RV, eyes staring at his shoes. Then, before she could even process what was happening, he was in front of her, taking her into his arms. She let him fold her into his chest, wrap his arms around her waist. He was strong, with such a solid feel, as he held her. She was not going to let go first. She was disappointed when he did.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” Jacob sounded genuinely surprised.
For touching me. For being here. You’re single, right? Why are we waiting? “For the tour,” Celia said.
“It was nothing. May I ask—”
“Anything.”
“Your dad was still young, wasn’t he? What happened?”
“Smoking caught up with him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I remember how you were always hiding or crushing his cigarettes.”