As Beautiful as the Bay

by Serenity Woods

  He felt torn in two. Each day, as they parted, he told himself he shouldn’t go back to her that night, and he should try to cool things off a bit, just in case he decided he wasn’t going to stay in Blue Penguin Bay. But as the day wore on, he missed her more and more, and by the time the sun set, he couldn’t wait to get back to her place and take her in his arms.

  Finally, he got a call to say the loss adjuster would be coming to assess the damage on Friday at two o’clock. Even though nobody could deny that the bakery had suffered damage, Sam would be relieved to get over that hurdle.

  The man, David Allcott, arrived just before two. Concerned that his dad might get upset when they discussed the damage, Sam had suggested to George that he stay at the vineyard for the meeting, and his father had agreed. A lot of the fight had gone out of him since the storm, not that there had been much remaining in him anyway since the stroke.

  They shook hands, and Sam gave him a tour around the place. The watermark was still visible on the walls, and they hadn’t yet repaired the damaged window, so it was obvious where the river had pinned the car, even though the car itself had been removed. After they’d examined the building, Sam took him into the house, which was now almost dry, and they sat and looked through the photos he and Ginger had taken the day after the storm, recording all the detritus and the damaged equipment.

  When he’d done, Allcott sat back and studied his notes. Sam looked out of the window, listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall above the fire. It was raining again, and yet oddly humid in the house with all the dryers going. He was sweating, as if he had a fever, and his heart was racing.

  “Everything all right?” he asked, conscious that Allcott was still staring at his paperwork.

  The guy cleared his throat and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Usually, we return to the office and prepare a report after an inspection,” he advised. “We’re encouraged not to discuss the results of our findings on the day because emotions are always running high after events like these. But I don’t want to wait. I feel I owe it to you to explain what my report is going to say.”

  Sam tried to swallow, but his throat felt too dry. All the saliva had disappeared from his mouth. “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Pankhurst, your policy covers damage done to your building and its contents that is caused by a storm. Unfortunately, it doesn’t cover damage by flooding. The sheer amount of rainfall was obviously a contributory factor to why the roof leaked in the left-hand corner, and because of that I am happy to recommend that fifty percent of the damage to the contents of the bakery was caused by rainwater. It’s the best I can do, I’m afraid. But the damage to the window was obviously caused by the car, which was swept there by the river. I’m so very sorry, but I cannot recommend that the insurance company cover the repairs to the bakery.”

  Sam blinked a few times. “What?”

  “Sir, are you aware that the council wrote to you warning of a potential flooding problem in your area some eighteen months ago?”

  “No.”

  “They recommended you contact your insurance company and ask them to include cover for flood damage in the event of a storm such as the one we’ve just experienced. But unfortunately, you didn’t do this, and therefore you are not covered.”

  “I didn’t get the letter,” Sam reiterated.

  Allcott’s face was full of pity. “There is a record of the letter having been sent.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Sam clenched his fists as anger surged through him.

  Allcott looked alarmed. “Of course not. I can put in my report that you don’t appear to have received it, but unfortunately there’s no way to prove that. I’m so sorry; I do what I can for people during moments like this, but I can’t alter the facts.”

  “No.” Sam leaned forward, his anger fading, leaving him feeling nauseous. “I understand.”

  “I’m so sorry. Maybe I should have waited to send my report.”

  “It would only have delayed the inevitable,” Sam said. Childishly, he wished Allcott had waited, but what good would that have served? He would have continued working on the bakery, maybe even started on repairs, and he wouldn’t have been able to pay for them.

  “I’d better go.” Allcott got to his feet. “You’ll receive my report very soon. Once again, I’m so sorry. I’ll let myself out.”

  Sam shook his hand and said something, but he was in too much of a daze to think clearly. He watched the man walk away, and then he heard the door open and close.

  His legs gave way, and he sat heavily in the nearest chair. Then he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

  The two builders who’d assessed the bakery had concurred that the water damage had severely affected the structure, and the safest course was to completely rebuild it. Their rough estimate was nearly two hundred thousand dollars. Sam had maybe ten thousand in his account that he’d saved over the years he’d worked on the cruise liner. He knew his father had hardly anything in the bank.

  He’d always paid the insurance premium. It was incredibly unfair that the cover didn’t stretch to flood damage. He supposed he should have known that. But then who really looks at all the small print? The policy probably didn’t stretch to cover damage done by a falling comet or an alien invasion either, but who would ever think about covering every single event that could ever happen? Of course, he’d known of the existence of the river, but he’d had no idea that a fallen tree would have diverted its flow so drastically. It hadn’t entered his head that the policy wouldn’t cover a flood.

  It was no good ranting and railing, or crying about it. The deed was done. But holy fuck, what was he going to do?

  THAT EVENING, GINGER had asked him to pick her up from the vineyard at six because her car was in the local garage having its exhaust fixed. Sam drove up there with a heavy heart. They were all going to want to know how the meeting with Allcott had gone, including his father.

  He’d spent the past few hours going over the options available to him. He was lucky inasmuch as they had no mortgage on the site, because the business had been handed down through the family for many years. So he could apply to the bank for a loan for the repairs. He would have to. And then he’d have to spend the rest of his life paying it off.

  Part of him scorned himself for the thought. Wasn’t that what normal people did? Met someone, settled down, got a mortgage and two-point-four kids? Wasn’t that what life was about?

  But he couldn’t stop a rising tide of resentment. This was never what he’d wanted. Was this really his future? Spending the rest of his life paying for a business that his heart wasn’t in?

  He pulled up outside the vineyard and sat there listlessly for a moment. Moths fluttered around the solar lamps hanging outside, and the restaurant glowed with light. He could see inside clearly. Ginger had decided to continue the previous owner’s plan to open only for lunches for the first six months, and she stopped serving food at two thirty, but it took a few hours to clean up and ready the place for the next day. He could see her now, moving between the tables, straightening the cutlery, and ensuring everything was ready. She loved her job, and had thrown her whole heart into her business. He felt a sweep of envy that surprised him. She didn’t know how lucky she was, being able to move across the world and start again, doing something she’d always dreamed about. He longed for that option, to have no responsibilities, to just see where his feet took him.

  It was followed by a slow swell of guilt. Ginger had no mother or father alive, and no doubt she would have given her freedom to have one or both of them back again. He should be grateful that he still had his father. The storm wasn’t George’s fault. He was going to be as devastated by this as Sam, more so even. It was time to man up, Sam thought, stop being selfish, and just get on with it.

  He got out of the car and walked toward the restaurant. Ginger glanced up and saw him approaching, and he had the pleasure of watching a delighted smile spread across her face. She wa
s so beautiful. He really didn’t deserve her.

  “Hey.” She came out, slid her arms around him, and gave him a squeeze. “How are you doing?”

  “Mmm,” he said, non-committedly, and kissed her hair. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Come in, I’m all done. The others are in the B&B dining room, having dinner.” She led the way through the restaurant and out the back to the corridor leading toward the B&B. “How has your day been?”

  “It... went.” He couldn’t lie to her.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Did the insurance guy turn up?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?” She opened the door to the dining room and went in.

  Sam didn’t reply, instead forcing a smile at everyone seated around the table. It being midwinter, only one of the B&B rooms was taken by guests, and they were obviously eating out tonight, because only Fred, Mac, Sandi, and George were around the table, finishing off the remains of what looked like a shepherd’s pie.

  “Hi,” he said as they cheered at the sight of him.

  “Come in, Sam.” Fred gestured to a free seat. “We saved you a portion.”

  “Thanks, but actually I’ve eaten,” he lied. He saw Ginger glance at him, but didn’t look at her. “Hey Dad,” he said to his father.

  “Hello, lad.” George pushed his plate away. “How did the meeting go?”

  “Oh, of course, the insurance guy.” Mac sipped from a glass of red wine. “All okay, I hope?”

  It was no good—he couldn’t keep it to himself. “Unfortunately not.”

  Their faces lit with alarm. “Oh no,” Mac said. “What happened?”

  Sam swallowed hard. “Apparently, the policy only covers storm damage, not flood damage. So they won’t pay for the building work.”

  As one, all their jaws dropped. It would have been comical if it hadn’t felt so tragic. “Shit,” Mac said. “Why?”

  “The guy said the council had written informing us of the danger of flooding, and advising that we increase our policy to cover it, but I never received the letter.” He looked at his father, his gut twisting. “I’m so sorry, Dad.”

  George had gone white. “Oh no.”

  “It’s all right,” Sam said quickly, “we’ll sort something out. I’ll see the bank on Monday about getting a mortgage for the repairs.”

  “No. I...” George’s mouth opened and shut several times. “I thought it was just the usual bullshit letter...”

  Sam stared at him. “Wait, what?”

  The others followed his gaze and stared at his father.

  “They’re always writing with scares about subsidence or the sky falling,” George said irritably. “I thought it was just them covering themselves. I didn’t think it would actually happen.”

  Cold slowly filtered down inside Sam. “You saw the letter?”

  “I threw it away,” George said. “I didn’t think it was worth wasting your time.”

  Next to him, Sandi wiped her mouth with her serviette and sent the others a warning glance. “Let’s take the dishes out, guys.”

  “Yes, of course.” Fred rose, and together they hurriedly stacked the plates and carried them out into the kitchen. Mac hesitated, looked at Sam, then went after them. Ginger waited a moment longer, then she followed them out too.

  Sam barely saw them go. His chest heaved with deep breaths as he struggled to get oxygen into his lungs. “I can’t believe it. You really threw it away?”

  “I didn’t want to pay another cent toward insurance,” George snapped. “It feels like you’re throwing money down the drain.”

  “Until something like this happens.” Sam’s head hurt. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

  “You said you could get a mortgage.”

  “That’s not the point!” All of Sam’s resentment and frustration merged and boiled over. “When you had your stroke and I took over the business, I told you then that I needed to see all the paperwork.”

  “And I’ve shown it all to you,” George bit back. “This is the only thing you didn’t see.”

  “Dad, seriously, that’s your argument?”

  “Don’t yell at me.” George lifted his chin. “I’m your father, and you’re not going to speak to me like that.”

  “I’m not fifteen, Dad. I’m not even twenty. I’m a grown man, and you handed the business over to me.”

  “That wasn’t my wish,” George yelled. “I had no choice in it.”

  “You really want to do this now?”

  “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” George said, his jaw knotting. “You could never understand, because you have no feelings about the bakery. I told Ginger it was in your blood, but I was wrong.”

  “I do have feelings for it, of course I do. Enough to leave a job I loved and come home. I gave up a lot for you, Dad, because I love you, and this is how you repay me?” Sam knew he was being overly dramatic, but his father’s words had hurt him, and the words wouldn’t stop coming.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” George said. “I didn’t think it was important.”

  Hands on hips, Sam blew out a long breath. “No, and that’s the problem. You’re continuing to make the decisions on the business. You’ve never really given it over to me, have you? Not in your head. You’ll always see it as your bakery. And unfortunately, so will I. I can’t bring myself to make changes because I know how upset it will make you. That’s why I’m so half-hearted about it. It’s your bakery, Dad, not mine.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Sam watched the tension gradually drain from his father until he seemed somehow older and smaller in the chair.

  Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. “I love you, Dad, and I’m sorry I can’t be the son you always wanted. I’m sorry that Ian died. But you’re right, it’s not in my blood. I never wanted to come home. I don’t want to be here.”

  “What are we going to do?” George said in a voice that was barely audible.

  “I don’t know.” Sam could hear the hoarseness in his voice. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to leave. “I’m going out for a while.”

  “Sam...”

  “I’ll talk to you later.” He turned and walked toward the door, then stopped abruptly. Ginger stood there, leaning against the door, her arms folded. She’d obviously heard everything he said.

  He waited for her to yell at him, to burst into tears, or just to walk off, but she didn’t do any of that. Her lips curved up in a small, sad smile, and she moved back to let him pass.

  He walked forward and stopped in front of her. “Ginger...”

  “Go on,” she whispered. “Call me later.”

  Overwhelmed by emotion, he walked past her, went out to his car, and drove off into the night.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ginger watched Sam walk out, fighting her instinct to run after him. She’d heard his words, I never wanted to come home. I don’t want to be here. And she’d seen the look on his face, of resentment and frustration.

  He hadn’t been referring to her. She knew he had feelings for her. But she wasn’t what he needed right now, complicating matters. He needed to calm down and get his thoughts sorted, away from the two people who were holding him in Blue Penguin Bay when he so desperately wanted to leave.

  Biting her bottom lip to stop it trembling, she went into the room and walked over to sit beside George. He looked as if every piece of life had been sucked out of him. He sat slumped in his chair, his chin on his chest, looking completely defeated.

  “George?” She took his hand. “Are you okay?”

  He lifted his head to look at her, then lowered it again. “He despises me.”

  “Of course he doesn’t. He loves you deeply, that’s why he came back.”

  “He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to run the bakery.”

  “I don’t think it’s that.” She rubbed his arm. “He’s young, that’s all. He has ambition, and he wants to do things his own way. It’s only natural. He wants
to impress you, George—he wants to do amazing things so that you look at him and think, ‘Wow! That’s my son!’ You’ve made such a mark on this community that he can only stand in your shadow. You’ve brought him up to be strong and adventurous, and he wants to show you what he can do. He feels a bit... stifled, that’s all. I think if you could just give him some leeway to make changes, he might be happy to stay.”

  “You’re a good girl,” he mumbled. “You’re good for him. You keep his feet on the ground.”

  “He’s a lovely guy. Almost as lovely as his dad.”

  His lips curved up a little.

  “You look tired,” she said. “Shall we get you to bed?”

  “In a minute. I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

  “All right,” she said, sensing he wanted a few moments alone to get over his emotion. “I’ll take our plates out, and come back in a little while.” She collected the remaining dirty crockery, gave him a smile, and left the room.

  In the kitchen, Mac, Fred, and Sandi were talking in low voices. They looked up as she came in, their voices worried.

  “We saw Sam leave,” Fred said. “Mac wasn’t sure whether to go after him.”

  “I think he needs some space,” Ginger replied. “He’ll calm down.”

  “Poor Sam,” Sandi said. “I can only imagine how he’s feeling.”

  “I can’t believe the fucking insurance company,” Mac said angrily. “Not paying out for flood damage. It’s incredible.”

  “The bakery would have been covered if George had shown Sam the letter from the council,” Fred reminded him. “I know it was just a thoughtless act, but it’s really cost them both.”

  “Sam can get a mortgage on the place though, can’t he?” Sandi asked.