Was he acting kind of crazy? Probably. Did he really care? Not really.
He could imagine Dorie’s face when he asked her whether Van was still here. She’d be smug as all get-out. She’d tried to get him to go to Manhattan for years until she’d finally given up.
But no way was he going to follow some girl years later like a lovesick hound. Of course Van wasn’t some girl; she was Van.
He stopped at the door. Below him, Whisper Beach lay empty. Not one solitary soul walking or lying out or anything. They should call it Ghost Beach instead of Whisper Beach.
He could hear the banging of pots and pans, someone giving orders. He huffed out a breath and opened the wooden screen door.
The kitchen was a warren of activity; workers were carrying stacks of dishes; pans and boxes were being dragged out of the storage area, and the dishwasher was going full blast. Dorie stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips watching the activity.
But the voice Joe heard giving orders belonged to Van.
And he smiled.
She was standing on a stool, barefoot, wearing a soft, white see-through thing over a very tiny bikini.
She looked good.
Dorie noticed him and came to stand by him.
“She’s still here,” he said.
“Well, obviously. Is that why you’re here?”
Joe thought about making up some story, but what was the point? “Yeah. I wanted to talk to her for real before she took off again.”
“Good, but do not interrupt. She walked in off the beach, suggested several ways to improve the kitchen’s efficiency, and is in the process of doing it. The woman’s amazing. They should make a reality show of what she does.”
“They should.” Joe had read her website, and the articles in the magazines, but it wasn’t until now, watching her in action, that he began to understand. And though he might not have the right, he was proud of her.
She’d always liked things to run smoothly, because her home life was always in chaos. So she’d taken that need and made a career to fit. Just like her to do something like that.
“If I were you,” Dorie said, breaking into his thoughts. “I would wipe that goofy grin off my face before she thinks you’re having randy thoughts about her.”
“Was I smiling?”
“Yup.”
“I just wanted to talk to her. See how she’s doing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, that’s a start,” Van said, totally unaware of Joe and Dorie watching her. “See how much shelf space you freed up by that one change?”
She was thin and fit and supple, things Joe had been too gobsmacked to have noticed yesterday. But he noticed them now, and he prayed she would turn around as ardently as he hoped she wouldn’t.
“Cubby, come give me a hand down.” Van reached out her hand, but Cubby, instead of taking it, lifted her by the waist and set her on her feet. She laughed. “Thanks.” The smile they exchanged made Joe hurt inside.
She sounded so happy. Content. Satisfied.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
Van turned. “Dorie, what do you think about moving the—”
“Too late now.”
Van had just sort of stopped. She didn’t move forward or back or say anything.
“She doesn’t want to see me,” Joe said and started to back away.
“She doesn’t know what she wants.” Dorie clamped bony fingers around his wrist. “Don’t make me embarrass you.”
Before he knew what she was doing, Dorie dragged him over to Van. “You two talk. Van, you owe him at least that.”
And suddenly she was gone, and he was left looking at Van. She didn’t move at first and he drank her in. The dark hair she used to wear long was now cut short, severe. Her dark eyes were wary. Of him? Or because she thought he would cause a scene?
He was aware of Dorie quietly herding the others into the dining room.
“I . . .” he began, “. . . was too surprised to really say hello yesterday. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t interested in hearing how you are.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“I do want to hear about what you’ve been up to. What you’re doing now. I want . . .” To find out why you left and why I can still feel like this after twelve years. “Would you like to go for coffee or something?”
“Now?” She looked down as if she suddenly became aware of what she was wearing.
He had been very aware of it since he’d first stepped into the kitchen.
“I’m wearing a swimsuit.”
He smiled. “We’re at the beach.”
She hesitated, like she was trying to decide.
“Just talk, catching up like frie— people who used to know each other do.”
She looked around the room. It had cleared out completely. “I guess I have a few minutes.”
She walked past him to the door. He could feel her bracing herself. Preparing herself. He’d seen her do it in the past. When a customer complained. When they’d stayed out late and he’d dropped her off at a dark house. He didn’t want her to feel that she had to protect herself from him.
She seemed distant. Almost untouchable. Could this possibly be the Van he had known and loved?
Chapter 10
SHE WAITED FOR HIM AT THE PIER RAILING, THE BACKSIDE of the restaurant with the garbage cans and the delivery crates. And he thought how she deserved to be surrounded by something nice, someplace beautiful. The boardwalk was hardly that place.
“Why is it empty?” she asked, looking out over Whisper Beach.
He came to stand beside her. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s too isolated for the tourists. They prefer the big beach, where all the action is maybe. And the locals . . . most of them don’t have time to hang out at the beach like they used to.”
“That’s sad. It was always such a special place.”
He wanted to ask if that was why she had come here the night of Clay’s funeral. To see the beach, maybe to remember.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t go down.”
“I— Sure.”
Impulsively, he ducked under the rail and jumped to the sand. Reached back to help her down, slid his hands around her waist as Cubby had done. But when he lifted her down, she stayed rigid in his arms. Not the laughing girl who had flirted with Cubby.
They walked across the beach to the retaining wall that kept the river from washing the sand away and stood side by side looking at the water rushing backward up the river. The tide was coming in.
What were they doing standing here? It did more to separate them than a table at a crowded café.
“Van?”
She turned toward him, steeling herself, he thought. For what? Did she think he was going to heap recriminations on her head, a decade plus later?
“I’m glad things turned out well for you.”
She half smiled. “Thanks. I’ve done okay.”
Another silence.
“Dorie said you sold the farm.”
“Yeah. Dad did. We just couldn’t compete with the big guys. I wanted to go organic, but they were just tired out.”
“I’m sorry. How are they?”
“My grandmother died a couple of years ago. But everyone else is okay. Granddad moved in with my parents. Maddy got married, nice guy she met in college. They live in Ohio.”
“Wow, do you ever see her?”
“They came last Christmas. She and Mom talk on the phone a lot. Skype.” He laughed. “The modern family.”
That half smile again. Maybe he shouldn’t mention families. He’d thought—they’d all thought—that she’d be joining theirs. Instead she left without a word.
He wanted to ask her why. Tell her there was nothing between him and Dana. Ever. But it seemed so silly now. And maybe it hadn’t even been about that. Maybe she left because she didn’t want to get stuck with him.
He heard her sigh, looked at her. She was smiling
. “I don’t think I should ask what you’re thinking.”
Here was his chance. Just blurt it out and get it out in the open, then maybe they could start again. Start again? Was he nuts? She was leaving. He didn’t even want to start again.
WHY AM I even here? Van wondered. Why was he? And could things be more awkward? Should she mention the past? Get it out of the way? Tell him it was all cool and not to give it another thought.
Maybe he wasn’t even thinking about the past. And it wasn’t cool. Just standing next to him made all her old anger rise up again. Not at him. But at the way life was then. They had nothing in common now, so she should be happy that she hadn’t found herself stuck on a failing dairy farm.
These days the mere idea of her as a farmer’s wife brought a smile to her lips. But she liked him, standing there looking down at the river like it could answer the questions he obviously wasn’t asking. He was a good guy. And she was glad of that. Because it would have been really bad if she’d run away because of someone who turned out to be a jackass.
“So how long are you staying?” He didn’t look at her, just kept staring at the water.
“I’m not sure. A few more days at least. Gigi is a little lost. And I have some legal stuff to take care of.”
He looked at her now.
“I still own the house, but it’s stupid for me to keep paying taxes on it. I might as well put it on the market. Listen, I’d better get back. It’s really good to see you, but I’ve torn Dorie’s kitchen apart, and I want to make sure they put it back the way I want them to.” She laughed softly. “It’s what I do for a living. Organize people’s living spaces and their lives. Ironic, isn’t it?”
He moved, like he might take her in his arms and comfort her and tell her he would take care of her always like he once had. And for the briefest instant she wanted him to. But she wouldn’t—couldn’t—go down that road again. Besides, she was probably misreading him.
She wanted them to part on good terms. It shouldn’t matter. Maybe ultimately it didn’t matter, but still . . . it mattered. “Want to walk me back?”
This time she made sure they took the stairs. She’d try not to think about his hands around her waist. The strength of him; no, it wasn’t that. It was the unexpected fact that for that brief moment, she’d felt safe. And that was so not the strong self-reliant woman she’d become. It rattled her, and she’d had to steel herself not to react.
She’d stopped being mad at him long before she’d left town. Before she knew she was pregnant with a drunken frat boy’s baby. Her stomach burned at her stupidity. How one moment of irresponsibility had changed her life forever.
She didn’t want him to know that. Just that she hadn’t left because of something he’d done. Nothing could be further from the truth.
It had been something that she’d done.
They were back at the kitchen door.
“It was good to see you,” she said, her throat burning.
“You, too.”
Impulsively, she put her hand on his arm. “I know it was a long time ago. But I didn’t leave because of anything you did.”
“Then why?”
“I just had to. And it’s worked out well for me. And you, too.”
He looked like he might try to argue, and she couldn’t hold on to her emotions for that long.
“I’ve really got to go. See ya.”
“Yeah . . . see ya.”
She grabbed for the door and went inside.
She walked straight through the kitchen and out to the dining room.
Dorie was awaiting with her hands on her hips. “Back so soon?”
Van could see Joe pass by the restaurant windows, cross the street, get into his truck.
Van nodded, it was the best she could do.
JOE SAT IN his truck outside of Mike’s. He didn’t much feel like company, but he sure didn’t want to be stuck with himself. He’d even settle for Owen, but he’d be long gone by now.
He couldn’t believe they’d parted with “See ya.” Both of them. “See ya.”
See ya? They wouldn’t be seeing each other; she was selling her house, not that she would ever want to live there. But at least that was one tie to Whisper Beach. When that was gone, she wouldn’t even have to come back for legal reasons.
Maybe she’d come for another funeral? Whose? His?
He looked around the parking lot. The last people he wanted to see today were Dana and Bud.
It looked safe.
He got out of the truck and went inside.
“Playing hooky today?” Mike asked.
“Just came in for lunch. Too hot to cook at my place.”
“Burger?”
“Sure, why not?”
“We do make other things.”
“A burger’s fine, and put a salad on the side.”
“You got it.” Mike went off to the kitchen.
As soon as he left, Joe began to wish he hadn’t come in. He was too restless to sit over lunch. But he’d have to get over it. Might as well start now.
Mike came back. “You want a beer?”
“Iced tea.”
Mike filled a glass with ice and then poured tea into it. Placed it on the counter.
“So did you see Van while she was here?”
Joe nodded. When did his business become everybody’s business? Stupid question. It was the way of things in Whisper Beach.
“Uh-oh, here comes trouble.”
Joe didn’t even have to look around to know who had just come in.
He sighed. “Make that burger to go, Mike.”
Mike nodded and headed for the kitchen.
Dana sidled up to Joe and deposited herself on the stool next to him.
“Saw your truck outside.”
Next time he would walk. “What are you up to today?”
“I don’t know. Bud’s working a double shift. Guess I’ll just hang here for a while. Wait for Bud to get home. You working?”
“Yeah, just stopped by to pick up some takeout.”
“Did you get to see Van before she left?”
None of your business. “Yeah, I just saw her a little while ago.”
“What?” Dana spun around to looked at him. “Bud said she left already.”
“Well, she’s still here. Why? Were you were going to call her for a lunch date?”
“Funny. No, but I’d like to give her a piece of my mind.”
“Oh, give it a rest, Dana. She never did anything to you. And everybody’s gotten about as much mileage as they can from the brief reappearance of Vanessa Moran.”
“Don’t we sound grumpy.”
“Just not in the mood.”
“So the son of a bitch lied to me.”
“Dana, don’t start.”
“That—”
“Leave it.”
“I wonder how long she’s staying.”
“Dana, do not think about making trouble.”
“Moi?”
“You,” Mike said, putting a Styrofoam carton on the bar. “Go get a hobby or something. Take up crocheting. Or wait—news flash—get a job and leave Joe here alone.”
Dana pulled a long face, pouty lipped. “I’m not bothering him. Am I, Joe?”
“Actually, Dana, yeah. I’ve got to go.”
He slipped off the stool away from Dana. Reached in his pocket for his wallet.
“I’ll put it on your tab,” Mike said. And lifted his chin toward the door.
“Maybe I’ll go see her.”
Joe stopped. “Leave it alone, Dana.”
“I’m sick and tired of everybody blaming me for her going away. I didn’t do anything,”
Mike groaned. “Grow up, Dana. Nobody even thinks about it anymore.”
“Maybe not before, but trust me, as soon as she walked into that party room, all dolled up and looking like a million bucks, speculation started and they all looked at me.”
She seemed close to tears.
“You’re delusional
,” Mike said.
“I gotta go.” Joe started for the door.
“Are you two getting back together?”
Joe sighed. “Dana, what reality are you living in? It’s not high school anymore.”
“Don’t I know it. I’ll have a dirty martini, Mike.”
“Dana, go on home; you don’t want to start drinking at lunchtime.”
“You want to take me home, Joe?”
“No, Dana. I want you to get out of this god-awful funk you’re in. Go get yourself a job and your own apartment. Or you gotta get better makeup. ’Cause it’s not covering the bruises anymore.”
Her hand went to her eye.
“Better still, go stay with a friend. You’ve got to get away from this relationship.”
“If I had a friend I would.”
“Oh stop, you have friends.”
She smiled. “You?”
“Not me. Sorry.” He went out the door and back to the marina. Owen was gone, and he’d done a pretty good job on the boat. Joe stayed long enough to put up the Closed sign and dump his burger in the trash bin.
He’d had enough of hamburgers, Whisper Beach, and its crazy inhabitants. He got back in the truck and drove straight to the highway and home.
DORIE SHOOED VAN out of the kitchen an hour later. “You’re on vacation.”
“But I’m just getting started.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to get your ideas in place if you want. Now, go to the beach and hang out with your friends.”
“I don’t think it’s in my constitution to do nothing,” Van said.
“Then it’s a good thing you decided to stay here instead of going to that fancy hotel. You’d be on your way back to Manhattan by now.”
“Would I?”
“Oh, hell, I don’t know. But I want you here. I know it sounds selfish. But I wasn’t just trying to make you feel guilty saying I was lonely. I’ve missed you girls. These days, nobody wants to work. Just party. You all worked hard and partied hard, but pretty much didn’t confuse the two.
“These new kids. Christ. They’re just bodies marking time until they can get off and go out. They all want to make a fortune without doing anything. Then they wonder why they don’t get big tips.”
Van smiled. “Bet they still show up at your house.”
Whisper Beach Page 12