by Jenny Hale
When she said “Yes,” he flagged the waitress. Maybe if they stayed for another drink she could find out his next move.
“I’m sorry,” she said, although she didn’t really know why she was sorry. She was quite relieved, finally feeling like she could breathe again. Things were going perfectly for her. She felt like a giant weight had been lifted. Gram’s house wasn’t going to be leveled for now. All Emily’s memories would be intact, like a museum of her childhood for her to see any time she wanted. But she knew that, while tonight, she’d won a tiny battle, this might not be the end of it, and she needed to change his mind completely about developing the area so he’d stop trying.
Charlie rubbed his eyes and then looked at her. “To make money on the inn, I have to upgrade the location.”
Emily, who’d taken the last sip of beer in her glass as she waited for another, looked up at him.
“And if I can’t build onto it, then not only will I not make any money on the sale of the inn but I’ll have to let down all the people involved in the expansion.”
She thought of T & N Construction. Tommy and Nate were probably banking on that money. “There’s enough room to expand on a smaller scale on the existing property. Couldn’t you do that?”
He didn’t answer her, and she knew it was because that wasn’t what he wanted to do. By the look on his face now, she could tell he’d fully expected to convince Rocky tonight and he was scrambling for his next move. The waitress set down their beers and Charlie nodded in thanks, his attention still elsewhere. “I had no idea the planning commission would be this difficult to convince.”
“So now what?”
“I keep trying.”
She took a sip of beer as the waitress gathered the empty plates. “You hardly ate anything tonight,” she pointed out.
“Business dinners are like that,” he said with a half-smile. “I’ll eat later.”
He looked tired, and while Emily was thrilled with the outcome tonight, she felt bad that a great outcome for her had to make someone else unhappy. “Why don’t you come back to the house and I’ll cook for you.” She was crossing that line again. The truth was, the house aside, she liked Charlie. She was going to make him see why keeping Oyster Bay was the right thing to do. With a little persuading, she could change his mind. She knew she could make him love it just like she did.
“I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“I want to convince you that you don’t need my gram’s land. It’s a business dinner.” She smiled at him. He still seemed unsure. “Hospitality is what this place is all about. And you want to understand this town, right? How can you understand it if you don’t experience it?”
“Fine,” he said. “But you won’t convince me.”
“Oh!” Gram said, clamping her eyes on Charlie as he and Emily walked through the door.
“Hi, Gram,” Emily said. “This is Charlie Peterson.”
“Hello, Charles.” She smiled in greeting and then turned back to Emily.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I called and asked if Rachel, Jeff, and Clara could come over. Have you eaten yet?”
“No I haven’t, actually,” Gram said, her excitement a little forced. Were they imposing? Emily wondered. “I feel like I’ve got a house full of teenagers again—all the comin’ and goin’,” she added. “It’s still early. Want me to make us some dinner?”
“We can all help. Are the crab pots full?”
“Probably. You and Charles can go check.”
“Please call me Charlie,” he said to Gram as she continued to stare at him.
Emily nodded toward the back door as she kicked her shoes off and slid them near the doormat with her foot. “Follow me,” she said to Charlie. He took his shoes off and set them beside hers on the way out.
“Do you ever wear shoes?” he asked.
She didn’t answer but the question made her laugh.
The sun was low in the sky, casting an orange light on the water as they walked through the grass together, leading down to the tractor that was still parked by the beach near the house. When they reached it, she climbed up in the passenger side.
“I thought you could drive this time,” she said.
He stood there for a moment, and then, to her surprise, he climbed up into the driver’s seat and assessed his surroundings.
“My papa rebuilt the engine to this tractor so many times that it runs a little differently than most. I don’t know if I’d have any idea how to drive another tractor.”
Charlie put his hands on the wheel.
“Turn the gas switch. It’s over there.” She leaned across his lap to point to show him.
He flipped it.
“Now push the ignition and hit the starter button.” The motor chugged and then hummed. “Crank that switch up to ‘run’.” When he did the motor got louder.
Emily watched his concentration, the way the skin wrinkled between his eyes, his slight frown, and his intense focus on what was in front of him. She remembered that feeling when she’d sat on Papa’s lap learning the same thing. “Now,” she said over the noise. “Pull that lever to release the clutch.”
He tried, but it wouldn’t budge.
She put her hand over his and wriggled the lever loose like Papa had done for her, but it was odd to feel the masculine hand inside her fist. Just as she processed the feeling, she noticed that his eyes were on her hand, so she removed it and put it in her lap. Best she get her head in the right place now.
“Put it in drive now, punch the clutch and hit the gas.”
The old tractor chugged a little and then they were off. Emily watched the way Charlie’s hands moved on the steering wheel as he maneuvered the tractor over the rough landscape, the ease with which his foot pumped the clutch. “You’re a natural,” she said, catching his eye as he glanced over. “Watch the tree!”
Charlie quickly turned back and steered them onto the path again, paralleling the coast as they headed toward the stretch of beach with Papa’s pier. “Don’t distract me,” he said, keeping his eyes forward this time.
She laughed, unable to stop herself.
When they arrived at Papa’s pier and the old boat, Charlie said, “Stay put,” and hopped down onto the sand. He walked around and opened her door, offering her a hand.
“Well, thank you,” she said, grabbing the old bucket from behind the seat, taking his hand for support, and jumping down beside him. “Let’s check those crab pots. Ready?”
He grinned at her, but there were thoughts behind his eyes. Trying not to read into them, she led him onto the pier and they walked to the edge, where Emily sat down and hung her feet over the side. She set the bucket next to her. Tied to the post at the corner of the pier was a thin rope. She grabbed onto it and began to pull, the slack from the rope, making wet circles on the dock as she retrieved it from the water. Finally, the crab pot emerged—a wire mesh cage full of Chesapeake blue crabs. Carefully, she stood up, unhinged the trap door, and dumped them into the bucket.
“They’re gorgeous,” Charlie said, leaning over them as they squirmed around.
Emily turned to respond and stopped when she saw how close he was to her. He looked into her eyes as if he were searching for something. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then she pulled back. He smiled at her, his face full of questions. Perhaps having him back to the house wasn’t such a good idea. She turned and walked toward the tractor.
“We should get these crabs back,” she said. “My sister’s on her way over with her husband and daughter. We’ll need to help them set up the steamer.” Then she peeked back over her shoulder at him.
Charlie nodded.
“Do you mind driving back?” she asked.
“Not at all.” Charlie picked up the bucket of crabs while Emily tipped the crab pot on its end to dry out on the dock for later. Then, together, they got back into the tractor and headed toward the house.
When they arrived, Jeff was standing at the outside fire pit, starting the fi
re, and Rachel was setting up chairs in a half-circle. Emily wouldn’t have noticed otherwise, but knowing Rachel’s struggle about working and how they weren’t getting along, she could sense a little something between Jeff and her sister. There wasn’t any real, clear sign of it, but Emily could tell by watching their body language. Rachel was working at a clip, not looking up or talking like she always did and Jeff was focused, careful, taking his time at the fire pit. Clara had one of the long skewers with an enormous marshmallow on the end of it. She went over and stood next to her daddy.
“You’re going to ruin your dinner, young lady,” Emily said with a grin as she walked toward them with Charlie.
“I won’t!” Clara said, turning her head and wobbling her marshmallow near the flame as she toyed with her yellow hair bow with the other hand. Jeff grabbed the center of the stick to steady it and keep her safe from the heat. “I’m only having two. Mommy said it’s my appetizer.”
Emily laughed.
“Hey there!” she said as they neared Jeff. “This is Charlie.” Rachel was waiting by the table rather than joining her husband. Emily motioned for her to come down to them. “Charlie, this is my sister, Rachel, and her husband, Jeff.” They all shook hands, Rachel’s eyes moving back and forth between Charlie and Emily. “And this is Clara.”
“Hello,” Clara said to Charlie. Her bow had slid down her hair, the wisps that had escaped tickling her face. She scratched her nose and cheek. “I like your blue shirt.”
“Thank you,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “I like your yellow dress, but I think it would be too small for me.”
Clara giggled.
He’s definitely got one of us on his side, Emily thought.
She set the bucket of crabs down next to Jeff. “Ready to steam these?”
When they were younger, it had been Jeff and Papa who’d always steamed the crabs, but now it was just Jeff. She realized right then that she’d taken those wonderful nights they’d had together as a family for granted. She’d spent all that time away from Rachel and Jeff while she was in Richmond just assuming that they’d always be there. What if things didn’t work out between them? She may not get to see him anymore apart from the odd birthday party.
“Absolutely! I’ve got the steamer set up on the patio.”
“I’d boiled some potatoes for our dinner, but when you asked me to come over, I just brought them with us,” Rachel said. “I figured maybe we could make potato salad. And I brought baked beans. Gram’s putting them on the stove now. I’ll go in and help her.”
Rachel seemed almost eager to help Gram. It was absolutely clear now that she was trying to distance herself from Jeff.
“Wait,” Emily said to Rachel. “Should we have some wine?” Emily turned to get Charlie’s answer and, to her surprise, he was grinning at Clara. She was showing off, dancing in circles to cool her marshmallow.
He looked over at Emily, his eyes warm. “I’d love some, thank you. But, please, let me get it.” He stood up and, before she could protest, he’d left them and gone into the kitchen.
“Tell me quickly,” Rachel whispered. “What’s he doing here?”
“I asked him to dinner.”
“He looked very comfortable driving Papa’s tractor. What’s that all about?”
“I taught him. He hadn’t eaten tonight and I asked him to come back after our meeting. He said okay.”
“Wonder why,” she asked, her tone suggestive.
“I don’t know. Maybe he was hungry and he figured he could get a good meal. We met with Rocky tonight at Merroir—I have tons to tell you. Charlie was so busy talking that he didn’t eat.”
“He could’ve just ordered something to go. Maybe he wanted more time with you.”
“Don’t read into it, Rach. I’m sure he’s just being friendly… Enough about me. How are things with Jeff?” she whispered, her gaze darting over to him to be sure he hadn’t heard. He was busy with Clara.
“No different.” Rachel shook her head. “There’s nothing to do really but either weather the storm or let it ruin us. Actually, at this point, I have no idea which is more likely.”
Jeff had taken Clara out in the yard. He was swinging her in circles, her laughter sailing through the air. Every time he put her down, Emily could see Clara’s silhouette as she raised her arms and jumped around for more. He was a natural at being a dad. He had such an even temperament—he never seemed to get upset. That was what made the current situation so perplexing for Emily. “You and Jeff have always been perfect for each other. You’ll work through it.”
“This is big, Emily. This isn’t a disagreement about where to put the laundry or something. This is about what we both see for our futures. He wants things right now that I just don’t. We are drifting apart with every conversation about this. How can I make him wait for more kids? How can he make me want to give up the rest of my working life? I just don’t see how we’ll get past it.”
“Have you told Gram?”
“I didn’t have to. She could tell. But I haven’t admitted to anything. I’m just not ready to talk about it. I want to see if I can convince him first, although it’s not working…
“Where is our wine?” she asked with a laugh, changing the subject. Emily let her, but she wasn’t feeling any better about the situation with Jeff and her sister.
“Gram has probably held Charlie hostage with some old story of hers. We’d better save him.” Emily and Rachel walked up to the door.
They entered the kitchen and Gram was at the stove, stirring the beans in a deep silver pot with one hand while she leaned delicately on her cane with the other. She was staring at Charlie, her face serious.
Charlie’s face didn’t look much lighter. Both of them nearly jumped when Emily and Rachel came in. Empty glasses were sitting on the counter; Charlie hadn’t even poured any wine.
“Everyone doing okay?” Emily asked.
Both nodded.
“I needed help with my beans,” Gram said. “I couldn’t… get the can open.”
There seemed to be tension in the room—she could feel it. Emily grabbed two glasses, filled them, and handed one to Charlie, wondering if she was making more of the scene she’d just witnessed than what it was. It certainly looked like more than opening a can of beans. Without any discussion about it, she and Charlie headed outside. Jeff had added wood to the fire, its flames licking the light blue sky as they rose into the air.
“Rachel’s bringing yours,” she said to Jeff. He nodded, his gaze flickering to the kitchen window before settling back on the fire.
“Gram didn’t corner you with a long story, did she?” she asked Charlie as they sat down at the patio table. She knew there had been something going on between Charlie and Gram when she’d come into the kitchen for sure. She wasn’t crazy; she could tell. Had Gram heard about Charlie wanting the land? Or maybe he’d told her. Had he upset her?
“No. I was just helping her in the kitchen.”
Jeff sat down in one of the chairs facing the fire and motioned for them to take a seat beside him. “That fire pit your papa built is really great,” Jeff said. “I’d like one in my backyard.”
“Yeah, I can remember we used to sit out here for hours, him telling us stories.” Emily said with a smile. “He was an amazing storyteller. Even reading bedtime stories, he would pull me into that world and I remember working so hard to keep my eyes open because if I missed the ending, I was afraid the story would slip away from me. If I did fall asleep, I’d make him tell the whole thing again the next night. I wanted to hear it from beginning to end. He was so great at it.”
Charlie had his eyes on her, but there was something more behind his pleasant expression. Then he said, “I had nannies that read to me.”
“Were they good storytellers?” she asked.
“Some. But my parents had specific books they asked them to read to ensure I was getting the best experience to better my education.” He took a sip of wine. “
I used to keep a flashlight under my bed, and after they’d gone, I would read the books I wanted.”
“Did you go under your covers?” Clara, who’d been setting her dolls in a line on one of the chairs, asked, crawling into Charlie’s lap. The surprise on his face made Emily curious. She liked the way he looked when he wasn’t in charge, when he didn’t have some sort of agenda. It changed his entire demeanor, as if someone had hacked away at that hard, businesslike exterior to reveal who he really was inside, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Clara was waiting for his answer, her little head turned to the side as she toyed with a button on his shirt. “Sometimes I go under my covers and pretend it’s my castle and I’m the princess,” Clara said.
“You do?” he asked.
Emily noticed how gentle Charlie’s voice was, his warm gaze… She tore her eyes away from him, focusing on Clara.
“Yes,” Clara said, pushing her hair out of her face. Her yellow bow was gone. “And sometimes I pretend it’s a cave. Did you ever do that?”
“No, but it sounds fun.”
“What did you play?” She wriggled off his lap and stood in front of him.
Charlie was quiet just long enough to cause Emily to reluctantly direct her attention back toward him. He looked as though he were searching for an answer. “I don’t remember.”
Emily’s childhood was so vivid, so full of memories that she was floored by his answer, and from the look on his face, he was serious. He really didn’t remember playing. Did he grow up without ever having fun?
The back door opened and Gram hobbled through, steadying herself with her cane as she made the few steps down. Emily rushed across the patio to grab the bowl of potato salad from her. She held it with two hands to keep from dropping it and wondered how Gram had expected to get it all the way down to the table. “You should’ve called through the window, Gram. I’d have gotten this for you. Is there anything else in there that you need me to get?”