by Zoe York
She hadn’t seen him in almost four weeks, not since the morning after his drunken episode. He’d backed off completely at first, but then these notes started appearing. Like he’d come by exactly when he knew she wouldn’t be around. The thought made her breathless, which she both loved and hated. This new tactic of his was totally working, which made her a sucker.
The screen changed in front of her, revealing a small meeting room. She recognized Greg, and when the young woman closest to the camera spoke, she connected the voice as Ashley, the PA she’d talked to a couple of times. Greg started the introductions as she waved. When it came time for him to introduce Olivia, she was genuinely surprised at some of the words he used.
“You guys all know how helpful she’s been, dashing out to get us more information as we fill in the filming schedule and figure out what contracts we need to have on offer when I head up there next week. I’m quite thankful Trey and I stumbled across her at that diner, and hopefully we can convince her to do even more for us, because I think Olivia’s quite the rare gem. So welcome to the team, Liv.”
She blinked at the nickname. Only Rafe called her that. She thought about correcting him but then a hipster in thick black glasses leaned in and the moment was gone. “You’ll probably regret joining the call by the end of the meeting, but nice to put a face to the voice.” She realized this man—John, Greg had called him—was the Johnny who’d called her the week previous with questions about Wilson Island.
And then they returned to the agenda she’d interrupted with her call. She had a copy of that printed out, Ashley had emailed it the day before, and she scanned the page. It took a minute to orient herself to the conversation but once she did, she had no problem following along. She found the entire process fascinating and more than once she had something small but substantive to offer.
Once they’d concluded all their planned discussion, Greg brought up the question of accommodations. “So we’d planned to use mobile homes for everyone, but it looks like we’re going to run into service overloads if we go that route. And if Hope Creswell and Joshua Pearce don’t have electricity when they wake up one morning, there will be hell to pay.”
Olivia blinked hard. Joshua Pearce? Holy crap. This wasn’t just any movie if one of Hollywood’s most mercurial A-list bad boys was one of the stars. And Hope Creswell…achingly beautiful and super aloof, according to People magazine. She lifted her hand tentatively, unsure how to break into the conversation that John and Ashley were having about seasonal temperatures. “Uhm…”
Five curious faces turned toward her and heat crawled up her neck and around the side of her face. “How many rooms do we need? And how much privacy?” Do they come with entourages that also need to be put up in prime space? She grabbed the pad of paper and started jotting down questions and answers as they fired more information at her.
“Olivia, what are you thinking?”
She nibbled on the tip of her pen for a moment, then pointed it at her web cam. “I think I might know of a set of cottage rentals that would work for the primary players.” She glanced down at the short list of names she’d made down the left margin of her pad. “Will Trey be commuting or bringing his family up here?”
“I think that’s up in the air, but you might want to plan on him needing a house for himself—but his wife might have already looked at some options online.”
Olivia frowned. “Do we know if anyone else will have family with them? Is that a list someone could put together for me?”
“On it!” Ashley moved to the desk in the corner of the room and started typing.
“There’s a certain standard…” Greg cleared his throat. “I’m not sure cottages are the way to go.”
Olivia laughed. She was pretty sure that Lynn Howard’s parents’ place was only called a cottage because it was on the lake. “I think I know what you need. I’m going to take a run out to the properties I’m thinking of right after this. I’ll have pictures for you before the end of the day.”
* * *
— —
* * *
Blue Heron Lane was just outside the village, on the far side of the ridge that hemmed in Pine Harbour to the south. Ryan and Lynn lived in the house at the top of the lane—her parents’ old property. Between them and the lake lay five rental cottages, each one nicer than the last. The house at the very end of the lane was their retirement home, and it was truly breathtaking. Lynn’s father, Mike Fenich, had been a contractor before selling the remains of his business to Jake Foster. Now their only business interests were the cottage rentals. Olivia was pretty sure they spent most of the winter down south and they might not even be around, but she could start with Lynn.
The trees here were mostly pine, but around the Howard house there were a few tall oaks and the leaves had all fallen on the lawn. Three unlit jack o’lanterns smiled ghoulishly at her from the wide front porch, a reminder that she needed to pick up candy on her way home. Halloween was only five days away. Olivia parked her little Civic next to Lynn’s navy blue minivan.
As soon as she knocked at the front door, it swung open. Maya, the youngest Howard, gazed up at her with super solemn eyes but didn’t say anything. Behind her came Lynn, laughing as she wiped her hands on her jeans. Tall, thin and blonde, Lynn Howard had a timeless beauty that shone through no matter what—even when she was tired or sad. Today she looked both, despite her ready smile.
“Olivia, this is a surprise!” They hadn’t seen each other since the night Rafe insisted she come home from the bonfire with him and Dean. She hadn’t explained the change of plans to her friend, and suddenly she was reminded of the fact that she didn’t talk to Ryan about Lynn disappearing into the woods.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, not at all. Come in, I was just catching up on dishes.”
The living room was neat and tidy, but through the open kitchen door Olivia saw a stack of plates and dirty pots on the stove and a row of glasses on the counter, like it had been a couple of days since anyone had filled the sink and done any scrubbing.
“Ryan at work?”
Lynn nodded. “Last day of four in a row. The kids will be glad to have him home for the weekend.”
Like Rafe, Ryan worked out of Wiarton. The EMS station was located at the regional hospital. Olivia remembered how a twelve hour shift basically meant he’d be gone for everything but sleeping with the commute back and forth. “That must be hard, having him basically gone for a bunch of days when he’s working.”
Sadness drifted across Lynn’s face. “It’s okay. It’s not great for us when he’s home, either. But the kids are happy. I’ll probably go to my sister’s place for the weekend.”
Olivia was dumbfounded. “I had no idea. You guys always seem…” Happy wasn’t the right word, in hindsight. “Content.”
“I think I was too busy having babies to notice that we’d drifted apart.” Lynn picked at imaginary fluff on her jeans. “Anyway, my marriage troubles weren’t the reason you came over, I’m sure.”
“I’ve got time, if you want to talk.”
“No…” Lynn blew a big raspberry, making Olivia jump and Maya giggle. “Come here, baby girl, Mama wants a cuddle since you refused to nap.”
Maya toddled over. Lynn kissed her forehead and pulled her into her lap. Olivia’s heart ached at the sight of her friend clinging to a fading happiness. Would that have been her if they’d had kids? Resenting Rafe’s time away? Losing all sense of self?
Hell, she’d already been down that road and she hadn’t been caring for children, either.
On the other hand…people work. Spouses spend time away—sometimes a lot of time. That wasn’t necessarily a death knell to a marriage. And maybe they were failing each other by wallowing in that loneliness instead of leaning on each other.
“Maybe we should do something fun…go dancing in Owen Sound or have a girls’ night in.”
Lynn gave her a strangely knowing smirk. “I think our ideas of fun are too di
fferent these days, honey.”
Olivia thought of the disappearing act at the bonfire. Maybe that was true. “I’m sure we can find something to agree on.”
Lynn shook her head. “That’s the problem…I don’t want to have fun anymore. I’m just done.”
“I don’t understand.” Nervous, Olivia leaned forward and tried to catch Lynn’s eye. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Yes. Of course.” She laughed, a hollow sound that did nothing to quell the storm churning in Olivia’s gut. “So, why did you pop by?”
Reluctantly, Olivia allowed the conversation to steer toward the cottages. “The thing is,” she explained after outlining her idea. “By my initial count, we’ll need three private residences, each with at least three bedrooms, and then an additional twelve rooms in any configuration. The rental contract would be more than fair, and my boss will lay that out for your parents, but I just want to know if they might be interested. If not, I need to come up with an alternate plan before the team comes up next week.”
Lynn counted bedrooms on her fingers, arriving at the same thought Olivia had already. “So you’ll want to rent my parents’ place as well.”
“Renting the entire lane would really be perfect. Except your place, of course.”
Her friend shrugged. “Let’s go ask them.”
Behind Lynn’s house, a path wound through the woods, running parallel to the edge of the road—a safe route for the kids to visit their grandparents. On the opposite side of the lane sat the five Blue Heron Lane cottages, but as they followed Maya through the thick brush, Olivia couldn’t see any of the modern glass and wood structures.
The path opened into the clearing behind the Fenich home. Gloria Fenich was hanging laundry on a line strung between her back door and a free-standing pergola at the side of the house. Maya started running as soon as she saw her grandmother.
“This is a lovely surprise, I thought you had preschool today, little one.” Gloria kissed her granddaughter and looked at Lynn with a furrowed brow.
“We had a long nap and missed the start of it.” Lynn tossed out the explanation in a quiet, hurried burst of words, then busied herself with hanging up the rest of the wet laundry in the plastic basket on the deck. Olivia tried hard to pretend she didn’t know it was a lie. What was going on with Lynn?
“Olivia, it’s lovely to see you again.”
“And you as well, Gloria.” She took a deep breath. It felt weird, being something other than the waitress at the diner. A good kind of weird. “This isn’t just a social call, however. I have an interesting proposition for you…”
Olivia outlined what she knew about the project—which wasn’t a lot, but she made it sound good—and promised Gloria that they would have all the information laid out really clearly by somebody else before they had to make any commitment. But in broad strokes, if they were interested, she could arrange for a meeting with her boss.
“Oh my,” Gloria said, a pleased smile dancing on her lips. “I’ll need to talk it over with Mike, of course, and he’s on a hunting trip, but he’ll call tonight. Can I give you an answer tomorrow? And in the meantime, how about I make us some tea?”
Olivia couldn’t believe her good luck as Gloria bustled off to the kitchen. Maya followed along behind her asking for some milk.
“You’ve got a knack for that,” Lynn said quietly.
“For what?”
“Selling an idea.”
Olivia grinned. “It’s not much different than convincing fifty people they want Frank’s lunch special.”
Lynn laughed. “I guess not.” For the first time since they’d arrived at her mother’s house, Lynn really looked at Olivia and held her gaze. “I envy you.”
“My mess of a life?” Olivia shook her head. “Grass is not greener, honey.”
“Yeah, probably not.” But Lynn didn’t sound convinced.
Olivia didn’t know how to press harder without offending her friend. She knew she was chickening out even as she leaned back and pasted on a bright smile. “This is a good opportunity for them. Maybe for you too, if they’re going to be away.” Gloria had mentioned maybe staying at their Florida condo until the filming was done, to free up their place entirely as a rental unit. “You could be the contact person for the tenants.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not interesting.”
Interesting is what you make of something, Olivia wanted to yell. Instead she smiled politely and looked toward the kitchen. Tea couldn’t come fast enough.
Lynn snorted. “Don’t try to save me, Liv.”
“I’m not,” Olivia said quietly. Save yourself, don’t give up on the lovely little life you have. “I’m just saying if I could do things differently, I would.”
“I can see the look on your face. You think life is a fairytale.”
“God, I really don’t. If it was, I’d still be married.”
“So…you get it?” Lynn looked at her, eyes wide, almost pleading for affirmation…of what?
Olivia shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure I do.” Tea wasn’t coming, so she leaned forward and looked Lynn in the eye. “What’s going on?”
“How did you get up the courage to leave Rafe?”
“I didn’t. He asked me for a divorce.”
Lynn’s shoulders slumped. “Ryan will never leave me. He wants to go to counselling.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Olivia fought back the harsher words that bubbled up and wiggled on the tip of her tongue. Don’t throw your marriage away. But that would make her a hypocrite. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to save her own marriage even if she had handled things differently.
Chapter 10
Three years earlier
THE front door opened slowly, followed by the sound of Rafe’s heavy footsteps. One, two, three. Just far enough inside the door to swing it shut, and there he stopped. Waiting. She clattered dishes in the sink, a pathetic, passive-aggressive warning that he might not want to come and find her in the kitchen. Not without armouring up first, anyway. Except it was also a pathetic, passive-aggressive vie for his attention. She hated that she was throwing a tantrum.
At least the kitchen was getting tidied at the same time.
She couldn’t see him but his routine was the same every night. He’d sit on the bench at the door and take off his boots. Thunk. Then he’d go upstairs and wash off the uglier side of humanity he’d spent his day with. Another point of contention that she had no right to be upset over. She wanted to be his first priority when he came home, not taking a minute to decompress. He’d tried to explain it to her and she’d just gotten wound up. Like she was yet another stressor in his life that he needed to mentally brace himself for.
Tonight he didn’t go upstairs. It felt like a hollow victory, because he certainly didn’t come and wrap his arms around her waist, although that might have something to do with the giant butcher knife she was furiously scrubbing.
“I’m sorry, I know you were looking forward to this weekend.” He filled the kitchen doorway. He’d changed at the detachment before driving home, but he still had on “work clothes”. An OPP t-shirt and navy cargo pants, his standard almost-in-uniform uniform.
“It’s not about the weekend, Rafe.”
He looked confused and she didn’t blame him. Her rage didn’t make much sense outside her head. “This course is only offered once a year, and I need it.”
“I know.” She scrubbed harder, as if she could wash away their problems with extra elbow-grease.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“When?” She shook her head and placed the knife in the dish rack. “I switched three of my days off to make this weekend happen. Two of them I took out of time we had off together. And I’m sure you’re going to get called in—“
“I’ll say no.”
“No, you won’t. And I don’t want you to. It’s not just work, Rafe. I get it, I really do. You’ve got responsibilities that are greater than me.” She waved her hand i
n front of his face, spraying sudsy dishwater as she cut off his interjection before it even began. “No. I understand. What you need to understand is I’m still pissed. Logic has no place in this conversation. I’m just…sad and hurt and looking at yet another weekend alone. Nothing makes that better.”
That was true, but it didn’t change the fact that she wanted him to try, even if it was in vain. But he had tried. And she’d tried not to care. They were both tried out. So Rafe turned slowly and went upstairs. The shower turned on, then off after a few minutes. He didn’t come back downstairs.
She wiped down the counters. Then the front of the fridge and the windowsill.
Finally she trudged up to their room. He was lying on their bed, reading a book he’d read a dozen times before. She wanted to make a snipping comment about the meaning of life being a happy wife, but knew it would go over like a lead balloon. So she quietly grabbed a tank top and sleeping shorts and got changed. “I might go sleep downstairs.”
He snorted. “That’s a great solution to us not spending enough time together.”
“Quality time, Rafe. Not like this.”
“This is what we make it, Liv.”
“It’s not enough.”
He pushed up, sitting on the edge of the bed. His book sat beside him, open facedown on the bedspread to keep his page. “Come to bed.”
“I don’t think sex is a good idea.”
“Not for sex, woman. Jesus, I certainly don’t feel like it when you’re harping at me.”
Great, so now she was a harpy. “Then it won’t matter if I sleep downstairs.”