by Coralie Moss
Banging at her door pulled her away halfway through the task.
“Could I trouble you for some water?” Flecks of pungent wood chips littered Richie’s beard and shirt from his shoulders down his chest. His heavy, steel-toed boots and the belt at his hips gave him a rugged swagger Anna could appreciate.
She headed into the kitchen. “Of course. Can I make a sandwich for you or anything?”
“That’d be great, actually. I came right over when I got your call, and I didn’t pack a lunch today.” He downed the glass of water and a second. “I have another half hour in this one tree. Then I’ll be ready for a break. And I’ll eat anything you’re serving up.”
“Does Elaine know what a flirt you are?” She’d never been one for men with beards, but the auburn-tinged scruff Liam sported after his camping trip had introduced her inner thighs to a new realm of delights. The thickness of Richie’s beard had her wondering if she should ask Elaine her thoughts on the subject.
Richie grinned and stood a little taller. “It’s one of the things she likes most about me. And she also knows I’m a one-woman man.”
“Can I ask you something?” Anna asked later when Richie had finished his first sandwich and was preparing to demolish the second one she placed on his plate.
“Fire away.”
“What attracts you to an older woman like Elaine?” She poked at the pickle slices floundering at the bottom of the wide-mouthed jar.
The flush of outdoor exertion colored Richie’s cheeks. Her question deepened the rosy pink to an apple-red. “I’m happy to answer that, especially if you’ve got all day, but first I’d like to know why you’re asking.”
“Because I met a man a couple months ago, and we ended up having a thing, and now he’s gone, and I miss him. I really, really miss him.”
“Have you told him that?”
She shook her head and maneuvered the stack of pickles onto her plate.
“Well, here’s the thing with me and Elaine. She is so damn confident, and I’ve discovered confidence is a turn on. She knows who she is and what she wants, and there’s no drama.” He popped a handful of potato chips into his mouth and chewed, while Anna finished her rolled-up slices of ham and cheese.
Confidence. Hmm. She’d have to ponder where she stood on the confidence scale. Depended on the situation.
“And I’m talking in bed,” he continued, “and out of bed. I’ve had my share of lovers and a couple of long-term relationships, but this thing with Elaine feels different.”
“Do you want kids?”
“I’m one of five, and I have nieces and nephews out the wazoo. I love my family, and I love my solitude, and no, I’m not thinking about kids.” He chuckled as he finished the last sandwich half in two bites, swallowed, and wiped his mouth. “What about this guy you were with—does he want kids? Is that the problem?”
Anna pondered the question and shredded a paper towel before she tried to answer. “I don’t think kids are a priority with Liam. But he lives in New York, and his family is there and his business, and we didn’t get to asking each other if one of us should make a move.”
“Are you having a hard time letting go?”
“Yes, I am, and I’m older than Elaine, so I feel like there’s even more reason for Liam to want a younger woman for the long haul.”
“Well, this is only my opinion—and I don’t know you very well and I’ve never met this guy—but if you like each other’s company and the sex was good, what’s really stopping you from letting him know and asking for what you want?”
She stopped fiddling with her food. “You sure you aren’t a couples’ therapist masquerading as a tree monkey?”
“Speaking metaphorically, it’s all about getting rid of what’s cluttering up the view or making the area unsafe. And thanks for lunch,” he added, stepping forward to hug her when she came out of the kitchen, eyes damp and arms open.
“Thank you for listening, Richie. I needed a man’s perspective.”
“Anytime. And you’ll put in a good word with Elaine?”
“Absolutely.”
She followed up with her promise to Richie the next day, when Elaine came over at Anna’s request. She had received a letter from a law firm in New York City, and she wasn’t reading the legalese with a clear head.
“I think what they’re saying,” Elaine said, “is that you need to give a sworn statement about what happened on the boat so the boat owners can complete the paperwork they need to submit to a claim to their insurance company.”
Anna’s limited bandwidth for that kind of language was maxed out with the complexities of the familial property negotiations going on between Gigi and Gary.
“Oh, and they want you to join them on a ‘pre-deposition’ conference call,” Elaine added, “and it looks like Liam will be there too.”
“A what?” Anna wrenched her attention away from the series of emails speeding back and forth between her and her offspring.
“A conference call, complete with cameras, where they’ll ask you questions about what happened on the boat and then determine who’s liable for what.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“What?”
“Anna, when did you get this email?”
“A few days ago? I don’t know. Things have been chaotic. Gary and Suki are moving to Toronto soon so they can get settled before the baby arrives. Gigi’s decided she doesn’t want to leave Vancouver. The kids are having a hard time divvying up the responsibilities and complexities of dual home ownership.” She shrugged and added, “And I could really use a good you know what.”
“A good, sweaty fuck with a handsome, nimble-fingered man?”
“Nimble fingers, yes, and nimble other things as well, and the sweatier the better. What time tomorrow?”
“It says ten in the morning, their time, which is seven here.” Elaine removed her reading glasses and turned to appraise her friend. “That’s early. You might want to figure out what you’re wearing and sleep in it tonight.”
“Funny, El. It’s just a conference call,” Anna reassured herself.
“Yes, but remember how frantic you got when Daniel wanted to chat with you the first time? There’s even more at stake with this call. Liam will be there.”
“I know he’ll be there,” Anna said. “I’m choosing to ignore that part of the email.”
“Well, do your best and tell the truth. And if you end up doing jail time, I promise to visit you. It’s been a while since I had an excuse to visit New York City.”
“What a friend.”
The sky was dark when the alarm chimed and was still dark when Anna positioned herself in front of her laptop and began the sign-in process for the group call. She tested her camera, recoiled at her washed-out morning face, and hurriedly added mascara and a burgundy lip stain.
Her clothes were good to go.
Liam was intimately familiar with the cropped sweater she wore, having rid her of it more than once. She lifted the sweater off her breasts and sniffed. The garment had been stored away, folded and forgotten, and still carried his smell.
A notepad and pen were lined up on the table, next to a glass of water. She tried coffee, but her stomach was too jumpy to handle any caffeine. Her eyesore of a kitchen loomed behind her shoulders. Anna switched positions so the camera would show the view out the windows and sent out a silent wish for a spectacular sunrise. She wanted Liam to see what he was missing.
Everything he was missing.
The call began on a formal note. “Please state your full name and address.”
Liam sat at an oval table in what looked like a conference room. A cityscape lit by cold, winter light was barely visible through the window to his right. Anna had never seen Liam wear a tie. He looked good in men’s business attire. He’d also cut his hair and shaved off his beard. He was flanked by a woman and another man, both lawyers from the law firm Archibald and Archibald, both dressed similarly in suits.
“Ms. Granger,” said the male lawyer, “would you please describe what happened on my client’s boat, the Blood Vessel, on November first. And please state for our records what you were doing on the boat in the first place.”
“I was asked to assist with estimating the costs for upholstering the interior sleeping and sitting areas.”
“Who asked you?”
“Liam Galbraith.”
“Had any monies changed hands at that point, or had you signed a contract specifying a budget or exactly what was expected of you?”
“No, none of that,” she said. So far, so good. “I was there to take measurements and get a sense of the scale of the project. I always do that before I give a client a quote on any work. I’ve been asked to do custom upholstery work on many boats, and every project is different.”
“What is your relationship with Mr. Galbraith?”
“Uh, right now?” She was acutely aware of the slow heat building under her sweater, spreading over her chest and up toward her throat. Was it too late to duck into her bedroom and grab a scarf? “I guess you could say we’re acquaintances.”
“And what was your relationship with Mr. Galbraith when he asked for your professional input?”
Liam leaned toward the woman on his left. His elbow appeared to be resting on the nearest arm of her chair.
“We were friends,” Anna said. “Are friends.”
“Did you and Mr. Galbraith have a sexual relationship?”
Liam looked at Anna fully for the first time since the call had started. The woman sitting at the table stared at him in turn, visibly irritated. Or upset. Anna couldn’t pinpoint what the woman felt, but her body language conveyed something akin to surprise. And maybe annoyance.
“Yes, we did,” Anna answered.
“And were you and Mr. Galbraith engaging in sexual activity while the boat was taking on water?”
Liam interjected, “And what does that have to do with anything related to the insurance claim?”
“It is simply their contention that,” the lawyer continued dryly, “had you not been otherwise engaged in activities that had nothing to do with boat renovations, you might have noticed something was very wrong with the boat. Earlier action would have meant a far less costly repair bill, Mr. Galbraith.”
Agitation showed loud and clear in Liam’s body language, while Anna’s skin continued to prickle and flush. She didn’t want to lie, but Liam’s clients had been sold a less-than-seaworthy vessel, one that should never have been put in the water in the first place, not until it had been given a much more thorough inspection and the needed repairs.
She coughed discreetly and took the reins. “Mr. Galbraith and I were not engaging in sexual activity aboard the boat. We were assessing the condition of the front stateroom when we noticed water on the floorboards. It is my recollection the boat filled very quickly. It was also the professional opinion of the harbor master that our presence on the boat in no way caused—or compromised—the issue with the drainage system.”
Phew. Hold on boys, there’s more.
“In fact,” she continued, “because Mr. Galbraith and I were on board at the time of the system failure, repairs to the scuppers were underway much faster and the boat suffered far less damage than it would have, had the boat sunk or been underwater for any length of time.”
Liam offered Anna a discreet wink, to the consternation of the female lawyer. Anna’s curiosity was piqued. Who was this person? And why did it seem like her interest in Liam was more than lawyer to client?
“Cassidy, do we have the follow up to the initial damage report?”
The lightbulb blazed in Anna’s head. She had been nervous and distracted when introductions were being made and the lawyers’ first names hadn’t registered. The woman sitting next to Liam was Cassidy Archibald, of the law firm Archibald and Archibald. And the body language between her and Liam wasn’t giving her much of a clue about their current relationship status.
Cassidy passed a paper to the other lawyer. A series of fairly innocuous questions followed. Unsure of etiquette in these situations, Anna kept her engagement with the others to a minimum, refrained from volunteering information, and stuck to answering the other Archibald lawyer’s questions. When they finished, he thanked Anna for her time and dismissed her. She closed her laptop and remained seated, replaying the forty-five-minute interview in her head. She and Liam had not directly acknowledged one another, but neither had they avoided each other’s gaze, as much as one could when using laptop cameras.
His ex-girlfriend was a lawyer. And they looked close on camera, like they were together. Romantically together. Maybe. She never actually saw them touch.
Anna rose from the chair and moved to her bedroom. She changed out of her interview outfit, into an old long-sleeved cotton shirt and a worn pair of jeans. She folded the memory-laden sweater and returned it to its protective zippered bag.
Her belly begged off breakfast, even as the house nagged her to finish any of the sorting, tossing, and packing projects she’d started. The bare, wood-paneled walls were tired of living in a state of constant chaos, and with a few hours’ effort Anna could box up everything she wasn’t keeping. She made a pot of coffee and started back in, the pangs in her heart threatening to derail her focus for the rest of the day.
She was still sorting belongings late in the afternoon when incoming clouds spurred on by feisty gusts of wind darkened the sky. Her phone rang. She eventually located it inside one of the un-taped boxes.
Liam. He’d left a message.
“Anna, I need to see you. I’m …” was all that made it onto the message before his voice cut off.
She returned his call, but when his phone kept going to voicemail, she sent a text. “Got part of your message. Try again.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Liam hadn’t called by the next morning. Anna pocketed her phone and a measuring tape and left for the other family cottage. An early morning group email informed her that Gary Jr. and Gigi had come to an agreement about the renovations and had a list of projects they hoped she would be willing to supervise. The détente in the tension between them was a relief, and the work would distract her from the loose ends at her own cottage.
Finished with measurement-taking and list-making, she drove to a hidden harbor and parked her truck. One of her favorite trails started near the rotted boat ramp and continued uphill through stands of fir trees, a field of lichen-covered boulders, and a Garry oak forest. Edged by dried grasses and filled with scavenging birds, the trail ended at a ridge overlooking the Gulf and San Juan Islands and the mountains of British Columbia and Washington state.
She wanted a clear head and a clear way forward, and every one of her questions circled back to Liam. The view offered no answers.
On the drive home, her phone beeped with message alerts, and a light snow started to fall. Wide, lazy flakes, the kind that melted moments after landing, drifted past her headlights and disappeared onto the road’s dark surface. While it lasted, the effect was magical.
Anna pulled into her driveway and cut the truck’s headlights. Snow and the weight of whatever clouds the flakes fell from muffled sound inside the two-seater cab. She rolled her window down halfway and inhaled through her nose. Snow had its own smell. Tonight, that smell mingled with the smoke coming from a neighbor’s fireplace. She closed her eyes and breathed in again.
When she opened her eyes, lights from the MacMasters’ cottage glowed between the trees separating the two properties. The lights had been off for more than two months, since Liam had left for New York. A Wednesday in the middle of February was an odd start to a rental. She’d go over in the morning and introduce herself.
Dropping her bag inside the back door, she fished the phone from a pocket of her canvas coat, toed off her boots, and scrolled through a short stack of messages. Elaine forwarded links to the website she was developing for their floating bed and breakfast idea. Gigi and Gary Jr. wanted her opin
ion on another renovation project question.
Again. She worried at her lower lip. Daily runs to the other house weren’t part of the deal they’d struck. She’d best nip in the bud this notion she had nothing better to do.
Daniel had left a message too, something about having a big piece of news to share. His insistence on including her in his life surprised her at first, but their continued contact was beginning to feel important. She’d call him in the morning.
Liam’s text was next. “Just wanted to say hi.”
That was all, no explanation about the unfinished message he’d sent after the video deposition, no hint of anything in his voice. She shivered and placed the phone face down on the counter. Her house was cold after a day spent visiting job sites, and there was no one to call for company. Elaine was off-island, looking for sunshine and culinary inspiration somewhere much closer to the equator. The storage pod was close to full, but she wasn’t at all interested in dealing with the half-filled boxes in her living room.
She’d make dinner and take a book to bed, and tomorrow would bring her one day closer to spring.
Stepping to the back door, she reached for the stubby curtain cord the same moment footsteps sounded on the deck. Something between a squeak and a scream left her mouth as a figure peered at her from underneath the bottom of the window shade, waving a mitten-covered hand.
“Anna, it’s me. Liam.”
She’d neglected to leave a porch light on. The tall figure pressing his forehead to the small window on the upper half of the door was, indeed, her one-time neighbor, study buddy, and lover.
“What are you doing here?” Anna wasn’t ready to fling the door open all the way and throw herself at him. But she was close.
“Didn’t you get my messages?” His breath fogged the window. He rubbed an area clear again with the edge of his palm.
“Messages? You mean the one you left after the conference call?”
“I left more than that.”
“Not on my phone. What did your message say?”