Back to McGuffey's

by Liz Flaherty

  * * *

  IF HE WAS going to have more than his customary one Guinness, Ben decided, it was good to be with his brothers when he did. That way, if he did tell any secrets or commit other indiscretions, there was no one to hear except people who already knew all there was to know about him. And vice versa.

  As he sat between Patrick and Dylan at the bar, Ben reflected on how just one thing was missing to make the night complete: he needed to find somebody to dance with.

  Kate. He would dance with Kate. She was the only one who knew all the steps, whose feet fit effortlessly between his. She’d been here a little bit ago.

  He should’ve married Kate, that was for sure, back when they’d been together. She’d expected it, their families had expected it—truth was, he’d expected it, too. Wanted it. Sort of. But life had all become too much for him by the time they parted ways. Going into a profession he wasn’t sure he liked. Giving up a lifelong dream of being an Olympic skier to be a medical student who never got enough sleep. “Do what you need to do,” Kate had told him in a soft voice when he complained, “and do it for you. Your dad will accept it.”

  When all was said and done, though, he hadn’t been able to burst the bubble around Tim McGuffey’s dreams for his second-born—the family’s sacrifices to the cause of education had been too great. The time came and went when Ben could have been a contender in the downhill—if indeed he ever could have.

  But he was angrier than he knew, and told his father at the end of an argument that he wouldn’t be coming back to Fionnegan to practice when he finished medical school. He wouldn’t be returning to the Northeast Kingdom at all. He’d be staying in Boston. He might not love being a doctor, but he loved the city. The decision had been made over time, not in an angry moment, but it had been difficult. It had left him, in a term he’d read but never used, emotionally bereft.

  Harder and colder yet was reaching the conclusion he wasn’t going to marry the girl he’d loved as long as he could remember. Sweet Kate, who loved every rocky inch of Fionnegan and Wish Mountain. Who would settle for a couple of kids but really wanted a basketball team complete with a sixth man. Who’d always arranged her dreams around his—she’d even planned on going to nursing school although the sight of blood made her pass out like the proverbial light.

  Even now, thirteen years later, the memory of making that decision made him think of oatmeal. He’d been sitting in a hotel dining room eating a packet of the instant maple-and-brown-sugar variety and thinking how much he’d prefer a bowl of his mother’s steel-cut oats. And then it occurred to him that if he married Kate and moved her to Boston and the lifestyle he’d decided to live, she’d in effect be eating instant oatmeal for the rest of her life instead of on the occasional weekend the way she did now.

  If that wasn’t bad enough—and he thought it was—if he gave up Boston and moved back to the Northeast Kingdom, he would stay angry and it would be like...yeah, like eating instant oatmeal the rest of his life.

  So he’d taken a long weekend and gone home. He’d broken up with her over his mother’s Guinness stew at McGuffey’s. Kate had been dry-eyed and calm, actually agreeing that parting for the short term might be a good thing. She hadn’t wanted to stay and listen to music or even long enough to finish her diet cola with a cherry in it, so he’d driven her to the apartment over the bookstore she’d rented when her folks moved to Tennessee. Ben had kissed her good-night and when he’d held her, letting her go was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  And the stupidest. Time hadn’t done a single thing to alleviate that. He’d hurt Kate and, later on, Nerissa, all because life hadn’t gone precisely the way he wanted it to.

  And here he was back at McGuffey’s. Dylan had even cooked Guinness stew tonight. Now, an hour past closing time, Ben looked around the empty bar. “I miss Kate. I wanted to dance,” he said. “I didn’t even see her leave.”

  “She took off early,” said Dylan. “But then again, she has to serve breakfast in—” he looked at his watch “—four hours.”

  Suddenly Ben had an inspiration that could have been fueled only by the second Guinness—at least that’s what he would blame it on later. “If I call her, she will come,” he said solemnly, reaching for the phone on the bar. He scowled when Dylan snatched the receiver before he could get to it.

  “I know,” said Dylan, “and she would probably build you a baseball field in her spare time, too, but you’re not going to call her.”

  Ben scowled. “Losing track of birth order here, aren’t we, Dylan?”

  Kate and Dylan had always been close, Ben reflected. They’d been in the same grade at school and were all the time taking the same classes or going to the same events. Ben went, too, when he wasn’t skiing, but for two years, when he was in college and the other two were still in high school, Dylan had taken Kate to more dances than Ben had.

  It used to tick him off. But Kate had always treated Dylan with sisterly affection and nothing more. At least, Ben assumed it was sisterly—it had that disdainful air about it the sisters in his acquaintance—particularly Morgan—always assumed.

  “She wouldn’t mind if I called her,” he said doggedly, staring at the cups of coffee Dylan set on the bar for the three of them.

  “No.” Dylan drank, looking at him over the rim of the cup. “I’d mind, though. She’s tired. Between the B and B and here, she’s putting in a lot of hours.”

  “Did I tell you guys she wants a baby?” asked Ben. “She’s thirty-seven and she wants to have her first baby. She’d be fifty-six when it starts college, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Can’t blame her for wanting kids,” said Patrick. “We wanted two, had four, and they’re the best thing I ever did.” He smiled foolishly, the expression oddly touching. “Well, marrying Wendy’s the best thing, probably. But we were way up in our thirties when Sophie was born, Ben. It’s not too late.”

  “You wanted the kids. Not just you and not just Wendy. You both did.” Ben thought of Kate, how at home she looked with a baby in her arms. He liked little ones, too. He liked delivering them, making faces at them so they’d stop crying in church or on planes, and having them crawl into his lap and go to sleep after both he and the baby had eaten too much. More than liking them, Ben thought he could safely say he loved kids.

  As long as they were other people’s.

  * * *

  THE GUESTS WERE both men, both good-looking. Their bikes, expensive ones, were on a rack on the back of their car. It was expensive, too. They had the same last name—Dehart—so Kate thought they were probably father and son.

  “There will be a trail ride tonight.” She directed their attention to the brochure on the bulletin board just inside the door of the inn. “Twenty miles, starting at the trailhead behind Traveler’s Rest. I can collect the fee and give you a handy-dandy T-shirt right here if you’re interested. The ride’s being sponsored by the Chain and Sprocket bike shop and funds raised are going to—” Kate stopped, shuffling through the notes on the desk “—Fionnegan Academy.” She smiled and fluffed her hair, which probably made it look even messier than it usually did. “That’s where I went to school, so obviously it’s a superior institution of education.”

  The older man gave her an appreciative look, then shared a silent conversation with his companion. The taller one, who appeared to be college age, responded, “Sounds great. We weren’t going to ride until tomorrow, but there’s no reason to wait.”

  “Several of us are leaving from here at eight o’clock if you just want to come to the lobby then. When we get back, I’ll make hot chocolate and set out the liniment bottle. It’s a hilly ride, and I swear we only ride up, never down. I think that’s how Wish Mountain got its name, because the person naming it wished it had a downhill side.” Kate grinned. “Of course, I get first crack at the liniment.”

  She hadn’t lost any weight since losing her desk job—Penny’s pastries and Dylan’s kitchen creations saw to that—but bicycling with Ben nearly
every day was firming up muscles she hadn’t thought about for years. It didn’t seem to be helping the faint lines at the corners of her eyes or the little bit of extra flesh her jaws seemed to be developing on their own, but she figured she couldn’t have everything.

  “The trails around here can get very challenging,” the older guest observed as she showed them to their rooms. “Do you ride them all?”

  She grinned. “Not even close, although I’ve reached the point I don’t start whining until everyone else is ahead and can’t hear me.”

  By the time she came downstairs, she knew the older man’s name was Colby and that he was indeed the father of River—named not after the “movie guy,” but because his mother’s maiden name was Riverton. Kate knew River had just finished his second year at Dartmouth and that Colby was single and would be interested in buying her a late dinner if she had time. He was divorced and had been for a long time. River called him the king of the weekend dads and the two men laughed together.

  She thought she might take that dinner. If she had time. Friendship with Ben was working out fine—she loved spending time with him—but their past precluded their relationship from building into something more. Maybe it was time to look to the future.

  The afternoon was busy. The inn filled to capacity. After her third circuit on the stairs with extra towels and pillows, Kate regretted her new self-imposed ban on using the elevator for anything except carrying up luggage. There wasn’t really all that much wrong with the size of her hips.

  Samantha, Penny and Dan’s oldest daughter, arrived when the cyclists were gathering at the side of the inn for the ride. “I’m here to be the innkeeper while you’re gone.” She stepped behind the desk. “It was this or ride herd on the boys while Mom and Dad ride. Being senior to Mary Kate does have its privileges.”

  “Where are they?” Kate scanned the small crowd, exchanging a smile with Ben. He was kneeling beside Debby’s bicycle, checking her back tire. Where was Jayson on this rare day off for his sister? Even though his riding skills improved every day, he wasn’t ready for the trails. Corners were an ongoing concern, and Kate didn’t think he’d ever ridden in the dark. Not only that, there was no way he could ride twenty miles on flat ground, much less this terrain.

  “They’ll meet you at the trailhead. Mom was still looking for her helmet when I left.” Samantha was smiling, but it wasn’t at Kate. Her gaze was held by River Dehart. “Have fun. I’ll call you if there are any emergencies.”

  “Thanks, Sam.” Kate gave her a hug, noting as she always did that the first baby she’d ever loved with every fiber of her being was now four inches taller than she was. “He’s cute, isn’t he?” she mumbled close to her ear.

  “Way cute.” Sam’s lips didn’t move. “Be sure and tell him I’m free for the summer.”

  Kate snorted delicately. “I’ll just tell him your dad’s a cop and your mom has a black belt in...something martial artsy.”

  “She does not.”

  “He doesn’t know that.” Kate beamed at her. “See you later.”

  Much of the ride was on single-track—which meant not talking. Much of it was uphill as well, so Kate didn’t say much even when she was able to ride beside someone. Ben, who rode much better than she did, was far ahead of her, riding with Debby when they were on the old farm road and able to sprawl out more. Kate had to swallow a lump of resentment that felt far too much like jealousy.

  “You ride well.”

  She hadn’t noticed Colby Dehart slowing until he was beside her.

  “Thank you,” she said, “but I don’t. I only ride because all my friends do and because I inherited my sister’s bike when she moved to Tennessee. She rides there, but she does it on a new bike. I like walking better, particularly when I can look up at the hills instead of climbing them.”

  “I started when River was in middle school. It was the only thing I ever suggested we do on weekends that he didn’t hate, so I learned to like it, too. I actually prefer driving.”

  Kate laughed. “My best friend, Penny, and her husband started because it was something they could do with all four kids that didn’t use gas. And challenging rides meant no one could breathe well enough to talk back.”

  “Yeah, that worked for me for a while, at least until River got a lot better than me. What do you do, Kate? Are you a full-time innkeeper? Not that the inn’s not delightful—it is—but you don’t seem the type to take care of it full-time.”

  Although it was dark by now, Kate could still read the interest in his face. Maybe this would be a way to get back on the socializing wagon. She usually dated fairly frequently, but she hadn’t this summer. Since the fire.

  Since Ben had come back.

  She liked the busyness of her life these days, but she missed going out. She missed dressing up and going to dinner and a movie in another town where she didn’t know all the other patrons. She loved McGuffey’s, but every time she ate there, she ended up behind the bar or playing darts with people she’d known all her life. People who had spouses and kids she knew, too. People she thought just might feel sorry for her because she had neither. She’d even heard it said a few times after the fire.

  Poor little Kate Rafael. No family around and now not even a house or a job.

  “It’s a long story,” she said, smiling at Colby. “What about you? What do you do? Where is it you’re from?”

  “I’m from Concord—New Hampshire, not Massachusetts—and I’m a structural engineer. That’s not always exciting and sometimes in this economy, it’s downright scary, but I have a corner office and a secretary who’s so good she could replace me in a heartbeat. I also have most of my teeth and do my own laundry. Sound good so far?” The teeth gleamed when he grinned at her. “Now, about that dinner—”

  “Kate?” Ben dropped back to ride on her other side, nodding amiably at Colby. “I promised I’d close the tavern tonight. Morgan and Jon are going away for the weekend. Did you want to go over with me and have a late supper after we have chocolate at the inn?”

  It only took her a few seconds of thought and a hard bump from riding over a small hole in the trail before she answered. “Uh, no, Ben, I can’t tonight, but thanks.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “NO KATE TONIGHT?” Morgan stepped out from behind the bar at McGuffey’s, waving a greeting to the customer who walked in behind Ben.

  “Nah, she was busy.” Knowing who she was busy with didn’t sit at all well, either. Ben kissed his little sister’s forehead and smiled at her fiancé. The expression felt forced. “You guys have a good weekend. What do you want me to tell the folks when they call and ask where you are?”

  Morgan rolled her eyes at him. “If you feel compelled to tell them anything, say I’m thirty-five and my biological clock is going off like a cuckoo on steroids.”

  Well, that must be going around. “Just be safe.” He waved them off and stepped behind the bar.

  “A round for the Red Hats,” requested Mandy, the waitress, handing him a slip of paper with the list of drinks on it. “Coffee for the designated driver. It should be fresh, I think. Dylan made it just before he left.”

  Ben nodded, squinting from the list to the crowded table of women wearing red hats and purple shirts and being...noisy. He smiled, thinking of his mother, who joined them when she was here. Kate said her mother did, too. He’d love to be here on a night when they were both there. Those two women, different as night and day, could occasionally get—what was his father’s word?—raucous, that was it.

  Sometimes he loved tending bar. He pulled out the tequila. “Are we running a margarita special by any chance?”

  “Nope. They just like them.”

  “Then let’s have a special just for them. Two dollars—bad for revenue but good PR.” He got the blenders going, remembering that these women liked them slushy and on the weak side. “Is there any food left? I forgot to ask Morgan.”

  “Just some potato soup and part of a loaf of bread they saved for yo
u.”

  “That’s good.” He loaded the tray with the drinks and a fresh bowl of popcorn and added the coffee. “Busy night?”

  “Off and on.”

  “You can split early if you want to. You’ve had a long week.” He had, too, but he wanted to be busy. He didn’t want to think about why Kate had refused to come with him tonight, but it seemed as though he could think about little else. They were friends—that was what they’d agreed on and what they’d enjoyed these past weeks. It had been easy, but maybe the lack of stress had been simply because neither of them was seeing anyone else.

  Relief lightened the weariness in the waitress’s eyes. “I appreciate it. Let me do a last check first. What if you get called to the hospital?”

  “I’ll call...Dylan.” He’d started to say he’d call Kate, but something in her eyes earlier tonight warned him against it. So much for easy.

  “How was the ride?” Mandy asked when she came behind the bar to reconcile the money in her apron. “Some of the out-of-towners came in before you did. They said it was great.”

  “It was.” It had been Debby’s first night ride and she’d been so excited. He’d liked helping her get started, but he’d been just as glad when a few of the college kids took his place behind her. She was a sweetheart, mature for her age because of the demands life had made on her, but she was still twenty-two; he’d rather talk to a thirty-seven-year-old.

  But when he went back to ride with Kate, the sophisticated-looking guest from the inn was with her, and they were talking a mile a minute. That was when Ben saw the look in her eyes that warned him away.

  It was only an hour till the tavern closed. He stayed busy, serving drinks and sharing jokes. Regulars brought their own glasses up to the bar and put chairs on top of tables before they left. Ben took his time closing out, sipping coffee and counting money while the soup heated in the kitchen. Even when it wasn’t fresh anymore, Dylan’s coffee was delicious. It was just like Kate’s—they had experimented together until they found the perfect grind and exact quantities.