by Olivia Miles
She pursed her lips as she unpacked everything. From the closed door to her father’s study, she could hear the sounds of a game show on the television. Deciding to let her father be for now, and rather certain that he wasn’t alone, she went upstairs to text her landlord and power up her laptop. The internet was slow, and while she waited for it to connect, she opened her desk drawers in search of a pad of paper and a pen.
She smiled a little at the contents of the top drawer. Her favorite pink eraser growing up, a single flower-shaped earring, the other long forgotten, and a few postcards that her cousin Gabby had sent her from a family vacation when they were only thirteen. And a photo of her and Robbie, taken in one of those photo booths, the strip of images black and white and small.
She remembered that day. It had been a school dance, the last one that they had gone to together, the spring of their senior year. She’d worn a pink dress and Amelia had helped her pull her hair back in a way they’d seen in a magazine. She’d gone into her parents’ bedroom to give her mother a twirl, her throat closing up when she saw how pale her mother looked, how the tears that shone in her eyes seemed laced with something more than pride, and she’d suddenly lost all desire to go to the dance at all, even though she’d been looking forward to it. She wanted to stay home, in that bed with her mother. She wanted to never leave, and she only had because her mother had urged her to, to go out, have fun. To live her life.
Britt stared at the photo for a few minutes, seeing now that her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes, that there was a shadow lingering, a reminder that she was torn, she was where she was supposed to be, but it wasn’t where she’d wanted to be.
And now, now she didn’t know where she was supposed to be. Or where she wanted to be, either.
Well, no use thinking about the past. She shut the drawer with a bang and held her fingers over the keyboard. She’d vowed not to dwell on those days a long time ago, and the sooner she had a new job lined up and a reason to leave this town, the better it would be to put it all behind her again.
7
Britt was at her father’s desk the next morning when a knock at the open door interrupted her from thinking too much about the text from her landlord that had just popped up on her screen. The one that said that subletting her apartment wasn’t necessary, because her lease was up at the end of the month, and while he had her, would she be renewing?
Could she even renew? She’d again wrestled with the thought of her small nest egg. Her life in Chicago. Was that how she wanted to use the funds? Anxiety squeezed her stomach and she was happy for a distraction from her problems, even if the person standing in her doorway was none other than Robbie.
“You have a minute?” he asked.
“I’m happy you stopped by, actually,” she said, smiling, but the pinch of his brow made her regret her words. Quickly, she reached into her handbag and pulled out an envelope. She extended it to him. “For last night,” she said.
A look of realization came over his face and he held up a hand. “No need to repay me, Britt.”
There was most certainly need, and her pride was only part of it. She didn’t like feeling indebted to Robbie. Didn’t like feeling that he’d done her a favor, or that she owed him. Didn’t like entertaining any thoughts that they were still connected, that they still did things for each other. Even as friends.
“Please,” she said. “Spend it on Keira.” She grinned at the thought of the little girl.
He approached her desk but didn’t take the envelope. “How about we just use it to help pay for the repair to the juicer?”
Britt felt the color drain from her face when she saw the bemused expression in his eyes and knew that he wasn’t joking. “Is that what you came in here to talk about?”
“Well, I wasn’t here to talk about the weather,” he remarked.
Or memory lane, she thought, pushing back a swell of disappointment.
She clicked the top of her pen and set it down on the desk. “How bad is it?”
Robbie held up his hands with a shrug. “Let’s just say the thing should have been replaced years ago. Last time it broke—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Last time?” She knew that the commercial equipment they held in the adjacent building needed servicing from time to time, but from the way Robbie made it sound, there was a bigger problem at play.
“Like I said, the thing should have been replaced years ago.”
“And why wasn’t it?” It seemed like an obvious question, and one with an equally obvious answer. Money. If her father wasn’t willing to replace a key piece of equipment that cost a few thousand dollars, then he must know the business was in trouble. She shook her head. “Never mind. Just show me the damage.” She pushed back from her desk and stood, noticing the way Robbie’s eyes dropped over her black A-line skirt and pale pink blouse. Yes, she was wearing a strand of pearls. Was it really such a big deal to dress as a professional? She was an adult woman, in her early thirties, not the young girl she’d been last time he’d seen her.
He led the way across the gravel to the next building, waving to Otis and Wally, who were labeling wine bottles, eventually stopping in the juicing room where the large, stainless-steel machine sat quiet and idle. She knew there was no sense in trying to push any buttons, but she couldn’t help but be sure it was actually plugged into an outlet. No such luck.
“Now what?” She was all too aware that she was turning to him for an answer, for insight, and expertise, because even though this was her family’s business, he was the one who’d been here, when she wasn’t, just like he’d been quick to point out the other day.
“The repairman can be here Monday. Problem is, if we don’t get these strawberries juiced, they won’t keep over the weekend, or at least, they won’t taste as fresh, and we’re supposed to get an order of strawberry cider out by early next week.” He gave her a little shrug. “Looks like we’ll be doing this the old-fashioned way.”
She blinked at him, wondering if he meant what she thought he did. Back at home, and when she was younger and helping out in the business, they used small devices, meant to work in small batches, in a home kitchen.
It was something she hadn’t thought about in years, something she hadn’t even remembered. But Robbie had.
“I didn’t even know we still had these things,” she said as he pulled two small juicers from a cabinet.
“Like I said, the machine isn’t exactly reliable.”
“And running a company without commercial-sized equipment is not the way to stay in business!”
Robbie just shook his head. “It was this way at one point in time. It’s what makes Conway ciders taste so good, right? That homemade flavor? It’s tradition.”
She shook her head. “It’s archaic.”
He said nothing more as he handed her an apron from a hook on the wall and began rolling up his sleeves.
“Are we really going to do this?” she asked, laughing nervously as she tied the apron strings at her lower back.
“Unless you have a better idea?” He pulled a carton of strawberries from where they were stacked on the counter and rolled them into the colander in the sink for a rinse.
She watched the muscles in his arms strain against the weight and felt a pulling in her stomach until she had to look away.
A better idea than working side by side with Robbie for the remainder of the afternoon? She sadly couldn’t think of a better idea at all.
*
They worked in companionable silence for the first half hour, each focused on the task at hand, each knowing what to do without needing to instruct the other. Back in middle school, when it had been one of Britt’s chores to tend to this task, she’d enlisted Robbie, then just her pal, to help her on days that they wanted to spend time together, and he’d never complained. Said he was just happy to be by her side.
She gave a little smile as she pressed more juice into the pitcher. She supposed she should have known then that he lov
ed her.
Once.
“What’s that look for?” he asked, giving her a sidelong glance.
She pulled in a breath, looked back down at her hands. It was easier than looking him in the eye, and the last thing she needed to do was break another machine, however small, and however familiar she was with it. Sometimes it was that kind of comfort level that led to destruction. Made you put your guard down. Made you slip. Made you careless.
Had she been careless with Robbie? Had she pushed him away? Or had she clung to him too much, when she needed to know that the person she cared most about in this world other than her parents and her sisters was a constant, steady force. That he would always be there.
Until he wasn’t. He’d stood by her side, he’d wiped her tears, and he’d made her laugh, shown her how life could still go on.
But he hadn’t come with her to Chicago. Said he wanted to stay. That she should too.
And then, he’d left without her.
“I was just remembering the times that we used to do this together,” she said, monitoring the machine carefully. Anything was easier than looking at Robbie right now.
“You loved it,” Robbie said. “But then, you loved everything about this place. You had big plans to take it over one day.”
She blinked, startled that he would remember such a thing, shocked that she had forgotten it. It was true that she had loved this orchard, loved the business of it, the endless tasks that kept it running. She had loved waiting for the apples to grow, and then watching them be pressed into cider. Her father had always let her take the first sip. It was their little secret, he’d told her with a wink.
She cleared her throat and rubbed her palms over her apron skirt. “Yes, well, I had a lot of plans back then.”
Robbie said nothing, just set to work on the machine. She studied him for a moment, but realized that she didn’t need any reminders. It came back as naturally as riding her creaky old bike had.
“Who would have known that all those afternoons spent making small batches would have come in handy all these years later?”
He was silent for a minute, and when he spoke, she could hear the sadness in his voice. “Who would have known a lot of things back then?”
She looked up at him, properly, even though his eyes were now focused on his hands, on pushing the strawberries into the juicer, and emptying the pitcher into the large, plastic bin they had on the counter in front of them, which would be mixed with the apple cider that was already stored and waiting.
“I have to admit that seeing you here, at the orchard, well, I couldn’t have predicted that,” she said, waiting to see his reaction. “One day you were dead set on staying in town. The next, I heard you were gone. Gone for good, I thought.” Like me, she finished to herself.
“Well, it was certainly a surprise for me, too.” He gave her a wide-eyed look that made her laugh.
“Not a good one, I assume,” she said, fixing her eyes on the machine before her.
He looked at her until she met his eye. “I never said that,” he said quietly.
Oh boy. Her heart started racing and she could feel the heat in her cheeks, knowing that she couldn’t stop the blush. She walked to the sink and washed her hands. She’d already done so, and if Robbie noticed, he didn’t say anything.
“Well, we’re both back now. Against all odds, I suppose,” she said, when she was sure her voice wouldn’t betray her.
“Life is funny like that,” he said with a raise of the eyebrows. “Sometimes, I look back on those days and I wonder what I would have changed, if I’d known then what I do now. If I’d known how it would all turn out.”
“You think you still would have moved to Boston?” she asked.
“Without Boston, I wouldn’t have met Stephanie, and I never would have Keira.” He looked at her. “Guess you could say I wouldn’t have changed a thing.”
She blinked. She didn’t know why, but she hadn’t been expecting that. Robbie was content with where his life had led him, or accepting of it, at least. He had no regrets, not even for not coming with her to Chicago all those years ago. Whereas she…she didn’t know where her life was going anymore, and being here, next to her first love, her only love, she wasn’t sure that she ever knew.
“I’m sorry,” she said, glancing away. “About your wife.”
“It wasn’t easy at first, but we’re managing,” he said stiffly, returning to the juicing. “And being back in town helps, you know? There’s a sense of community. It’s…well, it’s not as lonely here as it was back in the city.”
“I kind of like the solitude of city life,” she mused. “No one knows you unless you let them in.” Unlike here, where she was pretty sure that Patsy over at the women’s clothing boutique knew the exact bra size of every female in this town.
Robbie shrugged. “I always liked it here, but I didn’t appreciate it fully until I had time away from it. Now, being back, well, it feels like I never left.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Britt said, reaching for another carton of berries. There was a long pause, and she knew that he was giving her space, waiting for her to fill it, when she was ready. “My dad has a new girlfriend, you know.”
At this, Robbie let out a whoop of surprise, and despite herself, Britt grinned. It was rather shocking, after all.
“After all this time? Who is it?” Robbie stared at her, waiting for more details.
Britt curled her lip. “His caretaker. Candace.” She held up a finger, catching her error. “Correction. She prefers to go by the name Candy. Claims it’s because she’s so sweet.”
Now Robbie laughed, low and steady, like a roll of thunder. “Well, I’ll be. The man falls off a ladder and ends up falling in love.”
Britt felt her skin prickle. “Oh, now I don’t know about love. But…he does seem happy. Happier than he’s been in a long time. Since—” She shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“Well, good for him,” Robbie said firmly.
“Yeah,” she said a little weakly. “Good for him. I want him to be happy. It’s just not easy seeing him happy with someone else.”
Understanding clouded Robbie’s gaze, and he nodded once. “I understand. It’s probably one of the reasons your dad never really pursued a relationship.”
“Is that the reason you aren’t?”
“I’ve got my hands full raising Keira,” Robbie clarified. “And your father had you four. Four.” He let out a low whistle. “I can’t even imagine.”
Maddie had been thirteen when their mother died, and Cora was only fourteen, being only a year and a half different in age. Amelia had stayed most practical, getting things done, keeping busy, not showing her emotions. At the time, Britt didn’t know how she did it.
But later, she learned how to do it all on her own. It was a coping mechanism. Staying focused. Staying busy. Not letting yourself think too much about what hurt the most, not when it couldn’t be changed or undone.
“He certainly never went looking for love again,” Britt agreed with a sigh. She wasn’t sure how she would have felt if he had. “But I guess it found him.”
Robbie met her eye as they reached for the last carton of berries at the same time, their hands skimming each other, sending a shot of warmth up Britt’s arm, straight to the chest. Straight to the gut.
She snatched her hand back and stepped away. Robbie looked at her, his expression unreadable, even though once she could tell everything that he was thinking with a single glance.
Or she’d thought so at least.
“I suppose that happens sometimes, doesn’t it?” he said, his voice a little gruff. “Life just…happens.”
Britt looked deep into his eyes, long enough to see the freckles on his nose that used to gather and build on long summer days at the lakefront, long enough to see the little scar above his right eyebrow when he’d stood a little too close as his brother had taken a swerve on the tennis court out near the old country club. Long
enough to let her gaze drop to his mouth, to remember how it felt to touch his lips, to taste him. Long enough to imagine how it would feel to do that again, right here, now in this kitchen.
She cleared her throat and began fumbling with her apron strings. “It’s all yours. I should probably get back up to the office anyway.”
She wondered if he’d protest, or make some snarky comment about bossing him around, but Robbie’s eyes had drifted to the door behind her.
“Hey you!”
Confused, Britt turned to see Keira standing in the doorway, grinning shyly as she waited to be invited into the room.
“On Fridays, my mom drops her off on the way to her bridge club,” he explained. He held up the last carton of strawberries and grinned at his daughter. “Want to help me juice this the old-fashioned way?”
“Sure!” Keira said excitedly, her eyes lighting up the way that Robbie’s once did. And didn’t anymore, Britt thought, with a wave of nostalgia. It was proof, she supposed, that even though they were both here, in Blue Harbor, that you couldn’t go back. That they weren’t the same people. Even if, for a little while there, she had dared to hope that they might be.
Robbie patiently led Keira through the steps, only after first ensuring that she had washed her hands, and of course Keira needed an apron—it made things official.
Keira watched the juice flow through the press and grinned. “Cool! Where’d you learn to do this?”
“Britt taught me,” Robbie told her. He looked up over her head and gave Britt a wink.
She felt it straight in her chest. Really, this was becoming ridiculous now.
“You must be a really smart lady,” Keira said, and Britt burst out laughing.
“Well…”
“Oh, don’t be humble,” Robbie chided. “She is a smart lady. She has a very big job back in Chicago.”