Only for You

by Barb Curtis

  “I’ll get it,” Emily said, touching her arm. She took Nana’s cup to the sink.

  “You see what I’m dealing with?” Nana muttered to her dad.

  Her father grinned. “They learned their doting from you.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’ll be around a couple of days, probably. I’m staying at the Nightingale.”

  Nana stretched a veiny hand across the table. “We’d love it if you’d join us for dinner tomorrow night. All of us. Invite Tim, too, Emily.”

  Emily raised her brows at Nana. Her mom would lose her shit.

  “Tim?” Her dad asked.

  “Tim Fraser,” Emily clarified, her cheeks heating.

  “He and Emmy are an item,” Nana supplied. “What’s it been now, a couple of months?”

  “About that.” A little more if you counted the fake portion of their relationship. Emily twisted her napkin into a coil. “You remember him, don’t you, Dad?”

  Her dad stretched, leaning his head back into his cradled hands. “Of course I remember him. Wayne’s son. He used to work at the yacht club in the summers. Nice boy. I’m happy for you, sweetheart.”

  “We’re hoping she hangs on to this one,” Nana put in, and she and Emily’s dad shared a laugh.

  They were teasing, of course, but Emily stacked up the dirty dishes and took them to the dishwasher, hoping to avoid any further talk of her love life.

  When the back door whipped open, Emily craned her neck into the hallway. Her mom barreled in, shaking off her umbrella and sending droplets of water scattering all over the tile floor. “Whose SUV is out there?”

  Her dad surfaced in the hall, too, and leaned in the doorway. “Hello, Lynette.”

  The umbrella slid out of her mom’s hand and dropped to the floor. Her eyes darted to Emily and then back to her dad. She cleared her throat. “Hello, Phil. This is…unexpected.” She unbuttoned her coat and took her time hanging it in the closet.

  Emily pressed her hands together like she was praying and scrambled to smooth the tension. “There’s soup from Rosalia’s all heated up. And some cheese and a baguette.”

  “I’ll get to it.” Her mom blew out a breath and rushed past them. “I need a hot bath after being on my feet all day.”

  Her dad watched her walk away and then planted a kiss on Emily’s forehead. “I actually have to get over to the inn so I can check in. I’ll let you break the news about dinner tomorrow night,” he added in a whisper. “See you then.” He grabbed his coat off the hook. “Evelyn, thanks for the soup. It hit the spot.”

  “See you tomorrow, Phil,” Nana called after him, amusement twitching her lips.

  “Tomorrow,” her mom huffed as soon as the door clicked shut. Clearly her bath comment was just an excuse to escape. She pulled a bottle of white wine from the fridge and narrowed her blue eyes on Emily. “So not only did you call him and fill him in, but he’s gracing us with his presence again tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” Nana piped up. “He is, because I invited him for dinner, and since this is my house, I would appreciate it if you could be a little more welcoming to your daughter’s father. Give the man a break, Lynette, and quit your sulking.”

  Her mom polished—more accurately, assaulted—a wineglass with a dishtowel until it practically gleamed. “Give the man a break,” she muttered.

  Emily loaded dirty bowls into the dishwasher, feeling her mother’s tension from all the way across the room. “Everything okay, Mom?”

  Her mom unscrewed the cap on the wine and poured. “Sure, if you count your ex-husband showing up on top of an already dreadful day.”

  Rather than get into an argument, Emily focused on rinsing the cups in the sink before placing them in the upper rack of the dishwasher.

  “You just had to go and call him, didn’t you?”

  Okay, clearly her mom wasn’t content to let it go.

  Nana propped her hands on her hips. “The man is her father, Lynette. She’s entitled to reach out to him anytime she feels like it. What the hell is your problem, all of a sudden? It’s not as though you haven’t had years to move past your grudges.”

  “I’m not holding any grudges.” Glass in hand, her mom started toward the living room and then turned back. “All I’m saying is that it’s just like him to go months without speaking to anybody and then breeze in during a crisis and act like he’s always there for us. It’s bullshit.”

  Nana’s eyes followed her mom down the hall, where she settled on the couch and flicked on the TV. “Do you want to tell her they split up or should I?”

  “You can tell her. Or not.” Best not to subject Nana to any more stress. “We’ll let her find out organically.”

  Nana winked. “Might be safer. I think I’ll go watch the news in my room, where the air isn’t so cool.”

  Emily squeezed her arm. “Good plan.”

  With Nana upstairs and her mom staring at the TV, pretending to watch it, Emily helped herself to a brownie and settled at the table to text Tim and invite him to dinner tomorrow night.

  God knew she needed the backup.

  Right away it said “read,” but the dots indicating he was replying didn’t appear. When she realized a reply wasn’t forthcoming, she scrolled through social media to check out some of the promo she’d posted for the festival. Melissa’s post still popped up in her feed no matter how many entertainment sites she’d unfollowed over the past few days. Tim’s name was still mentioned in practically every episode, too, which kept him on all the fans’ radars. They’d assumed by now the hype would’ve dwindled, but somehow it just kept mounting.

  She checked for a text again. Still nothing. She might’ve been reading too much into it or being unnecessarily paranoid, but for the past few days, it seemed as if he was pulling away a little. Sure she’d been the one working all hours and busy with Nana, but it wasn’t like him not to at least check in. There had been a definite shift in his communication. Had something else happened?

  Dread pulled her stomach in a bunch of different directions, but she forced herself not to jump to conclusions.

  Maybe he didn’t want to crowd her when she had so much going on. Plus, exhaustion wore on her, no doubt making her overly emotional. She watched her mom in the living room, stone faced. The woman claimed to be happily single, but the truth was that she compared everyone to the man she insisted she was over for the past twenty-five years. Emily and Nana both knew the truth. She remained alone because she was too hung up on the life she’d once had to move on.

  What if this thing with Tim never materialized? Is that how she’d be? Sixty-two years old and still carrying a torch for someone who wouldn’t reciprocate her feelings?

  Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it, embarrassingly quickly.

  Tim—I wish I could, but I already made plans with Rob tomorrow night. He’s in kind of a bad place right now and I figured you’d be busy anyway.

  No worries, she texted back. It was valid. She couldn’t blame Tim for wanting to be a friend to Rob after the way his life had fallen apart. Still, as much as she tried to rationalize it and put it out of her mind, his distance weighed on her.

  Tomorrow night’s dinner would be complicated. She wished he could be there with her for support.

  Like a real boyfriend would.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tim called it a day a little early on Saturday, leaving Great Wide Open in the hands of Blake for the last couple of hours. It still bothered him that he’d had to decline the invitation to dinner at Evelyn’s. Emily could probably use the support, with both her parents in the same room, but he’d already made plans with Rob and didn’t want to back out when the guy was going through so much. He told her he’d text her if he got home at a reasonable hour.

  He hadn’t seen her much all week, unless you counted festival committee meetings. With the time she’d spent at her grandmother’s helping out and her work schedule, she’d burned the candle at both ends.

  Almost a week had passed since his mom had cal
led him out on being in love with Emily, and he was still struggling with coming to terms with it. At first he’d been in denial. Then he’d gotten angry with himself for letting it happen. Then he accepted it but worried it was too much too fast.

  Way to complicate things, when he already had so much turmoil going on with all the drama from the show. Bad enough that the attention constantly pushed him close to his tipping point, but now Emily suffered too. She’d been such a trouper about it all from day one, but Melissa’s visit to Sapphire Springs had deflated her some. She’d tried to save face, but it affected her more than she let on.

  “Tim Fraser.”

  Please do not be another producer from the show.

  Tim’s boots scuffed the pavement when he slowed his pace and turned around.

  A man waved and sauntered over. He knew him from somewhere.

  Then it clicked.

  “Mr. Holland. Emily mentioned you were in town.” Tim extended a hand.

  “Please, call me Phil.” They shook hands, and Phil slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m only around for a day or two. Emily filled me in on Evelyn’s surgery, so I thought I better make a trip to check on my girls. Good to see you.”

  Tim didn’t miss the way he said girls, plural. The fact that he still cared about all three of them was obvious. “It’s good to see you, too.” He didn’t know Phil well, but it was enough to shoot the shit a little, having grown up in the same town where he lived for many years.

  “I know you’ve probably got places to be.” Phil glanced out at the water. “But could you spare a few minutes? I’ll buy you a drink at the yacht club.”

  Tim rubbed his chin. Rob wouldn’t care what time he got there, and Tim had always liked Phil Holland. Besides, Emily’s dad might want to know how she was really coping with Evelyn’s prognosis.

  Or he might want to have a man-to-man chat with the guy his daughter was sleeping with. Either way, Phil had Tim’s respect.

  “Sure.”

  They fell into stride across the parking lot toward the yacht club.

  Clive the bartender glanced up from his crossword puzzle when they walked in. Barely anyone hung out at the club this time of year, other than a few regulars whose asses were practically molded to the barstools. Tim had grown up around the club, sailing with his father and then racing in his teens. By the time high school rolled around, he’d moved up to teaching the junior learn-to-sail program. Most of the same crew still hung out here, twenty years later.

  They chose a table near the large windows overlooking the lake, and Tim lifted the heavy wooden chair to pull it away from the table. Once seated, he relaxed into the pale blue padded-leather backrest.

  “What can I get ya, boys?” Clive called from the bar.

  “Glenlivet for me. Neat,” Phil called over his shoulder.

  Hell, yeah. A Scotch man. He could definitely get along with Phil. “Make it two,” Tim added.

  Seconds later, Clive dropped coasters on the table and set down their drinks.

  Tim sipped, the rich malt flavor coating his tongue. He swallowed, appreciating the satisfying little burn.

  “How’s retirement treating you, Lieutenant?” Phil asked, lifting a brow.

  He’d done his homework. Impressive. “These days I’m busier than I ever thought of being when I was in the Navy.” And having a hell of a lot more fun.

  “I can see that. You’ve got a growing enterprise down here on the dock. I knew your father back in the day when I used to bartend a bit here at the club. He always talked about opening up a shop, doing boat tours. I can tell you, he’d be proud.”

  Tim’s breath caught for a second. He pushed past the emotion clouding his vision to focus on the old wooden ship wheel hanging over the brick fireplace. “Thank you. I remember you bartending here. That was a long time ago.”

  They sipped in silence for a few beats before Phil pushed his chair back and crossed his legs, revealing argyle socks. “So. You’re seeing my daughter.”

  Despite wanting to shrink a little into his chair, Tim grinned. “Is this where we have the talk?”

  Phil swirled the amber-hued Scotch around his glass, and his eyes crinkled with affection. “I’m hardly in a position to grill a man dating my adult daughter. I’ve missed out on an awful lot with Emily. I haven’t been around enough to earn an opinion on what she does or with whom she spends her time. She made that clear years ago. I don’t know you very well, Tim, but I knew your dad, and that means you come from good stock. So for whatever it’s worth, I do approve.”

  Tim swallowed hard. Every single scenario that could make him feel guiltier just waited in the wings to rear its ugly head this week. Despite the family drama, Emily’s dad was a nice guy. “It’s worth a lot,” he managed. “Thank you.”

  Phil nodded, sucked back the last of his drink, and held up a finger to Clive for another. “Would you like another one?”

  Under different circumstances, he’d have liked to sit and hang out with Phil, but Rob expected him soon. Tim shook his head a little regretfully. “I would love to, but I can’t tonight. I’ve gotta drive later.”

  “Understandable,” Phil replied. “I’ve got dinner with the ladies tonight, so I’m not going to overindulge, either. I’ll hang out here a while first, though—relive my glory days.” He chuckled.

  Tim nodded. “Yeah, sorry I’m not able to make it to dinner. Listen, thanks for the chat. Let’s do it again next time you’re in town.”

  “You can bet on it.” Phil saluted him.

  Tim stopped at the bar and passed Clive some cash. “Phil’s drinks are on me, okay?”

  Clive put the money in the till. “You got it.”

  Tim trotted down the steps of the yacht club and headed for his truck. He made a stop at the liquor store on his way to Leyna’s cottage, where Rob was temporarily living since he’d moved back to Sapphire Springs and she’d moved in with Jay. He parked next to Rob’s truck and lifted a six-pack of beer out of the back.

  When he poked his head in the kitchen, Rob waved from the stove. “Hey, man, I hope you didn’t eat. I’m cooking up some steaks. Grab a cold one out of the fridge.”

  “Smells amazing. I’m starved.” He added his own beers to the fridge and took one that was already cold. “I would’ve been here sooner, but I actually met up with Emily’s dad for a drink.”

  “Oooh…” Rob drew out the word, angling his brows. “How’d that go?”

  Tim twisted the cap off of his beer and tossed it in the garbage on the other side of the room. “It was fine. I like him. He didn’t try to be all overprotective or anything.” He wandered around, checking out some books on the coffee table: Anger: Taming Powerful Emotion and Get Out of Your Own Way.

  “Those are required reading, courtesy of the court,” Rob supplied, rolling his eyes. He placed a platter of steaks on the table. “Food’s ready. Dig in.”

  Steam curled out of Tim’s baked potato when he pierced it with his fork and cut in. “It occurred to me on the drive over here that we should start tossing some ideas around for Jay’s bachelor party. The wedding is only a couple of months away.” He carved off a piece of steak and devoured it. “Shit, man, that’s good.” Tim wasn’t just making nice. It was juicy, tender, and loaded with flavor.

  “Thanks.” Rob scooped up a dollop of sour cream and dropped it on his potato. “You got any ideas?”

  Tim shook his head. “Not really. I thought maybe a trip to the casino in Buffalo, or if he’s not into that idea, something more low-key.” He paused to sip his beer. “Look, I still feel kind of guilty that he asked me to be his best man. I hope you weren’t offended.”

  “No way,” Rob said as he shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth. When he finished chewing, he continued. “The two of you kept in touch all those years he lived in France, and to be honest, I don’t have it in me right now to take on the whole best man role. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy as hell for them, but I’m not feeling overly celebratory these days when it
comes to anything, especially relationships. I’d have been a drag of a best man, and Jay deserves better.”

  He got up and pulled a beer from the fridge. “Not to mention my views on marriage are a little…distorted at the moment, considering the divorce and all.”

  “Understandably so,” Tim offered, though his mouth was half full. “So is it official yet?”

  “It’s a done deal, as far as us signing the papers and everything, but it won’t be official until the first of April—once we’ve been separated six months. The custody issue, unfortunately, is going to take much longer to figure out.” He rubbed the heel of his hand over dark-rimmed eyes.

  Rob’s two girls, Carly and Sarah, were his whole world. “How long are they going to make you do this supervised visitation thing?” Tim asked, leaning away from the table.

  Rob’s dark hair fluttered over his forehead when he blew out a long breath. “A few months for sure. At least until the anger management classes are over. The worst part of all is that the girls are the ones suffering.”

  He returned to the table. “When you decide you want to marry somebody you think, okay, this is the one. She’s going to be different than all my ex-girlfriends. Statistics?” He gave a sarcastic wave of his hand. “Those are for everyone else.”

  Chewing, Tim nodded. He got that. After all, Melissa had seemed different at first, too. In any case, apparently he wasn’t the man she’d wanted him to be.

  Still, it didn’t excuse the cheating.

  “You know, Issey and I had our share of problems before Marcus ever came into the picture. Things weren’t good. If they had been, she wouldn’t have had an affair. I wasn’t gutted by it because of what it meant for me. I was and still am disappointed because of what it means for the girls—growing up in a broken home. I never wanted that for them.”

  Tim pushed his plate away. “That’s gotta be more common than not, these days. You’ll make the best of it. That’s all you can do.” He could understand Rob’s disappointment, though. Tim had been the best man at their wedding, back when everything was love songs and promises. Rob had the whole package wrapped up nice and neat—gorgeous wife, promising career, beautiful kids, a nice home. Tim couldn’t remember for sure if they’d had a picket fence, but it wouldn’t have surprised him.