“That’s great about the shop but I was talking about how you interacted with that woman. She was really appreciative.”
“It’s fun helping people look and feel amazing on one of the most important days of their lives.”
“I’m sure that’s not easy, pleasing everyone.”
Meg leaned over and unwrapped the Snickers, broke it in half, and offered the other half to him. He took it with a nod of thanks and immediately bit off a large chunk. “No, especially when everyone has a certain picture in their head of how they want to look on their wedding day.”
All he knew was how she looked now. Hot. She wore a narrow skirt and a flowing blouse, and she’d kicked off her shoes when she’d gotten up to turn the sign on the door to Closed and bolt the lock. “Guys aren’t like that,” he said. “They don’t spend a lot of time thinking about their wedding days.”
“Don’t you ever envision yourself getting married?”
“I’m not cut out for marriage.” Ne-ver. With a capital N.
“How do you know that?”
He shrugged. “Too much trouble.”
“I’m the one with divorced parents, with the father who’s moved to Brazil with his new wife and kids, and you’re the one with the big happy family. I’m surprised you feel that way.”
“I love my family. Love my little nieces and nephews. But all my energy’s channeled into my career right now.” Truth was, he’d lost his parents, his best friend, and more recently, a brother. He never wanted to risk putting his heart on the line for another loss, which would surely kill him. It was better to channel his energy into being the best doctor he could be.
Meg perused a paper on the desk in front of her. “Would you mind reaching into my top left drawer and handing me my stapler?” she asked.
Ben took another bite of chocolate, opened the drawer, and handed her the stapler. But something else caught his eye. A large red sewing tomato stuck full of pins, but the pins were arranged in a very unusual way. He couldn’t resist pulling it out.
Meg stopped stapling, stood up, and tried to snatch it away from him. “Hey, put that back.”
He held it just out of her reach. “Why do you own a sewing tomato with the word ‘FEAR’ on it? Stuck full of pins around a—what is this?” He examined the thick black line drawn in marker down one of the seams, between the “FE” and the “AR.”
She followed him and tried to grab it back. “It’s—private.”
“Oh, come on.” His gaze held hers, which he read as part embarrassment, part reluctance. “You tell me your secrets, I’ll tell you mine.” He waggled his eyebrows to bring home the point.
“It’s not a secret. Just a personal story. When Alex and I first took over the business from my Grandma Gloria, she knew how frightened I was. I was fresh out of college, it took a ton of money, and I wasn’t sure if staying here in Mirror Lake was the right thing. So one day she gave me her sewing tomato, but she put a little twist on it.”
“And what was that?”
“Read the ribbon.”
Ben picked up a thin ribbon attached to a tiny stem. “POKE FEAR IN THE ARSE.” He laughed. “I always did like that woman.”
“So when I feel especially worried about something, I try to remember that.”
“It’s your voodoo tomato.” He tossed it lightly into the air.
“Exactly. So what’s your story?”
“My Grandpa Rushford gave me a kid’s kaleidoscope before I left for college.”
“Interesting gift,” she said, waiting until the tomato was airborne, grabbing it, and shutting it back in the drawer.
“I was having a tough time after my parents died.” And after her brother died, but he didn’t mention that. “He wanted me to keep moving forward, keep looking to the future. He said to look in it and each day would be exciting and different.”
“That’s actually a great gift.”
“My grandfather really understood me. My grandmother got cancer around the time my parents died, so we went to live with Effie instead of with them. But he kept an eye on all of us. Even loaned me five hundred dollars to buy my Mustang.”
“You mean when you had it towed out of that farmer’s field?”
He couldn’t help smiling at the memories. “It had been in a flood and every single part needed to be rehauled.”
“And now it’s a beauty.”
Their gazes caught across the desk. “Sure is,” he said with a little smile, but he wasn’t talking about the car. “Their house on Forest Glen is about to be torn down.”
“Over by the funeral home?”
Ben nodded. “It’s been rezoned for business and for the past fifteen years or so, there’ve been about three or four local companies in there.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Meg said.
“My grandfather’s office was built into a wing of the house and I want to see it one last time.”
“Aren’t you afraid it’ll be . . . different?”
“Yeah. But part of me still wants to go.”
“Sometimes you have to revisit the past to put it to rest,” she said pointedly.
“Yet sometimes it’s better to leave well enough alone.”
“Touché. So how’ll you decide what to do?”
“I’m going to try and look at it from the perspective of what my grandfather would want me to do. I’m not sure yet what I’ll decide. But maybe seeing it one last time would be a good bridge as I move forward into my own career.”
Meg snatched up the last bite of candy, popped it into her mouth, and tossed the wrapper into the trash. “Speaking of moving forward, I’ve got to get going,” she said.
“Now that we’ve told each other our secrets, I feel so close to you,” Ben said with a wink. “You’re sure you won’t consider being my date for next weekend?”
As she shook her head, her dark silky hair fell over her shoulders. He could imagine its smooth waterfall texture between his fingers. “Too complicated.”
“No, not complicated. Easy. I’m easy. You’d have fun.”
“Is everything always about fun with you?”
“In a nutshell, yes. I don’t do relationships.”
“Maybe you should say that again, this time with more conviction.” She laughed. “You’re twenty-eight years old. You’ve never tried one?”
“Not my thing. But at least I’m up-front and honest about it.”
She snorted. “You know, Ben, that’s the typical playboy excuse. You say, ‘I don’t do relationships,’ and because you’re young and single, I bet that gets everyone off your case, doesn’t it?”
“I am in the prime of my life.” He flashed a grin at her. Better for her to think he was on the asshole side of the scale than to know the real reason he would never risk starting a relationship with her.
“Well, good luck with that, Mr. Prime. Nice chatting with you, but I’m still not coming to camp.” He felt a little surprised. It was unusual for him to get rejected, and he thought for sure she’d cave. He’d said it sarcastically, but he wasn’t really kidding when he said he’d felt close to her. He’d never told anyone about that kaleidoscope for fear they’d laugh. “Lock the door on your way out, okay?” she said, flicking off the lights, closing the door, and leaving him alone in the dimly lit room.
CHAPTER 8
Meg rang Alex’s doorbell three times before her husband Tom answered the door. It was the last Tuesday evening of the month, time for book club, and Meg was ready to get her mind off the recent turmoil Ben was causing and just kick back with her friends. “Come in,” Tom said. The big burly guy was out of breath, his Mirror Lake P.D. T-shirt sopping wet, and he held a naked two-year-old under one arm.
“Hey, Jacob,” Meg said, ruffling the toddler’s wet hair. He held a toy airplane in one hand and was whizzing it around while making puttering noises. She bent down to his eye level and smiled. “Who had the bath, Jacob, you or your daddy?”
The toddler grinned and ran his air
plane up her arm.
“I’d love to chat but I’ve got two more kids waiting for baths upstairs,” Tom said.
Over his shoulders, Meg surveyed the usually picked-up house. Chinese take-out cartons littered the table, along with plates and primary-colored sippy cups. Toys lay scattered along the carpet.
“I can help you get them ready for bed,” she offered as Tom headed back up the staircase.
He turned around, a pang of concern furrowing his brow. “I’m all right. Alex needs you more.”
“That sounds ominous.”
Tom set Jacob down at the top of the stairs and watched him streak back into the bathroom, letting out a bevy of giggles. “She’s going stir-crazy lying around all day.”
“I heard that,” Alex said from the family room couch. Their friend Olivia was there, picking up toys and throwing them into a straw basket in the corner.
“What happened in here? Did you fire Rosa?” Meg asked, giving Alex a peck on the cheek and placing a paper bag full of romance novels from the library book sale at her side.
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Alex said “Her sister just had a baby and she took two weeks off to help. She arranged to have a friend of hers come starting tomorrow. I’m sorry for the mess.”
“Don’t worry about it. That’s why we came early to clean up before book club.” Meg sat next to her on the couch and asked, “How are our babies doing?”
“They are fine but their mother is bored to tears, and I’m dying for adult company,” Alex rubbed her large belly. “Thanks for the books, by the way. Now tell me what’s been happening with Ben since the dinner.”
“Oh, not much,” Meg hedged. “I’d rather talk about you.” Any mention of Ben was bound to wield a bunch of head shaking and piteous looks, and she didn’t want to set herself up for either.
“Honey, I can’t drink or have sex,” Alex said. “So spill.”
Meg sighed. Better to get it over with because they would just find out anyway. Small town, no secrets. “Ben asked me to be his pretend date again this weekend. At Camp Mohican. For kids with diabetes.”
Olivia handed Alex a glass of water and pretended to choke. “Wow, a guy who only asks for pretend dates. Sounds like a winner to me.”
“Can’t you be a little more charitable? He is your brother-in-law,” Meg said.
“And I love him,” Olivia said. “He’s a smart man. Except where women are concerned.”
“Excuse me,” Alex said to Meg. “I thought you resolved to end this after the one time. You went out with the new vet last week and you said it was fun. I thought the plan was to kick the Ben habit for good.”
At the sound of a lawn mower, all three women looked out the window. Ben Rushford was pushing one through the grass. With his shirt off.
Meg swallowed at the sight of healthy, bare-chested male striding though the big yard. Especially that particular male. “I told him no.”
“Wait. I missed something. Why’d you do that?” Olivia asked.
Alex didn’t hesitate to answer. “Because she’s being wise. Ben’s a heartbreaker.”
Olivia shook her head in protest. “Everyone told me that about Brad, too, and I took a chance. Maybe Meg should, too.”
“She needs to move on,” Alex said firmly. “This crush has been going on for years.”
“What better way to move on than to let herself explore the possibilities?” Olivia asked.
“She’s not a fling-haver,” Alex said. “And Ben is. I see disaster on the horizon.”
Meg sat up straighter on the couch and finally got a word in. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here. Even if I wanted to go to the camp, I can’t. My mom needs taking care of, plus I have to be at the shop on Saturday. It’s our busiest day and it’s not fair to leave Gran and Samantha there by themselves.”
“If you have the opportunity to spend time with Ben, you should,” Olivia said. “Then you’ll know for sure whether you actually like him or if you’ve just built him up to be larger than life. Maybe your sister could help your mom for a day or two. And I can pitch in at the shop this Saturday.”
“Thanks,” Meg said, “but it’s crazy enough with Alex gone. I should be there to take care of stuff.” She debated mentioning the most important reason. “And, to be honest, there’s something else.”
“What is it?” Olivia and Alex asked together.
“My mother still harbors ill feelings about Ben, even after all these years. She’d be upset if she knew I was going somewhere with him. Especially overnight.” Even though she was an adult who made her own decisions regardless of whom they pleased or didn’t please. It was just that this was . . . Ben. And Ben was a hot-button topic in her family, to be avoided at all costs.
Except maybe it was time to change that.
Alex grabbed Meg’s hand. “Oh, honey. She still blames him after all this time? He was just a kid.”
Meg shrugged. “I suppose she feels like he was a bad influence. He used to get beer, and he and Patrick and their friends used to go drink it at the quarry all the time.”
“But Ben didn’t go that night,” Olivia said. “Patrick went by himself and Ben found him later.”
“She’s never bought that story,” Meg said. “She thinks Ben said that to get himself off the hook.” But Meg knew in her heart—not because she had objective evidence—that Ben didn’t go out with her brother that night. She’d never doubted him. No matter what her mother and sister chose to believe.
“Ben may come across as not having a care in the world, but it’s an act,” Olivia said. “Brad’s told me he went through a lot after your brother’s death. Pulling him out of the water was traumatizing.”
Meg flinched a little. Olivia saw and put an arm around her. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry to bring this up.”
“I’m all right,” Meg said. “It’s just that when I think of what Ben must have gone through that night—” She shook off the memory. “At least you both can talk about it. My family pretends it never happened.”
“I just thought of something a little scary.” Alex sat up on the couch. “Do you think Ben’s stayed away from you all this time because of what happened to Patrick?”
Meg shook her head, even as a traitorous flush exposed the mayhem beneath. Ben didn’t need reasons to stay away from her. It was obvious she wasn’t his kind of woman, regardless of what had happened in the past. “That’s—crazy.” The words sounded raspy and weak. Thinking of her brother made her emotional, and she’d learned over the years to hold the feeling in until it gradually dissipated. There was really no one she could talk to about him, share fond memories, or her pain. Her family had sealed off the topic for discussion long ago. Even now, her mother could barely tolerate hearing his name. In some ways it was as if he’d never existed.
“Not so crazy,” Olivia said.
“You’ve got to talk to Ben,” Alex said slowly.
Panic and horror made Meg’s voice raise an octave. “Impossible. How can you ever talk about something like that?” Until last week, she’d barely been able to carry on a conversation with him. The circumstances of their disastrous dinner had changed that, but this was a whole other level of openness she couldn’t even fathom.
“When you love someone you can,” Olivia said. “Love makes it possible.”
Alex patted Meg’s hand. “It might seem impossible. But it just might be necessary. For both of you.”
“Especially for him,” Olivia said. She glanced at her watch. “Sorry to tell you this, ladies, but we have five minutes to do something else that’s necessary.”
“What would that be?” Alex asked.
“Help you change,” Olivia said. “You are not wearing those awful sweats to book club.”
“Nothing fits me. Everything looks terrible.”
“Get me a pretty blouse,” Olivia commanded Meg, who rose and headed to the back bedroom. “And something with a forgiving waistband.”
As Meg dug through Alex’s closet, she tried t
o digest their conversation. What ifs rankled her. What if all this time, the remorse Ben might feel over her brother’s death had kept him away? How could such a thing ever be made right? There was no bringing back the past.
Only dealing with it.
Meg found a striped pink and white tailored blouse. On closer inspection, it was one of Tom’s shirts, but it might be just the thing. “I found something!” she called out to Alex. “This is going to make you feel like a new woman.”
Confrontation and talking honestly was work for people with far more courage than Meg could muster in three lifetimes. She could tell by the way her gut seized up and her hands went cold with terror just by thinking about it that her nervous system wholeheartedly agreed.
Yet unanswered questions swirled around her head, long ago brushed into the corners of her mind and covered with cobwebs. Letting them out now would only lead to disaster. If only she could clear up the past as easily as they could freshen Alex’s sour mood with a brand new shirt. She’d vowed to be braver and take more risks, but this seemed out of her league. Because sometimes what you wanted the most was the one thing you were most afraid to get.
“Goodness,” Grandma Gloria said, walking into Alex’s house holding a covered cake pan in one hand and fanning herself with the other. “Benjamin Rushford is out there with no shirt on. Reminds me of a photo of Prince Harry a tabloid ran a while back. But he was in Vegas, not cutting the grass.”
“I don’t think Harry ever has to cut the grass at Buckingham Palace,” Ted Lawrence, the owner of Mona’s Bakery said as he followed Gran in.
Meg greeted Ted and Gran and her grandmother’s best friend, Effie, the Rushford siblings’ maternal grandmother. Meg tried not to look out the door but she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at Ben’s tanned body and amazing pecs that were perfect—not too pumped up, but definitely not the muscles of a bookish man who was on call all the time and never worked out. If only shutting the door could shut him out of her thoughts.
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