by Sarah Morgan
“All right.” Decision made, she felt a rush of excitement. “I’ll talk to Celia.”
“Your boss didn’t strike me as the most sympathetic of people. Will she say yes?”
Flora thought about all the weekends she’d worked, all the holidays, and the number of times she’d slogged to the flower market when her colleagues were too hungover or too generally lazy to show up. “I think she’ll say yes.”
Surely Celia would be reasonable when Flora pointed out how flexible she’d been? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to go with Jack and his girls. By the time she arrived back at work she was fired up and determined.
“Celia, could I please have a word?”
“Not now,” her boss said. “I have four—”
“Now,” Flora said, surprising both of them with the force of her tone.
She almost apologized for sounding so assertive but then realized that you couldn’t be firm one minute and wobbly the next. If she was doing this, she was doing this.
“I wondered if it might be possible to—” pathetic, pathetic. She stopped in midsentence and lifted her chin. “I need to take three weeks off from the middle of July.”
Celia frowned. “Is this some sort of joke?”
Flora’s heart beat faster. Celia wasn’t happy, and Flora preferred people to be happy. But Celia wasn’t her aunt. Flora didn’t owe her anything except her dedication as an employee. And she’d gone way beyond that.
It was time she grabbed a little happiness for herself. “It’s no joke.”
“Staff are allowed a maximum of a week at a time.”
“I know, but I took no vacation time at all last year, and I have worked most weekends and every holiday for—” she searched her brain “—actually since I started working here.”
“You’re seriously asking me for three weeks off?” Celia’s expression was so threatening that Flora had an almost overwhelming urge to apologize and back down. Three weeks? You’re right, it’s a ridiculous request. Ignore me.
But then she imagined Jack and the girls on vacation by themselves. Taking long walks in the forest, and enjoying lazy evenings under the stars. And she knew that if she backed down now, not only would she not get to go on vacation with Jack, but Celia would never stop giving her the armpit work slots.
She clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms. “Actually, Celia, I’m not asking. I’m telling you. As a courtesy.” Panic engulfed her. Her legs weakened as she imagined Celia showing her the door.
Celia was obviously imagining that too because she straightened her shoulders in an aggressive stance. “And what if I tell you your job won’t be here when you come back?”
Flora felt a wave of dizziness. What if Celia was serious? What if she lost her job? “I hope that won’t be the case because I enjoy working here—” that wasn’t exactly true, but there was a limit to how assertive Flora was prepared to be in one session “—and I think there are many of your regular clients who would miss me if I wasn’t here.”
Celia’s eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened. “Fine,” she said finally. “But not a day longer than three weeks.”
Flora almost died of shock. Part of her wanted to check that she’d understood correctly. Are you sure? Do you mean it? Fortunately her instinct told her to quit while she was ahead. And she smothered the impulse to hug Celia, because her boss was about as huggable as a cactus.
“Thank you.” Flora turned and guided her shaking legs across the store to where Julia was wrestling with a huge hand-tied bouquet.
“What are you looking so pleased about?” Julia cursed as she trapped her finger under the knot she was tying. “And how do you make this look so easy? I’m the only person who can lose a finger making a bouquet.”
“I stood up to Celia.”
“Well good for you. And not before time.” Julia finally managed to tie the bouquet. “Does this look okay?”
Flora tweaked it a little. “It’s great.”
“So what did you say no to? Another weekend? Another early morning? That woman really pushes her luck.”
“I’m taking three weeks off in the summer.” She gave Julia a summary of her encounter with Celia but instead of punching the air and congratulating her, her friend looked appalled.
“You’re going on a three-week vacation? I can’t believe you asked Celia for that.”
“You’re the one who told me to stand up to her.”
“I know, but I was talking about not letting her force you to work every weekend. Not this. Three weeks with the dead wife’s best friend? Doing all the things the wife used to do? Are you sure about this?”
Flora’s stomach lurched. She was sure. She was. “Yes. I’m excited. I want to be with Jack. Being with Jack means being with his girls and fitting into his life. Fitting in with whatever they usually do as a family.”
“What about the friend? She might not be thrilled to see her best friend’s husband with another woman. She might stab you between the shoulder blades the moment you arrive. Before you know it, your body will be decaying in that forest.”
Why was it that Julia always managed to articulate the fears Flora had been trying to ignore?
“I promise not to turn my back on her.”
“What are the sleeping arrangements? Have you even had sex yet?”
Mortified, Flora glanced across the store. “Could you keep your voice down? I don’t think they heard you in Florida.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Not actual sex, although we have had some very erotic moments.”
“Where?”
Flora wished her friend wasn’t quite so insistent on details. “Everywhere. I think about sex a lot when I’m with him. He’s very—”
“Yes, I noticed—” Julia waggled her eyebrows “—but, Flora, at some point you have to do more than think about sex.”
“We’ve done more than think. We’ve kissed.”
“You kissed.” Julia stared at her. “And?”
“There is no ‘and.’ We’ve kissed. And it is always amazing, and stop looking at me like that because frankly kissing him was better than any sex I ever had.”
“You must have had terrible sex.”
“I wouldn’t say I’ve been particularly lucky in my past relationships, but that’s mostly my fault. I’m usually so intent on pleasing other people, I find it hard to please myself. But that’s ending. I’m working on it.”
“Well you need to work on it faster. Call this an intervention if you like. Right now you’re in a celibate relationship where your main focus seems to be quietly filling the gap left by his late wife. And for this you don’t even get great sex?”
“If the photos are to be believed, I’m significantly heavier than she was so I’d probably get stuck in the gap.” Her attempt at a joke didn’t even raise a smile. “This vacation is me pleasing myself. I want to spend time with them.”
“Has he said he loves you?”
“No, and that’s fine. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear those words.” She gave a grunt of pain as she bent to cut some string. “I haven’t said them, either.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“Don’t know. Trying not to think about it.”
“You don’t want to be in love?”
“Not if he isn’t going to love me back. Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is the ultimate confidence crusher.” She thought of her aunt. “It’s also exhausting and bad for the soul, because you keep thinking ‘maybe if I do this or that, they’ll love me,’ so you keep trying but it doesn’t make any difference and it’s pretty hard not to take that personally. Before long you’ve twisted yourself into so many knots you don’t even know how to get back to the person you were.”
Julia stared at her. “How about just being yourself?”
“That never works for me. Or it never has in the past.” She tied the bouquet, thinking about all the things she’d told Jack that she’d
never told anyone else. Not even Julia. “With Jack, I am mostly myself. That’s what makes it scarier. If he rejects me, he’s rejecting the real me, not a manufactured version of me. Does that make sense?”
“Not really. When I met Geoff I loved him, he loved me. The real me. End of. It’s pretty simple really.”
“There is nothing simple about relationships. You two are lucky, that’s all.”
“Well, you obviously have strong feelings for Jack. And you love Molly, so Izzy is the only real obstacle. Do you even see how insane this is? If Izzy only likes you because you go running with her, then you’ll have to run every day forever and that is going to kill you. Are you planning on being a fake person for the rest of your life?”
“Maybe I’ll be a fitter person. I certainly ache more.” She rubbed her spine and tried to ignore the pain in her legs.
“Have you tried stretching?”
“No. I can’t move, let alone stretch. My objective is survival. I haven’t had a heart attack yet, so that’s got to be good, right? And if I’m spending the vacation with Jack, I need to look decent in a pair of shorts.”
Julia gave her a dark look. “I think how your legs look in shorts is the least of your worries right now.”
Was Julia right? Maybe.
One thing was sure—this holiday was going to be make-or-break. Flora hoped she wasn’t the one who was going to break.
10
Clare
“I’ve had an email from Jack.” Clare spread butter onto toast, and added a spoonful of the orange marmalade she’d spent the whole of the day before making. Most of the jars would be stored and used for weekend treats over the coming summer, but she’d kept this one back. If she was going to toil over a boiling pan, the least she could do was savor the fruits of her labor.
“How’s he doing?” Todd reached across and stole her toast.
She gave him a look. “Why do you always eat mine?”
“Yours always tastes better for some reason. And I love your marmalade. You should start a business.”
They were sitting at the large kitchen table that had originally belonged to her grandmother and bore the scars of generations of family life. So many conversations had taken place here.
Clare ran her finger absently over one of the grooves, wondering who had carved it. “Just because you’re good at something, doesn’t mean you have to turn it into a business. Sometimes you can do something because you enjoy it.”
“I’ve annoyed you.” He leaned in and kissed her. “It was a compliment, not a real suggestion.”
“No, I’m the one being sensitive. It sounded like—”
“—something Becca would say.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I know. The moment I said it, I knew you’d think that. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think of her. So how is Jack?”
“He didn’t email you? He was asking about the summer.” Clare stood up and slid another slice of bread into the toaster, pondering on how different men and women were. Jack was Todd’s friend, and yet he was asking her for an update. At one point during their friendship she and Becca had been in touch almost daily, exchanging small details of their lives, sharing feelings and revealing emotions. When Becca had injured her knee and been told she’d never dance again, it was Clare she’d emailed at three in the morning and it was Becca Clare had emailed when Aiden had been born prematurely and had breathing problems. From small irritations to major life heartaches, there had been virtually nothing about their lives that they hadn’t shared.
If someone had asked her at any point how Becca was doing, Clare would have known and yet here was Todd asking her about Jack.
Was it that her relationship with Becca had been particularly close, or was it that male friendship was different? Male friendships tended to be anchored by activities rather than emotions. Todd, who had made several friends since they’d moved from London, contacted them to arrange sailing or hiking. They talked about wind direction or routes and bonded over an appreciation of the locally brewed beer.
Jack and Todd behaved like long-lost friends each summer, although their interaction bore no resemblance to the relationship Clare had with friends. They teased each other, exchanged good-natured insults, and generally kept everything light.
Maybe that type of friendship was less complicated.
Todd finished his toast. “You’re the one who makes all the arrangements. Jack and I just come along and enjoy ourselves. What did the email say? Are they coming to see us?”
“Yes.” And Clare didn’t know what to make of it. She’d read the email with a sick feeling in her stomach and so many emotions she couldn’t begin to untangle them. She started to type a reply and then stopped because her hands were shaking on the keys and she kept making mistakes. Feelings she’d worked hard to suppress had erupted past the barriers she’d put in place. She felt grief for Jack and pity for herself for having the bad fortune to find herself in this situation. She felt angry with Becca, and then guilty for feeling angry with someone who was dead.
Her fingers had finally stopped shaking but still she hadn’t responded because she didn’t know what to say. She loved Jack. She loved the children. But seeing them again would be hard. It would stoke all those feelings she’d worked hard to control. Grief. Anger. Guilt. Indecision. Oh yes, indecision. She’d burned the letter but the memory of its contents couldn’t be so easily destroyed.
“That’s great. The more the merrier. Jack and I can get some sailing and hiking in. The kids will love it.” Todd glanced at his watch. “I have to get going. I have a site visit on the other side of the valley and you know what the traffic is like at the moment.”
She did. It was another reason to be grateful she worked from home. Jack had converted one of the downstairs rooms into a study for her. The bay windows offered views across the gardens to the lake and often she found herself spending more time staring at the water than she did her computer screen.
Only as he was about to leave did she blurt out the information she’d been keeping to herself. “Jack’s bringing someone with him.”
Todd grabbed his coat from the back of the door. “I hope he’s bringing Izzy and Molly.”
“Yes, but this is someone as well as Izzy and Molly. Her name is Flora.”
Todd lifted his eyebrows. “A friend of the girls?”
“I rather got the impression,” Clare said slowly, “that she’s a friend of Jack’s.” And she felt conflicted. Her feelings were already complicated. It seemed unfair of Jack to introduce yet another complication into the mix. Their two families meshed so well, and now he was bringing a stranger.
For all her faults, Becca had been her best friend. Clare had loved her. And now she was expected to welcome her replacement. She’d have to smile and make conversation. Laugh, even though her heart was breaking and all she really wanted was to see Becca living happily with Jack.
“That’s great news.” Todd picked up his car keys. “I’m happy for Jack.”
He accepted the prospect of their visit with his usual enthusiasm. The more the merrier. He was an extrovert who was never happier than when he was in the middle of a social gathering. If Todd hadn’t been so gregarious, Clare probably never would have met him. He was the one who’d struck up conversation and asked her on a date. He’d chiseled his way past her shyness to find the person inside. And she loved that he made that side of life easy for her. With Todd, there were never embarrassing silences or awkward moments. He could talk about anything with anyone. He and Jack had hit it off right from the start, and Todd was obviously looking forward to seeing him again.
There were no undercurrents. No complications.
Clare envied him. She and Becca had always told each other everything, which had felt good until “everything” had included details Clare wished she didn’t know.
Her exasperation was tinged with envy. “Don’t you think it’s a bit soon? Is it a little insensitive, perhaps?”
“What is there to be sensit
ive about?”
Me, Clare thought. She and Becca had been the link that had brought the two families together. “Becca.”
“Becca’s no longer here, and I’m sure she would have wanted him to be happy, don’t you?”
Clare wasn’t sure of that. Becca had usually placed her own needs and happiness above everyone else’s, including Jack’s and the children’s.
Whether at work or at play, Becca had been the center of attention, which was why Clare wasn’t sure she would have approved of Jack moving on so fast. Most of the time Clare had made excuses for her friend. Becca’s past had molded her into the person she was. But was that an explanation or an excuse? For how long was an adult permitted to use a difficult childhood as a free pass for all undesirable thoughts and actions? Deep down Clare wasn’t sure if Becca’s behavior was driven by a survival instinct or downright selfishness.
It’s every man for himself, Clare. How do you think I’ve got where I am?
Clare finished her toast. “It’s been almost a year.”
“And? How long does a guy need to suffer before society stops judging him? I bet it was the longest year of his life. Grim. Or is there some time frame to grief that I don’t know about?” His voice gentled. “I understand that it’s hard for you but this wasn’t just about Becca. Jack’s our friend, too, Clare, and has been for more than two decades. He was best man at our wedding. It’s never been just about Becca. We owe him our support.”
“I know. And he has it, of course.” She decided he was right. This was about Jack, now, it had to be.
“Then what’s the problem?” A note of impatience. Todd, who found every social situation easy. Todd, the problem solver. Lower the floor, add skylights, whatever the challenge, he had a solution and he was always sure of it.
Clare had been drawn to him for many reasons, but the biggest had been his certainty. His confidence in his place in the world.
“It will feel strange to see him with someone else.”
“He’s still the same Jack. It’s like remodeling an old house. The bones stay the same even if the outward features are different.” He opened the door. “You don’t even know it’s serious.”