by Natasha Boyd
“Gwen drove me here,” Beau offered as a reason for my presence .
“Right,” I said, a sharp pinching sensation in my chest. “And now I’ve done that .”
“No wait. Stay, please.” He cleared his throat and reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by the hawk eyes of Isabel. “I need you,” Beau told me. “It won’t be long, right?” He looked to his father .
Robert shook his head. “Nope. We were just communing with Father Peter and then I was going to take Mother home. It’s been a long day. You’re staying with us in town tonight, I presume, Beau .”
“Actually,” I said, years of practice at helping Beau avoid his family obligations tripping off my tongue. “Beau was planning to stay with me because we were going down to the marina to help my dad tomorrow morning .”
Beau glanced at me as I made things up on the fly. But then I realized if he came to the boat shop I’d have to break his heart all over again and tell him about my father closing the business .
“But, of course,” I said to Beau, “With this new development, you don’t have to — ”
“No, I want to,” he said. “I told Rhys I’d help him, and I will for a few hours.” He turned to his grandmother. “Then I can come over before lunch and help with the arrangements .”
She nodded, still seemingly shell-shocked and unable to put up her usual resistance to all plans that weren’t directed by her .
“And I’ll be with you.” Suzy patted her grandmother’s hand .
“That’ll be fine,” said Isabel. “How is your father, Gwendolyn?” she asked me, shocking everyone in the room .
“F—fine. Thank you for asking.” I glanced nervously at Beau. No one said anything so I carried on. “Actually, he’s dealing with a cough that won’t go away after a horrid cold. But he doesn’t let that stop him,” I babbled and stretched my lips to a smile .
“See that it isn’t pneumonia. He should get an X-ray. Tomorrow if possible. There’s a Doc-in-the-box just over in West Ashley who should be able to see him on a Saturday,” Isabel Montgomery said. “And send him my regards, will you ?”
I looked to Beau, Suzy, and Robert and even Father Peter to see them mirror what my eyebrows were doing. Raised up in disbelief. “Of course,” I managed. “I’ll let him know .”
After some goodbyes and further condolences, I slipped toward the door. “Beau, I’ll bring the car around to the entrance again and text you .”
He nodded, and I let the door close and took a breath .
* * *
“Gwen?” I looked up to see my friend Penny. She lived in my building, as did a lot of the people who worked at MUSC because it was so close and had at one time been reasonably priced because the developer had gone under and had a fire sale of condos. Half of us who bought there hung on for dear life because we’d never get another deal so good. Others had taken the profit and moved on. Penny and I had moved in at exactly the same time. She had just finished her qualification to become a physician’s assistant and her parents had bought her the condo as a congratulatory present. I still had a mortgage I was paying off, but I almost owned it free and clear due to my accelerated payments now that I had a well-paying job .
She looked behind me to confirm I had indeed walked out of the grieving room .
“Beau’s grandfather,” I said to her concerned expression. “Walk me to the elevator .”
“Oh. How sad. He still single?” she asked hopefully. “Beau, I mean. Obviously. Not the dead guy .”
I laughed at her and felt relieved at the break in tension I’d been holding inside .
“Beau might need some cheering up,” she mused. “Right ?”
I continued walking .
“What?” she asked innocently when I gave her the side eye. “You know my mother raised me to always be the first over with the casserole to the newly divorced or widowed young man, just in case. That’s why I work in a hospital .”
“You’re like the dating equivalent of an ambulance-chasing lawyer.” I elbowed her. “Mercenary. Like half the single girls in this town .”
“You can’t blame a girl for trying. The dating world is tough. As you know. You’ve seen the creepers on the dating apps. By any means necessary has to be the mantra. Besides, that man is soooo hot,” she whined. “It’s a crime. Hooooow have you known him for so long and not tapped that ?”
I shook my head. “Keep your voice down .”
The elevator opened, and Penny followed me in .
“Never?”
“Never. You’ve asked me that before .”
“Seriously, Gwen. He’s straight and single and hot as sin. And clearly heir apparent . Are you dead inside ?”
“No. Yes. Maybe.” I punched the button for the ground floor .
“What? Maybe you think he’s hot?” she asked and gave a leap off both feet like an excited rabbit .
“No, maybe I’m dead inside .”
She stared at me. “No way,” she said suddenly .
“No,” I said and shook my head vigorously .
“Oh my God. You do like him.” Her face went from excited to somber in an instant. “Oh shit .”
“Nope.”
“Yep.”
My shoulders slumped. “Don’t say a word .”
“Never.”
The doors opened and I stepped out. Penny stayed inside .
“See you soon, Penny. And forget what you think you know. I mean it .”
She mimed locking her lips and held the elevator door. “You coming to the pool party on Saturday ?”
I frowned. “Tomorrow?” How had that snuck up on me ?
“No, next Saturday, goober .”
“I’ll have to see when the funeral is first .”
Penny clapped. “You’ll need a cute dress .”
“For the pool party ?”
“For the funeral, silly. It will be the most attended funeral you can imagine. Everyone will be there to support both Beau and his father. Two eligible men! You have to get in there first .”
“Is this conversation really happening ?”
“I’m thinking you should wear navy instead of black. Somber but not morbid. I have just the thing. Pop by this weekend. It’ll be fun,” Penny went on, holding the doors open. “Oh, and I have next Friday off too. Let’s go get waxed and get manis and pedis before the pool party? I have a coupon .”
“Sure,” I said so I could get going. I’d make an excuse to her closer to the time .
“And buy a new swim suit. A bikini! Make it sexy !”
“Bye, Penny.” I rolled my eyes, and she grinned at me as the doors closed. Only Penny could turn a funeral into a social event. I loved her, but she was slightly mad .
The full on beauty regime was just not my bag. My boss, Sylvie, had begged me to get manicures when I first started working at my new job, but they’d instantly get ruined as soon as I spent an evening helping dad in the boat shop. I’d since proved I could sell luxury yachts from glossy brochures with or without a manicure. And anyway, I didn’t seem to have a problem being hit on by all manner of men. Although usually, they were married which was unfortunate .
The amount of times I’d had to politely remind someone that I didn’t come with the boat was laughable. And I wasn’t under any illusions that it was my beauty, probably more that they thought I might be just desperate enough to say yes or be wowed by their money (since I obviously couldn’t even afford a manicure). I wasn’t sure grooming myself like a poodle wouldn’t make it worse because then I’d look as if I was trying very hard to be plucked out of the yacht showroom and installed in a mistress’ apartment .
I’d been blessed with my mother’s olive-green eyes and her Mediterranean skin, which held a permanent tan and rarely burned, but I had my father’s light sandy hair. It was an interesting mix of features. His at-home-DNA-kit he’d wanted for Christmas had told us he was part Viking and part some tiny isolated Nordic fishing tribe. Someo
ne must have had an interesting encounter up by the North Pole one day way back when .
Anyway, I normally felt completely mismatched in my appearance. Like I was cobbled together from spare parts. And I’d decided young I didn’t much care for all the primping and preening the other girls did to try and change themselves. We just were who we were, and that was that .
* * *
Beau had sobered up some on our windy drive across the bridge to the hospital, so when I offered him another beer at my condo, he declined. I threw his pillows and blanket I kept in my coat closet onto the couch. “Your toothbrush is under the sink .”
“Thanks.” Beau wandered around my tiny living room, looking lost .
“You want to watch a movie?” I asked. “Maybe a Disney movie?” It used to be our college hangover cure to sit around and watch kid movies. It started as a joke but had kind of become our thing. Not that Beau would ever admit it to anyone else .
“I hate Disney movies .”
“Fun fact, Beau Montgomery, you love Disney movies. You’ve watched them all with me. Multiple times, I might add .”
“I felt sorry for you,” he said, repeating our age-old exchange. “You’re a grown woman who has a collection of animated kids’ movies .”
“For every situation in life, there’s a scene or a l — ”
“Line in a Disney movie that can provide guidance,” he finished for me .
“Right,” I said primly .
“Except for Bambi ,” he grumbled right on cue. “Who the fuck was running Disney when they decided to make Bambi and traumatize an entire generation? No wonder my parents were so fucked up .”
“I don’t know, I never watched it.” Why would I watch a sweet baby fawn sob as his mother slowly bled out after being shot by a hunter ?
“I know,” said Beau. “But I did. Big mistake. You could have warned me .”
One day I’d get him to admit he was an addict like me .
“You take the bathroom first,” he said. “I’m going to watch Sports Center .”
I bit my lip. Eschewing Disney movies meant he really was feeling terrible .
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you with a little … Aladdin ? Or a little,” I waggled my hips, “Emperor’s New Groove ?”
He shook his head. “Sorry .”
I patted him on the shoulder and slipped into the bathroom. I rinsed off, brushed my teeth and changed into my sleep shorts and t-shirt .
When I came out, Beau was fast asleep sitting upright. I turned the TV off and gently pushed him sideways. I slipped his boat shoes off and lifted his legs with effort. Pulling the blanket over him, I tucked it behind his back so it wouldn’t slip off, then I took a moment to stare at his face so peaceful in sleep. His dark lashes lay gently on his cheekbones, and his chest rose and fell as the deep slow breaths of sleep claimed him. He actually got better looking every damn year. Even the little crow’s feet at the edge of his eyes were sexy .
I couldn’t resist gently moving a lock of hair off his forehead .
He frowned slightly, then relaxed .
“I love you, Gracie,” he said softly on a puff of air .
I stilled. The words were so clear they still floated through the silence .
He let out a deep sigh and then shifted, rolling over to face the back of the couch .
It didn’t mean anything, I told myself. We told each other we loved each other all the time. It was just that today had been weird. And everything today had felt weighted and important. Today he’d called me Gracie all day. He hadn’t called me Gracie in years. Since I’d told him to stop. My dad called me Gracie of course, and when I was seventeen Beau doing it had felt condescending. I’d wanted to be seen as a woman not a girl, so I’d asked, no demanded , that I be called Gwen. Not that it had done any good. He still saw me as his best friend and probably as a sister too. Especially since my father treated him like the proverbial son he never had .
I let out a long slow breath. “I love you too, Beau,” I whispered and then headed to bed .
I lay there too wired to sleep. It felt like everything in my world was about to tip sideways. I couldn’t put my finger on how or why, but somehow my gut couldn’t let the feeling go .
Tossing over to my side, I grabbed my spare pillow and mashed it into a huggable shape. Then I stared out of my uncovered window to the clear night sky. There was a glow from the city, but a few really bright stars still shone through. At seven floors up, I never had to draw my curtains for privacy. I had a gorgeous view over part of the peninsula, the marina, and the confluence of the Ashley and Cooper Rivers .
Beau’s words in my Jeep earlier came back to me. I’d been a sixteen-year-old’s wet dream? His dream? Did that mean at around the time I’d been demanding he see me as Gwen and not Gracie because I was crazy about him, he’d been crazy about me too ?
My blinks became longer, and I hugged the pillow tighter .
How had we both missed the boat all those years ago? Why had we fizzled into friendship? And tomorrow, would Beau remember what he’d admitted to me ?
Would it even matter now ?
3
Gwen
G wendolyn Grace! Stop fussin’ on me.” My dad’s voice was gruff from his coughing fits. “I can carry my own dang air .”
I stepped back, palms up in innocence, and watched him struggle to wheel the oxygen tank over the lip of the shop floor. “If you say so .”
“I say so.” He glared at me. He was embarrassed that the doc had told him he needed oxygen in addition to antibiotics after he was indeed confirmed as having a bout of pneumonia .
“You’re too proud for your own good, Daddy .”
“Been proud my whole life. Served me well.” He huffed. “What do you have, if you ain’t got no pride ?”
“An oxygen tank and a bad attitude. That’s what .”
“Girl, that don’t need an answer. And definitely not one all full of sass .”
“Come on, old man,” I grumbled at him good-naturedly. “Let me show you our progress .”
The interior of the boat shed was dim, and I felt for the switch that would light up the space down a flickering track of fluorescent tubes. The light filtering in through the high windows wasn’t enough after a certain time of day and certainly not an overcast morning like today. The clouds didn’t stop the heat though, if anything the heat and humidity stayed trapped by the clouds, feeling that much more oppressive. I switched on a floor fan to get the heavy air moving .
“Our progress?” He picked up on my use of the plural word. “Does that mean Beau big-for-his-britches has been back in here helping you ?”
I rolled my eyes at my dad’s nickname for Beau. He’d called him that as a boy, ever since he’d found out Beau was a Montgomery. It was never meant with malice, and while it drove Beau crazy for a while, he soon got over it .
“And how have you managed to take time off from work?” He’d been grumbling about my job since the day I got it. “You can’t sell a boat on a high street, you gotta be on the water,” my dad had complained. As you can imagine, that just wasn’t true. People liked to flick through the glossy heavy-gauge catalogs while sipping over-priced beverages and waiting for their wives to finish shopping at Lilly Pulitzer and Boden. It was calm, air-conditioned and serene. They felt like millionaires should feel when about to drop hundreds of thousands of dollars. Pampered and appreciated .
The lights of the warehouse shone down on the last boat to ever be made by Rhys Thomas. It was a small vessel compared to the sleek motor yachts I now talked about every day at my job, built in size similar to a Boston Whaler. But this one would come equipped with custom features, a beautifully crafted walnut console and wood accents. It would look like a pristine antique. My dad always told Beau growing up that if you could master the art of building wooden boats, you would rival any master carpenter anywhere. You could build anything you wanted .
My father looked the upside down hull over. He shuffled around
it, then ran his palms over the wood. “Great job, Gracie.” Dad could see a rough spot the size of a grain of sand from twenty paces. It was like he sensed them .
I flushed with pride. “Beau hasn’t been around the last couple of days. What with the funeral coming up .”
“You been doing this by yourself ?”
“It’s fine, Dad. I know it needs to be done .”
“You bent the wood in the steam box ?”
“Just like you showed me. Steamed it, bent it, clamped it into shape. I didn’t grow up in your boat shop and not learn anything .”
“I know. But I know you didn’t fall in love with the craft like Beau did. He’s like a son to me. You and he — ”
“Welp! Glad you approve of my work .”
My dad cleared his throat. “I know, I know. I thought one day, you and he might get together. It just seemed like … you might .”
“We’re friends, Dad. Nothing more.” The nothing came out heavier than I meant to sound .
“And he’s passionate about boats. So are you in a different way. It was silly of me. Y’all might be best friends, but that boy ain’t grounded, blowing through girlfriends at the rate of five a year. Not suited for you at all. That damned dog is the biggest commitment I’ve ever seen him make.” He shook his head .
I wisely stayed quiet. There was no good place this conversation ever went except to the guilt express .
“Did you tell him ?”
“Sure,” I said and looked anywhere but at my dad. “Hey, did I tell you that pink epoxy stuff you ordered came in from Canada? More expensive than caviar .”
“You didn’t tell him, did you ?”
I walked over to a pillar and picked at the flecks of peeling paint. “It just wasn’t the right time. What with the death in the family and all. Are you sure, Dad?” This was my father’s whole identity. Who was Rhys Thomas if not a boat builder? Who was I, for that matter, if not a boat builder’s daughter ?