The Treasure Man

by Pamela Browning

  “Parlor, then library, then the dining room and porch. We’ll talk about the upstairs after you’ve finished those.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they shouted in unison. Chloe, grateful in the extreme for their help, retreated to her workshop and did her best to ignore the vacuum cleaner roar, the grating of furniture on the floor as the girls moved it and the silences that often erupted into girlish laughter.

  The thing that gave her the most concern was that Aaron, Jill’s boyfriend, stopped by and stayed for over an hour. When Jill playfully asked him if he’d like to help clean the prismed sconces in the parlor, he refused and sat on the hall settee with his arms folded over his chest, scowling at the girls. Chloe, in her workshop, was party to the whole conversation, and Aaron was visible to her when she looked up from her work. He saw her watching him and favored her with a sardonic grin.

  Tara and Jill finished their work on the chandelier, and Chloe wasn’t happy when they offered him lunch. The three of them gathered around the back-porch table, scarfing down quantities of tomato sandwiches. From what Chloe could figure out as she heated up leftover macaroni and cheese for herself, most of the conversation was between Tara and Jill, with an occasional uninterested grunt from Aaron.

  Later, Tara came inside to tell Chloe that they were adjourning to the beach to go surfing. “Aaron borrowed a board from somebody. He wants to try it out.”

  “You’re surfing, too?”

  Tara shook her head. “Jill and I are going to hunt for shells that I can send my sisters. Greg’s coming over later.” She hurried away, and Chloe soon heard her engaging in banter with her friends while they filled an insulated jug to take to the beach with them.

  Chloe got up and went into the kitchen to tell Tara what time to be back for dinner. “I was thinking,” she said to the kids. “How about if we have that party Tara’s been talking about? I’ll make fajitas.”

  “Her famous fajitas,” Tara said with obvious glee.

  “It sounds wonderful,” Jill said.

  Aaron merely lifted his brows as if to say, Who cares?

  “My mom will make brownies if I ask her. She likes to bake,” Jill said.

  “Ooh, that would be great.” Tara beamed.

  “How about next Saturday night?”

  “Sure,” chorused Tara and Jill.

  At that moment, Ben arrived at the back door. “What’s next Saturday night?”

  “A party. You’re invited,” Tara told him.

  The door slammed after them as they left, and Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “What was that all about?”

  “Tara’s going to ask a bunch of kids over, and I’m hoping you’ll help me keep an eye on things.”

  “No problem. Say, do you have a minute?”

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “More than.”

  He curved his hands around her waist. “You smell wonderful.”

  “Same as I did yesterday.”

  “You smelled wonderful then, too.”

  She let him hug her, marveling as she always did how well they fit together. They quickly broke apart, mostly because Chloe didn’t trust Tara not to run back into the house to get something she’d forgotten.

  “How long will we have to sneak around like this?” Ben asked mildly. His brown eyes regarded her with equanimity.

  “As long as we wish to keep our relationship a secret.” She busied herself wiping spatters from the counter.

  “Is that such a good idea?”

  “Depends,” Chloe said, avoiding his gaze.

  “We’re a couple,” he told her. “Maybe we should act like one.”

  “By advertising that we sleep together?” Chloe’s eyebrows rose straight up into her hairline.

  He walked around the table and leaned on the counter beside her, arms and ankles crossed. “No, not exactly. Tara could know that we like each other, couldn’t she?”

  “She already does.”

  “I mean, that we’re romantically involved. There’s nothing wrong with a healthy, caring relationship.”

  “Tara’s had a good example in her parents. Naomi and Ray are in love after all this time, and they’re happy. I don’t need to muddy the waters for her. It might be confusing to see us—uh, gazing into each other’s eyes. Or something.”

  “It might be more confusing if she figures out that we’re crazy about each other but never touch. Or kiss,” he added.

  “Ben, I—”

  “Uh-oh,” he said. “Here it comes.”

  She smiled. “It’s not as if we—as if—oh, I’m not sure how to say this.”

  “Just spit it out,” he suggested helpfully.

  “We’ve only been ‘romantically involved’ for a short time. If Tara finds out we, um, sleep together, she may jump to conclusions.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t want her getting the idea that this is more than it is,” she said, rinsing the sponge under the faucet.

  “Have you ever considered that this might be more than a fling?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I care about you a great deal, Chloe. I’m proud for the world to know that I’m with such a wonderful, charming, although admittedly wacky, woman.” He noted the way her face lit up. “Now it’s your turn,” he said. “Have at it.” He uncrossed his legs and arms, inviting her to close the distance between them.

  She moved forward one large step and placed her hands on his chest, looking up at him. “You honor me,” she said softly. “I haven’t figured out what I feel yet, other than excited and eager and pleasured intensely.”

  “That’s enough,” he said agreeably. “That’s more than I hoped for.”

  She stood on tiptoe to kiss the tip of his nose. “I don’t trust this, Ben,” she said. “It seems too easy, too happy, too…wonderful?”

  “It’ll do,” Ben said before cupping her head between his palms and tilting her face up for his kiss. It was openmouthed and hungry, eager and demanding. When they finally surfaced for air, he grinned. “I’ll let you call the shots. I don’t like hiding my feelings for you, that’s all.”

  “We’ll take it easy,” she said, her knees weak from his kisses. “I’ll handle Tara, okay? She’s on the brink of steering her life in a new direction, partly thanks to you. I don’t want to upset her so that she disappears again to parts unknown, changes her mind about going back to school or falls back into bad habits.”

  Ben nodded soberly. “I understand. Well, now that this is settled, what do you say we make good use of the kids being down on the beach and retire to somewhere private? I could use a bit of afternoon delight.”

  “So could I,” she said, as eager as he was.

  “We’d better hurry,” he urged, reaching for her buttons. She laughed, sidestepping him neatly, but he was already unzipping his pants. She broke away, ran upstairs and threw herself across her bed, the white wicker bed of her girlhood, as he kicked the door closed behind him. Through her window, they could keep an eye on the teenagers down by the surf, would notice right away if one of them started toward the house. The forbidden aspect of making love with those four people close by made Chloe desire Ben even more, and her heart was beating fast as she reached up to pull him down beside her.

  He fumbled with her shirt, pushed it up to kiss the round, firm buds of her nipples. She traced his back, the whole length of his spine, while he slid her shorts aside and entered her. Their mouths found each other, mingled lips, teeth, tongue. Stayed together as long as it lasted and then beyond.

  This time they didn’t linger. They didn’t need to make love for long hours; this time, their purpose was to consummate a new understanding of their relationship. What they had together was more than mere like. And less than love. But more than either of them had expected, all the same.

  Chapter Ten

  On the night of Tara’s party, Chloe stayed busy grilling the meat for the fajitas, chopping vegetables and warming tortillas. Ben iced down cold drinks in the tub of the
washing machine, delivered a preventive lecture to Aaron and Greg about underage drinking and made a last-minute run to the store for more paper plates, since Chloe didn’t want to use Gwynne’s good dishes.

  Tara enjoyed being the center of attention as she described with gusto how she’d ridden all the way from Texas on a bus by herself, and later when she taught dance steps to Jill and a couple of goggle-eyed boys. After everyone ate, Lundy, the man Tara had met at the treasure museum, stopped by and told a few of his treasure-hunting yarns, which were embellished with sound effects and grand gestures. His stories were well received by the kids, but he begged off early, saying he had to pick up his grandchild.

  Ben saw Lundy to the door. Afterward, he walked up behind Chloe while she was at the stove and kissed the back of her neck, dodging as she threatened to clobber him with the frying pan.

  “We need more ice,” she said. “Do you have any in your apartment?”

  “A whole bag of it, set aside in my freezer for such an emergency,” he told her.

  “Ben,” Tara called from the parlor. “Did you move Greg’s guitar somewhere? He said he left it by the front door.”

  “It’s in the library, where it’s out of the way. I’ll get it,” he said.

  Chloe started for the annex, glad that she wasn’t keeping tabs on this lively group of kids all by herself.

  In Ben’s apartment, all the lights were on, and as she entered the room, Chloe spotted a couple sitting on the plastic chairs on the patio. The glass doors were open, their faces outlined in profile against the line of the dunes.

  “I don’t want to do that,” Jill said forcefully.

  “Do it for me,” Aaron pleaded.

  “I can’t.”

  “Jill, if you love me, you’ll—”

  Chloe did a one-eighty, thinking to get out of there as fast as she could before she heard more. She stumbled over a doorstop, and two heads whipped around so that she could see their faces clearly in the light from the room. “Just getting ice out of the freezer,” she caroled, embarrassed.

  “Can I help, Chloe?” Jill asked, and Chloe detected relief in her tone.

  “No, thanks,” Chloe told her, carrying the big bag of ice to the screen. “I’m going to turn off the lights in the apartment, so why don’t you two go up to the parlor. Greg is ready to play his guitar.”

  Aaron didn’t seem pleased at this suggestion, but considering the previous conversation, Chloe wouldn’t have expected him to be. Jill bounced up out of the chair, her smile tight and forced. “Sure, that sounds like fun. Those fajitas were really good, just like Tara said, Chloe. I wish my mom had that recipe.”

  “I’ll write it down for her,” Chloe promised. She switched on the outside light over the door. “See you upstairs.”

  Chloe watched as the two of them headed around the house, then closed and locked the glass door. Lost in thought, toting the bag of ice, she hurried through Ben’s apartment, turning off lights as she went. Aaron, of course, wasn’t the first boy to pressure his girlfriend for more than she wanted to give, but Chloe preferred not to hear his impassioned pleas on her own turf.

  When Chloe arrived back in the kitchen, Aaron and Jill were walking through the front door, Aaron frowning and Jill doing her best to appear nonchalant. The two of them slipped back into the crowd sitting on the parlor floor as some of the kids began to sing along with the music. Ben appeared from somewhere, took Chloe’s hand and led her to the library, where they stood in the shadows listening to the young voices raised in song.

  The party lasted until midnight, and then everyone piled into cars to go home. Tara, once she had said goodbye to her friends, came in from the front porch as the taillights of the last car disappeared up the driveway.

  She stretched elaborately. “It was a wonderful party, Chloe,” she said. “Thanks. You, too, Ben.”

  “We’ll clean up,” Chloe said.

  “I’ll help.” Tara went into the parlor and returned with a bag full of soiled cups and plates.

  “Hey,” Ben said to Tara, “I’ve been meaning to ask you and Jill if you could clean my apartment soon.”

  “Jill and I will work it into our busy schedule,” Tara told Ben. “Oops—that is, in between other things. Greg and Aaron invited us to tour the Kennedy Space Center one day this week. It’s only about an hour away. Can I go, Chloe? It sounds sooo cool.”

  “Sure, but who’s driving?” Chloe asked.

  “Greg’s got his mother’s car while she’s on a trip to see her parents.”

  “Let me know when you figure out what day you’re going.”

  “I will,” Tara said. “Is it okay if I call Mom? She asked me to call no matter how late, and I can’t wait to tell her how well Greg plays the guitar.”

  “Go ahead,” Chloe said, glad that Tara felt like talking with Naomi.

  Chloe and Ben worked side by side in the kitchen, wiping up spills and washing dishes. By the time they had finished, Tara was no longer talking on the phone, and she’d turned off the lamp in her room.

  Ben and Chloe exchanged a glance, and he kept his arm around her all the way through the annex hallway to his apartment. Butch came with them, waited patiently while they got into bed, then curled up beside Chloe’s feet.

  “I don’t have a litter box in here,” Ben said, almost as an afterthought before he fell asleep.

  “You don’t need one,” Chloe replied, nestling her head into the hollow of his shoulder, where it fit so well.

  “Huh?”

  She smiled into the darkness and promised before she closed her eyes, “I’ll explain later.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ben smelled the fire before he saw the flames. Smoke stung his nostrils, blocked his vision. He began to run as his eyes watered and his nose became congested. The flames licked at his feet, burned his skin.

  “Daddy! Daddy!”

  It was always the same. Ashley calling out for him, terrified, lost, scared. Sometimes he could hardly hear her voice over the roar and crackle of the fire. Often, he shouted, “I’m coming, honey!” though he had no recollection of what he’d actually said. Again, he fought through the crowd, which was milling around, some people running, some people scrambling over the fallen bodies of others. He could never find Ashley. Couldn’t reach her. All he had to go by was the sound of her voice, and sometimes it came from one direction, sometimes from another. He would twist and turn, struggling to get to Ashley. He’d run and shout her name and tell her Daddy would help her, find her, save her. And he never did. Never could.

  This time was different. Always before when he woke up, he was alone. This time when the dream was over, someone was holding him close. He gasped, still struggling, and heard Chloe’s alarmed voice.

  “Ben? You’re having a bad dream. Wake up, Ben.”

  In his anguish, he was trembling, shaking, and he went limp in her arms. He allowed himself to cherish her kisses, letting the tears dry cool upon his face.

  His heart rate slowly returned to normal, and he wrapped his arms around her. Chloe was soft and warm and welcoming, her curves fitting his angles, her breath gentle beside his ear. Ben closed his eyes against the unspeakable horror of his memories. Ashley was dead. He couldn’t have saved her; everyone said so. But that didn’t make his failure any easier to bear.

  “Okay now?” Chloe pushed herself up on an elbow and brushed the hair back from his forehead.

  “Yes. I’m sorry I woke you, Chloe. Let’s go back to sleep.”

  She was a shape above him in the dim room, and he couldn’t discern her expression. “Do you need to talk about it? You were so upset.”

  “No, let’s cuddle. It was just a bad dream.”

  She seemed to accept this and curled up beside him. “Did it have to do with your childhood?”

  For a moment, he didn’t connect what she’d said to their conversation in the kitchen that night. Then he recalled that he’d told her about his home life, and he supposed it was natural that she’d c
onnect the two things.

  “No,” he said. “It was another kind of dream.” The worst kind, he could have added but didn’t—a nightmare from which there was no relief and one that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  “Mmm,” Chloe said, sounding as if she were already half asleep.

  If she had pushed him, he might have told her, but he never would come right out and say that it was his fault he no longer had a daughter. He blamed himself every single day of his life and would until the day he died. But rather than confess his shortcomings to Chloe, he preferred that she never find out that Ashley had existed.

  CHLOE DIDN’T FALL ASLEEP AGAIN for a long while. Not for the first time, she sensed that Ben had deeper, sadder memories than he wished to reveal.

  To be honest, she was glad he hadn’t told her about them. Once Ben let her in on what was bothering him, she’d feel duty-bound to make things right. That, at this point in her life, wasn’t supposed to be an option. She was trying her hardest to focus on herself, never mind that she’d taken on responsibility for Tara. That job was turning out to be easier than Chloe had expected. Ben was another story. And she was planning to stay uninvolved in his problems, whatever they were and no matter how sympathetic she might be.

  This didn’t mean that she didn’t care. Oh, far from it. Ben was more important to her than she would have deemed possible when she’d first arrived at Frangipani Inn. The key was to keep things in perspective.

  When she woke up, she reached over and felt the bed beside her, but Ben wasn’t there. She smelled the bracing scent of fresh-brewed coffee wafting in from the kitchen and rolled onto her side just in time for Ben to swoop into the room and hand her a mug.

  “For you,” he said.

  She pushed herself to a sitting position, suddenly frantic. “Tara,” she said, panicky at the thought of her niece knocking on Chloe’s bedroom door and finding her gone.

  “Don’t worry,” Ben said. “Zephyr stopped by earlier and threw seashells at her window. They left in a rush to help a bunch of turtle babies find their way to the sea.”

  Chloe sagged against the pillow. “Tara didn’t look for me in my room?”