The Second Chance

by Ann Maree Craven

  She grinned wickedly. “You betcha. Can I surprise you?”

  I nodded. “And one of Mrs. Anderson’s pickles.”

  “Hunter,” she called. “Can you ring Carter up?”

  Mallory’s co-owner, Hunter, appeared, a more subdued smile on his face. “Hey, man. That’ll be nine dollars.”

  I passed over a twenty. When he made change, I put it in the tip jar and went to wait at one of the white plastic tables nearby.

  The square was busy, and though people glanced my way, they generally left me alone. I wondered if they could tell it was what I needed.

  Mallory set a plate in front of me. “Four cheeses, prosciutto, with jalapeño chutney.”

  “That’s sounds absolutely disgusting.”

  She took a seat opposite me. “Trust me.”

  I did. I took a bite. At first, it tasted strange, but then all the flavors hit me and I quickly took another.

  Mallory nodded in satisfaction. “Now, you can tell me why you’re here in the middle of the day instead of at the office.”

  Mallory and Hunter had both worked for my father at Superiore Bay Winery. Hunter was fired, and Mal quit for various reasons. It was the best thing they could have done because their food truck was now a staple of Superiore Bay.

  “You know I hate being there.” I’d spent a lot of time over the last few months eating Mallory’s concoctions. In that same time, my father started demanding more of my involvement in the business.

  That would probably come to an end now.

  Mallory pinned me with a look.

  I swallowed. “What?”

  “Who is she?”

  I laughed at that. “You think this is about a woman?” I hadn’t seriously dated anyone since high school, since I was shown even good things can’t last. “It’s not a woman.”

  It sort of was. If I’d just kept my flirting to myself, the distributor might not have thrown me out and canceled the contract. Then, my dad would have one less reason to hate me.

  She sighed. “It’s The Ashford then.”

  I took another bite, not answering her.

  “Carter, he’s a jerk. We all know it. You can’t take anything he says seriously.”

  “He’s also my father.”

  “That doesn’t mean his words should hold any more weight.”

  “Hello, dears.” Mrs. Abernathy stopped at the edge of our table.

  I had to hold back a groan. “Hi, Mrs. A. How are you today?”

  “Well, you know, it’s a lovely day for people watching.”

  I knew what that meant. She was looking for gossip to send into the Weekly Wine, the town’s newspaper that really just spread rumors.

  “It sure is.” Mallory smiled up at her. “It was lovely to see you.”

  I suppressed a grin at the dismissal.

  When she left, I laughed. “Well, looks like you and I will be the next couple in the sightings section.”

  “Hunter,” she yelled. “I’m running away with Carter Ashford.”

  “Good choice,” he called back, waving from the truck.

  She laughed and stood. “I should get back. Just remember, your opinion of you means more than your father’s.”

  As she walked away, I started to wonder what that opinion was.

  Movement on the far sidewalk caught my eye, and I smiled. My favorite relative meandered, as if she had nowhere to be. I checked the time on my phone, realizing the high school had let out almost an hour ago.

  Dumping my empty plate in the trash, I ran to catch up with my cousin.

  “Em!” I called.

  She didn’t hear me, lost in her own world as usual.

  “Emery.” I grabbed her arm, and she pivoted on one foot, rotating to bring her knee up to my side.

  Pain spiraled through me, and I fell onto my butt.

  Her jaw dropped open as she looked at me and yanked ear buds out of her ears. “Carter, I’m so sorry.”

  I winced as I stood. “Well, someone has been practicing their self-defense.” Her mom was big on her kids being able to protect themselves.

  My dad thought money solved everything.

  I’d only gotten to know Emery and her brothers to spite my father since he’d forbidden it after a falling out with his brother. Then, I’d found out I enjoyed spending time with them more than my own siblings.

  Emery was looking at me expectantly, and I realized I hadn’t said anything. “Oh, I was just saying hi. I saw you walking and really needed to talk to someone who was related to me and didn’t hate me.”

  Her confusion turned to sadness, and I knew she understood. She didn’t really know my father, but I’m sure hers had told stories.

  “Dad is cooking out on the grill tonight. Want to come?”

  I didn’t mention that I’d just eaten because it sounded like everything I needed. “Okay.”

  Emery rolled her eyes and gripped my arm to drag me with her. “I’m sorry about your side.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  One corner of her mouth curved up, and she pushed strawberry blond hair over her shoulders. “I’m really not.”

  “Brat.”

  “Slacker.”

  I slid an arm over her shoulders, wondering what it would have been like having this kind of relationship with any of my siblings. Instead, Dad pitted us against each other. I didn’t want to be in competition with Conner or to envy Conrad for getting out.

  And my sister… well, none of us knew Jorgina anymore since she hadn’t come home since she left for college.

  Welcome to the Ashford family.

  Chapter Three

  I ran along the beach, the sound of Garret’s laughter trailing behind me.

  “Catch me if you can!” I charged through the Hawaiian surf, playfully dodging my husband’s grasp.

  I startled myself awake with the sound of my happy laughter. Confused, I glanced around the strange room, forgetting for a moment where I was.

  Grandma’s. I rolled onto my back with a groan. My room was the same as it was when I used to spend every break from school here. I still had posters on the walls, and seashells I’d gathered from the beach lined my bookshelves housing the books I’d outgrown ages ago.

  I wiped my eyes, trying to get the image of my last vacation with Garret out of my head. It was only last year we’d gone to Hawaii. It was the first time since our honeymoon that we’d taken time off work together.

  Now, just months later, I was in my childhood bedroom, contemplating how soon I could get a divorce. It was over. We’d been happy once, but it was no secret my soon-to-be ex-husband had a wandering eye. He liked to flirt. I’d never held it against him until he’d given me a reason not to trust him.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about forgiving him for his slip-up. I knew when I married him he wasn’t perfect. If I thought we truly had a future together, I could forgive him for the infidelity. It was just a kiss after all—that I saw. But for a long time, I had questioned whether we were right for each other. Plus, it made me wonder about the things I hadn’t seen, things I might not forgive so easily.

  I rolled over onto my stomach, blowing a strand of hair out of my face. That was why I was here, I supposed. To figure out what was next for me. A single divorcee at twenty-eight? With a fresh start laid out before me? Or a married woman, with a husband I’d never fully trust again? One I blamed for the lack of upward momentum in my career.

  Garret liked to keep me just successful enough so I was happy with my job, but never so successful as to eclipse him. Did I want to be with someone who would hold me back like that?

  Shaking thoughts of Garret out of my head, I sat up, running my hands through my messy chestnut brown hair. I could use a shower, but that would require caring. Right now, coffee was more important.

  I threw on a pair old shorts and a soft green cardigan over my t-shirt before I headed downstairs to see what Grandma was baking. She baked most mornings, and I could do with a few slices of her banana bread
. All problems could be fixed with Grandma’s banana bread and iced coffee.

  “There she is!” Grandma was all smiles for me when I joined her in the crowded kitchen.

  “Hi.” I pulled my sweater around me and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Didn’t realize we had a full house.”

  I turned to head back upstairs to make myself more presentable. I could just hear my mother now. “A proper young woman always looks her best before she leaves her room, no matter what she has planned for the day.” My mother was not into yoga pants and sweatshirts.

  “Oh, you look just fine.” Grandma coerced me back into the kitchen. “You’re still the prettiest one in this room.”

  “That’s not saying a whole lot, Bev.” Mrs. Peterson chuckled, and the other ladies burst out laughing.

  Grandma and her besties: Mrs. Jeffries, Mrs. Peterson, and Mrs. Abernathy. Otherwise known as the town gossips.

  “Somebody get this girl some coffee.” I climbed up on the bar stool with a smile for my grandma and her closest friends.

  “From what I hear, you need something a bit stronger than coffee.” Mrs. Abernathy smirked as she filled a mug for me.

  “It’s not even nine, Mrs. Abernathy.” I let a teasing tone of shock into my voice.

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Mrs. Peterson said.

  “Let’s start with banana bread and coffee, and I’ll work my way up to the hard stuff.”

  “Fresh from the toaster with butter, just the way you like it.” Grandma slid a plate in front of me.

  “Now, tell us all about that fancy newspaper you’ve been running in Boston.” Mrs. Jeffries hopped onto the seat next to me.

  I snorted into my coffee. “Definitely not running it.” My husband… my ex, would have a fit at the very idea of me in his job. “I write for the paper, Mrs. Jeffries.”

  “And your articles are the best thing in that rag if you ask me.” Grandma moved to take a pan of roasting vegetables from the oven. Butternut squash, onions, and acorn squash for her famous butternut squash soup.

  “Your grandma has clipped every article you’ve ever written.” Mrs. Abernathy sipped her coffee.

  “Of course I have.” Grandma lifted her chin proudly. “Though, that husband of yours would do well to give you a decent assignment every once in a while. That last story you did on the surge in the seal population on the Eastern seaboard was a puff piece if I’ve ever seen one.”

  “Ex-husband, Grandma.” I fiddled with my mug, wondering what she really thought of my impending divorce. She’d married my grandfather when she was eighteen, and they’d been happy together every day of their long marriage.

  She was lucky.

  “What happened there?” Mrs. Abernathy asked.

  “You lasted twelve minutes, June.” Grandma dusted her pan of roasting vegetables with coarse sea salt, turning to shove them back in the oven to slow cook for the rest of the morning. “We talked about this.” Grandma slammed the oven door, turning with her hands on her bony hips.

  “I deviated from your list of pre-approved topics of discussion.” Mrs. Abernathy drained her coffee cup, and I wondered if she’d added a little something to it.

  “It’s fine, Grandma.” I nibbled at a crusty edge of banana bread. “We are taking some time apart. For the moment.”

  “And?” Mrs. Abernathy pushed. “That can’t be it.”

  “He kissed someone else, and I don’t know if I want to move forward with our marriage.” I shrugged, knowing I wouldn’t get out of this that easy.

  “A kiss? That’s all?” Mrs. Peterson giggled, slapping her hand over her mouth. “I mean, that’s awful, but it could be a lot worse.”

  “It’s not the kiss.” I sighed, settling in for the grilling. Even though that moment felt like the final straw with Garret. I’d heard it from so many people, that a kiss meant nothing. But it did. It meant plenty.

  “Then, what is it, girl?” Grandma slapped a box of chocolate macaroons on the counter. Great, we were already moving on to the hard stuff. I could eat the entire box myself and not even feel guilty for not sharing. Grandma’s macaroons were like magic little clouds of chocolate pillows with creamy chocolate centers.

  Four hands went into the box at once, and I smiled, glad my crappy marriage was a source of entertainment for Grandma and her friends. At least it was good for something.

  “I don’t know.” I shoved a macaroon in my mouth, the whole darn thing. It was delicious.

  “Nice trick.” Grandma leaned against the counter, pouring another round of coffee. “You know we’re just going to wait for you to chew.”

  I snorted, spraying crumbs everywhere. I loved these women. They were nosy. They were rude and smart-mouthed, but they were the best people I knew.

  “Fine. I surrender.” I swallowed, choking down the macaroon with a gulp of coffee. “I don’t know if I want to be married, period.” I glanced around the room at the older women who’d all spent more than half of their lives married to men they loved and respected.

  The room grew silent, and for one terrifying moment, I thought I’d hurt their feelings.

  “I hear that.” Mrs. Jeffries lifted her mug to her lips, and the other ladies laughed.

  “We needed husbands back when we were your age,” Mrs. Peterson said. “It was expected of our generation, but you girls today have options we never had. If you don’t love Garret enough to stay with him forever—if he doesn’t respect you enough to treat you as an equal in your job and in your marriage, to stay faithful to you—then don’t stay in a marriage that no longer works for you, dear.” She placed a hand over mine. “Marriage is sacred, but it’s a two-person job.”

  Tears welled in my eyes, and I shook my head. “How do you get that, and he doesn’t?”

  “Because he’s a man, dearie. Sometimes, you’re like me and you get a good one the first time around. And sometimes, you just need a do-over. There’s nothing wrong with second chances.”

  “Cheers to that.” Grandma lifted her mug, and her friends followed suit, waiting for me to lift my cup to join their toast.

  “Thanks, ladies. I missed you all.”

  “Now that you’re back, don’t be a stranger,” Mrs. Abernathy said, pacing to the door to pick up the morning paper. “News is here, girls.” She tossed the Boston Globe on the stack of mail by the door and laid a fresh copy of the Weekly Wine on the counter.

  “What’s the latest, June?” Grandma asked, peering over her glasses at the local paper.

  “Things with Selena and Conner are heating up.” Mrs. Abernathy smoothed a hand across the paper. “Those two are going to get married soon. I just know it.”

  “Not until that place of hers is open and running,” Mrs. Peterson said. “I heard it was going to take at least a year to build it, maybe two. If I know Selena, that girl isn’t going to settle down until she’s good and ready.”

  “What business?” It was so strange to hear about Selena Contreras like she was a stranger when she’d been one of my best friends growing up. And to find out she was with Conner Ashford? That did not sound like the Lena I knew. With the exception of Carter Ashford, she hated that family.

  “She’s expanding Orchard Hill Farm, building a slew of new stores and restaurants. It’s going to be a real attraction when it opens.”

  “Oh my, Mallory and Hunter might be expecting!” Mrs. Abernathy set the paper down. “It’s not confirmed, but someone saw her shopping for a basinet.”

  “It could be for a friend’s baby shower. Let’s not get excited yet,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “Can you imagine those two raising a baby in that Cheddar Chariot of theirs?” She and the others laughed.

  “And it sounds like Conrad Ashford broke up with that awful girl he was seeing from Hidden Cove.”

  “Why is she awful?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.

  “She’s from Hidden Cove.” Four sets of eyes turned on me, looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Right, I forgot about
the rivaling towns of southern Maine.” I reached for the paper. “What is this garbage anyway? The gossip section?” I flipped through the few pages that made up Superiore Bay’s weekly newspaper. “Wait, that’s it?” I turned back to the front page where pictures of Selena and Conner dining at a local bistro stared back at me. How was this news?

  “Where’s the rest of it?”

  “Oh, honey, the Weekly Wine has been struggling for years. The people who run it now work as volunteers.” Grandma took the “paper” from me. “Why don’t you go grab a shower, and we’ll have lunch ready by the time you come back down?” She passed the paper to Mrs. Peterson, careful to smooth out the pages I’d wrinkled.

  “All right, Grandma. I’ll be back later, but we’re talking about that rag you call a newspaper.” I grabbed a fistful of macaroons and my cup of coffee and left the old ladies to their gossip.

  Chapter Four

  It’s for your own good, son.

  Whenever my dad called me “son,” I always knew I wouldn’t like whatever he had in store for me.

  A job.

  One that didn’t include sitting in that stuffy office of his.

  He’d waited for my reaction, for me to refuse so he could threaten to take away my trust fund—again. It was his favorite tactic. But I didn’t give him that satisfaction. Instead, I nodded and smiled, and left my father gaping behind me.

  Honestly, working at the Ashford Wine Bar seemed a whole lot better than working anywhere near either my father or Conner. I wasn’t afraid of hard work. In fact, I’d spent a lot of time working with Lena in the orchard over the years. It was just the wine business that gave me hives.

  Technically, the wine bar wasn’t “in the business.” It was just a bar, and I knew bars.

  I pushed open the door to Hugga Mugga, a smile on my face at the prospect of doing something productive outside my father’s reach. Sure, he owned the place, but he wouldn’t be my boss. That honor belonged to Vic Benson, a woman after my own heart. Well, if I was twenty years older.

  It was Saturday afternoon, and I had a few hours before I had to report to my sentence, er, job. When I stepped up to place my order, I was surprised to see my cousin Emery behind the counter.