by Irene Hannon
“Yes.” He focused on his clasped hands. “I, too, have been lonely.”
More than she, no doubt, given all he’d lost and his new life among strangers.
“If we’re in agreement, I’ll call BJ tonight and let her know we want to proceed. I believe Eric will draw up some paperwork for us to sign. Do you have any other questions for me?”
“No. I cannot think of any. I am too . . . my heart is too full.”
Pressure built behind her eyes, and she blinked it away. “It’s been a long day of cooking for me, and I know you put in a full day of physical labor. Shall we call it a night?”
He rose at once. “Yes. Of course.”
“I put together a package of leftovers for you to take home. You’ll find it in the refrigerator.”
“You do not have to—”
She held up a hand. “No protests. I’ll be eating the remains of our meal for a week as it is. There’s plenty for both of us.”
After a brief hesitation, he retreated to the kitchen.
While he was gone, she pushed herself to her feet and trundled over to the front door.
Once he joined her in the hall, he stopped beside the door, cradling the leftovers in his hands as if they were as fragile and precious as her Waterford Christmas tree ornaments. “May I speak from here?” He placed his hand on his heart.
She gripped her walker and dipped her head.
“When I came to this town, I did not think life would ever be happy again. I knew no one, and my soul was heavy with grief. That sadness has not gone away, but the kindness you and others have shown me has made it smaller. May God bless you for all you have done to help BJ with her program—and for sharing your home with me.”
She nodded, unwilling to trust her voice.
With a slight bow, he let himself out.
As the door closed behind him, Methuselah wandered over to rub against her leg.
She swallowed and slowly exhaled. “What do you think of all this, my friend?”
He purred and trotted over to his favorite rug, a new spring in his step—or was she imagining things?
Probably.
But as she returned to the kitchen to close up the house for the night, she wasn’t imagining the new spring in her step.
It was possible, of course, that once they were living under the same roof, one or both of them would decide the arrangement wasn’t working and end it after the trial period.
Yet deep inside, she couldn’t help hoping that tonight was the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.
22
Yes!
Fingers trembling, BJ pressed the off button on her cell and clutched it to her chest.
Eleanor and Luis were in!
Sparing Tracy and Michael’s in-progress house plans no more than a distracted glance, she left them behind and headed for the kitchen. If this news didn’t merit the rest of that fudge cake she’d saved when she’d met with Eleanor, nothing did.
After removing the treat from the freezer and nuking it to take the chill off, she poured herself a tall glass of milk, retrieved a fork, and sat down at the kitchen table to indulge.
Halfway through the rich confection, a niggle of guilt prodded her conscience as she eyed the phone on the table beside her. She owed Eric a call in response to the text and voicemail messages he’d left during the past twelve hours while he’d been MIA.
Where had he been all day, anyway?
Not that she wanted their paths to cross. After their exchange on the patio Sunday afternoon, it was much safer if their orbits didn’t intersect.
Warmth flooded her cheeks just thinking about how close she’d come to crossing a dangerous line that day . . . and inviting him to cross it.
Thank goodness an incoming call had interrupted the charged scene. Sharing hugs that might end up going far beyond friendly would put her heart at major risk.
However . . . ignoring his messages was rude. The man deserved an update on the Eleanor/Luis situation—especially since he’d volunteered to put together the necessary paperwork.
She finished her cake, picked up her cell, and tapped in his number.
Halfway through the first ring, he picked up.
“I was beginning to think we were never going to connect.” He sounded tired but happy to hear from her.
“I’m not the one who disappeared all day.”
“I . . . uh . . . had some things to do. And you were gone this morning. How did you fare with the plumbers?”
He didn’t intend to tell her where he’d been.
Fine. She could deal with that—even if it rankled for some reason.
“They’ll be at the house Friday morning. Early.”
A chuckle came over the line. “Dad said you’d get action.”
“I’ve dealt with plenty of contractors. I know most of their stall tactics—and how to circumvent them. But I didn’t call to talk about plumbing. I have good news.”
“Eleanor and Luis hit it off.”
“Yes. They’re ready to sign on the dotted line.”
“I’m glad I got a head start on the boilerplate agreement.”
No surprise that a go-getter like him would take the initiative and dive in.
“How close is it to being ready?”
“Very. I’ll make a few final tweaks tonight and email it over for your review. Let me know if you have any questions or comments. Once it’s finalized, all we’ll need to do is personalize it for their situation. I could meet with them tomorrow night, after Luis gets off work, if that fits with everyone’s schedule.”
“I’ll talk to both of them, but I can’t imagine either has a pressing commitment. Why don’t you plan on seven, and if anything changes, I can let you know tomorrow at the house.”
“I may not be around much, but you can text or call me.”
Another disappearing act.
What could he be up to?
“Sounds like you have a busy schedule.”
“Yeah. Um . . . another legal job came up.”
She had no reason to doubt that—but she had a feeling there was more to his absences than legal chores.
“Must be nice to have work fall into your lap.”
“I guess . . . if you’re in the market for work. That wasn’t the purpose of my visit. However, I’m learning to go with the flow. You’ll be there tomorrow night, right?”
“Yes. If the program gets the nod, future paperwork will be overseen by Helping Hands, but this is my baby for now.”
“That’s what I assumed. I’ll see you there.”
No offer to swing by and pick her up.
It’s safer this way, BJ.
True.
But that didn’t mitigate her twinge of disappointment.
“Okay. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She prepared to hang up.
“Wait. I have a question for you. After all your work on the sets for the musical, you’re going to one of the shows this weekend, aren’t you?”
“Yes—and I almost forgot to tell you. There’ll be a comp ticket at the door for you, usable for any of the performances.”
“Which night are you going?”
“Friday, unless I get hung up at your dad’s with the plumber.”
“Want to go together?”
Despite a surge of pulse-elevating adrenaline, she hesitated. The more time she spent in his company, the more difficult it would be to cope after he left. But he might show up Friday night anyway. It was silly not to sit together—and it would be a safe environment. What could happen in an auditorium full of people?
“Why don’t I meet you there? Whoever gets there first can save a seat.” That seemed like a reasonable compromise.
“I suppose that will work.” He didn’t sound happy about it, however. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast.”
“I doubt it. I need to stop in at Grace Christian and take some detailed measurements for the remodel job that’s next on the schedule. Breakfast will be over befor
e I arrive.”
A beat of silence passed.
“Are you avoiding me, BJ?”
He would ask a direct question like that.
“I told you. I have a meeting at Grace Christian.”
“I mean in general.”
Of course he did.
“I lead a busy life, Eric.”
He muttered some phrase she didn’t catch. “Look, I’m a lawyer, remember? Trained to spot evasive maneuvers. I thought we agreed to be honest with each other.”
She pressed a finger against one of the chocolate crumbs on her plate and popped it in her mouth—but it didn’t help sweeten what she needed to say.
“We did.” She took a deep breath and plunged in. “The truth is, I like you a lot. Too much, in view of the high probability that one day soon, you’re going to leave Hope Harbor—and me—behind. I don’t want another broken heart . . . and that would be a given if our relationship escalates.”
“Even if I leave, there might be a way to—”
“No.” She swallowed, clamped her fingers around the edge of the table, and said what she had to say. “I don’t want to fall for a man who puts career above everything else. I know what the partner track demands, and it doesn’t leave time or energy for much else. That’s not the kind of life—or relationship—I want.”
A sigh came over the line. “I figured that’s how you felt after our . . . on Sunday. There’s one thing you need to know, though. Your heart isn’t the only one in danger here.”
Nice to hear . . . even if it wasn’t likely to change the outcome.
“But your career is more important.”
“I didn’t say that. The truth is, I want it all.”
“That’s not how life plays out for most people. We have to make choices, let go of things that aren’t as important to get the things we want most.”
“Assuming you know what those are.”
“You’ll work it out, Eric—sooner or later.”
“I’d prefer sooner.”
“Patience is a virtue.”
“I haven’t mastered that one yet, but I’ve got diligence down pat—and I’m not bad at humility.” Although his teasing tone seemed forced, it lightened up the conversation.
Better. She didn’t want to end this exchange on a heavy note.
“Speaking of diligence . . . I’ll let you get to those boilerplate tweaks you mentioned.”
“Check for the document in about an hour. See you tomorrow night—and sleep well.”
“You too.”
But as she ended the call and cleared the table, she had a feeling that during the long night to come, restful slumber was going to prove as capricious—and elusive—as true love.
BJ looked exhausted.
As the lights went up for the intermission of Oklahoma, Eric examined her profile. Since their meeting at Eleanor’s on Wednesday night to finalize all the paperwork, faint shadows had appeared beneath her lower lashes, and the fine creases at the corners of her eyes had deepened.
If he hadn’t been spending every spare moment at Charley’s studio, he’d have noticed her fatigue sooner.
“So what held you up?” He angled toward her. All she’d offered as she’d slid into her seat while the lights dimmed for the overture was a murmured “Sorry I’m late.”
She shifted her attention from the program to him. “I had an errand after work that ran long.”
“You feeling okay?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You look like you’ve been working too hard—or are toying with a relapse of whatever bug you had.”
“No relapse.” She closed the program. “It’s been busy, though. I spent last night after work at Eleanor’s, cleaning the upstairs so Luis won’t have to contend with layers of dust before he can go to bed tomorrow night.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“I didn’t mind.” She shrugged off the frown he aimed at her. “And I don’t have any plans to repeat it. They’ll be on their own once he moves in. I just want this to get off on the right foot.”
“You take on too much.”
“I could have tapped you to help me clean the bathroom, I guess. I bet you’d have loved that.” She shot him a teasing grin.
“If you’d asked, I might have volunteered.”
“I haven’t seen you to ask.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“So you’ve been saying.”
She waited, giving him a chance to expound . . . but he wasn’t ready to admit he’d been doing some serious painting. Fortunately, several members of the audience interrupted their exchange to compliment him on the backdrop.
He stood to greet them, and as he chatted, BJ rose and wandered off.
His spirits nose-dived.
Could she be leaving? Would she text him in a few minutes to say she was tired and had decided to go home?
Before he could call out to her, she disappeared into the milling throng.
Short of being rude, he couldn’t ignore the cluster of people around him . . . but as the group thinned at last, she reappeared juggling two disposable cups and a napkin-wrapped packet.
Relief flooded through him—and when another guy stepped up, he prepared to dispense with him quickly. At this rate, the lights would go down again and he’d have no chance to talk to BJ.
“Steve Davis. Nice job on the backdrop.” The man extended his hand, and Eric returned his firm clasp.
“Thanks.” He sent a pointed glance toward BJ, who was edging down the row past a brigade of knees toward their seats. If the guy had any people skills, he’d get the hint.
Steve followed his line of sight. “I won’t keep you—but I do have a favor to ask. I’m on the city council, and I heard through the grapevine that you’ve temporarily hung out a shingle. We’ve got some urgent zoning proposals that need a legal review, and we’d appreciate your input. We used to have Rick Jenson on retainer for this kind of work, but after he retired we never got around to lining up a new contact.”
It was raining work in this town.
At this rate, he wasn’t going to have a chance to finish his painting before he left.
“I understand you’re here on vacation, so if it’s an imposition . . .”
“I’ll tell you what.” No reason to leave ill will behind, and it sounded like the council was in a bind. “Why don’t I swing by city hall and see what you have? If it’s not too involved, I’m sure I can fit it in.”
“That would be great. And thanks again for pitching in behind the scenes here.” Steve waved toward the stage in the packed auditorium. “You have real talent.”
While the man returned to his seat, BJ sank back into hers, holding up a cup. “Lemonade was the only beverage at the concession stand.”
“Perfect.” He sat too and sipped the tangy drink.
“Take your pick.” She opened the napkin to display several cookies.
“You choose first.”
“Not necessary. I like them all.”
He selected an oatmeal raisin. “What’s on your agenda for tomorrow?”
“I told Luis I’d haul his stuff over to Eleanor’s.” She set the bundle in her lap and picked up a chocolate chip cookie.
“He’s not wasting any time, is he?”
“Would you, if you lived in that dump?”
“True. You need some help?”
“I don’t think so. He said he only had a few boxes. Mostly clothes.” She broke off a piece of cookie, her expression troubled. “It’s sad how little he has to show for his life, considering all he’s done. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to face every new day knowing the people and work you love are gone forever. How does a person cope with that kind of loss?”
Sometimes by taking desperate measures—or trying to.
But that secret would remain between Luis and him.
“Having a decent place to live might lift his spirits.”
“I hope so. Let’s pray the four-week trial pe
riod works out well for both of them.”
The lights blinked, signaling the end of the too-short intermission.
“You need to help me finish these.” She handed him another cookie.
“I never turn down cookies.” He gave her a smile.
She returned it . . . but the curve of her lips was perfunctory rather than sincere.
Understandable.
She’d warned him she didn’t want to get involved. Had been honest about her feelings—and her fears. Keeping him at arm’s length was the prudent course.
Too bad he couldn’t reach for her hand, twine his fingers with hers, and offer her the assurance she needed to feel comfortable about moving forward.
Instead, as the lights went out and the orchestra launched into the entr’acte, he kept his hands occupied with lemonade and cookies.
Because despite the doubts that had begun to surface with alarming regularity, he wasn’t yet ready to admit that maybe . . . just maybe . . . it might be time to change the course he’d set on the day he’d applied to law school fourteen long years ago.
She needed a taco.
She also needed a shower.
BJ braked at the intersection in downtown Hope Harbor. Straight would take her home; a left would take her to the wharf.
Her stomach growled.
Decision made.
She flipped on her blinker and hung a left.
Five minutes later, after finding a parking spot near Charley’s despite the Saturday tourist rush, she joined the queue at his stand. Inching toward the window, she inhaled the aroma of sizzling fish and savory spices.
“Morning . . . or should I say afternoon?” Charley smiled as she approached the window. No matter the crowd, he never appeared to be in a rush. Yet for some odd reason, the line always advanced at a reasonable pace.
“It’s definitely afternoon—and I’m hungry.”
“One order coming up . . . or is someone else joining you?”
“Nope. I’m having a solo lunch.” By choice. Eleanor had invited her to stay and eat after all of Luis’s boxes had been hauled in, but it was better to let the two of them settle in without a third party hanging around.