by Mona Ingram
“No, Sir. Wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
The nurse appeared again, startling Blaine.
“May I bring you some tea, Mr. Bennett? It won’t take a minute.”
“No thanks.” It startled Blaine to hear his father say thank you to the help, but he hid his surprise. “My son and I are going to have a brandy.”
“But Mr. Bennett...”
He waved away her protestations. “Brandy if you please, Brenda. And two glasses.” His eyes glinted as though he’d won a huge battle. “You enjoy a brandy, don’t you Son?”
Blaine hated brandy. “Yes, Sir.”
The woman went to the sideboard, poured two generous snifters and placed one near Ham’s good hand. “There you go, Sir.”
“Hmmmph.” It would have to do as thanks. He’d already said the words once today.
Blaine’s father took a sip of brandy and closed his eyes. “Good,” he said, as a small amount dribbled down his chin. He brushed it away impatiently then turned back to Blaine.
“I was sorry to hear about your wife.” The words were marginally slower than normal, but distinct. Blaine got the impression that his father had worked hard at his speech therapy.
“Thank you, Sir. How did you hear?”
“Your mother.” He raised the glass again. “She keeps me up to date on what you’re doing.”
Blaine nodded. “I was sorry to miss her this time, but she had that trip planned for a long time. She comes out to Victoria once a year though.” He smiled at the memory. “I keep trying to talk her into moving out there, but she likes it here.”
His father’s gaze went to a framed photograph of his mother on the desk. “I was angry when she asked for a divorce. Should have fought it harder, but I was too proud. That bimbo I married didn’t stick around after the stroke, but that’s no loss.”
Stunned by the admission, Blaine said nothing. His father continued. “Your mother warned me to slow down. Said I’d have a stroke and it looks like she was right.”
“I wish she’d told me.”
Ham Bennett chucked. “We had quite a disagreement about that, but I eventually won.” He looked up. “I didn’t want you to see me like this, but I’m glad you came. I get a little better every week, and the doctors tell me that with continued therapy, I’ll be walking by Christmas.”
It was then that Blaine realized his father was in a wheelchair.
“I believe you’ll do it, Sir.” He met his gaze straight on. “At least your mind seems as sharp as ever.”
“I like to think so, but I’ve handed over most of the daily responsibilities to my second-in-command. He’s a good young man.” He cocked his head. “Don’t need a job, do you?”
Blaine laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed in his father’s presence, and it felt good. “You never give up, do you? No, Dad, I’m happy doing what I do.”
A tear ran down his father’s face. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you call me Dad?”
Tears also shimmered in Blaine’s eyes, blurring the image of his father across the desk. “About as long as I’ve waited to have a conversation with you where we didn’t fight.” He glanced at the brandy. “I hate brandy, but I suspect you asked for it so I could pour it into your glass.” He stood up and his father nodded. “The nurse is right. You shouldn’t be drinking, but then you already know that.” He poured. “Enjoy.”
“Damned nurse,” muttered his father, taking a generous swallow. “But she takes care of me, I’ll say that for her.”
It was dark when Blaine left later that night. For the first couple of hours he and his father had engaged in some verbal fencing, but eventually they relaxed and started to enjoy each other’s company. Blaine had been interested to hear of the many facets of running a shipping company, and in turn Ham had peppered Blaine with questions about running a successful tattoo studio. They tip-toed around difficult subjects, but by the end of the evening, they agreed that Ham would come to Victoria as soon as he was able to walk.
“I’ll be damned if I go on an airplane in a wheelchair,” Ham said as he wheeled his chair to the front door. “This will be an incentive for me.” He smiled up at Blaine. “Good night Son, and have a good trip home tomorrow.”
Blaine gave him an awkward hug. “Good night, Dad. See you soon.”
Chapter Eighteen
“I WISH I COULD SAY I approve of this.” Jackie studied her granddaughter. “I know it’s been three weeks, but you’re still thin.”
Ariana had rarely seen her grandmother this flustered, and she spoke soothingly. “It’s only a few hours away, and I made a reservation so you’ll know where to find me if necessary.” She sat down next to her grandmother and took both of her hands. “I need this, Gran. Please don’t worry. I’ll call you every day.”
“What about Jeremy? He’s still your husband, even though you’ve started the paperwork for the divorce.”
Ariana pulled back. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t. You know that. But what if he asks me where to find you?”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, but if he does ask, then you call me and I’ll call him back.” She waved a phone. “I’m turning off my phone, but I’ve purchased a temporary phone. Only you and Jodi have the number.”
“Tell me again why that’s necessary?”
“I just don’t want any distractions. If you knew how many calls and texts I get each day....”
“All right, I understand.” Jackie paused. “And Jodi knows where you’re going as well, right?”
“Yes, but she’s promised not to tell anyone.” She kissed her grandmother on the cheek. “I’m leaving early in the morning, so I’ll say goodnight now. Take care of yourself while I’m gone, okay?”
“All right.” Jackie still looked distracted. “I just want you to be happy, my dear.” She watched Ariana’s taillights disappear down the driveway. “And whatever you’re looking for, I hope you find it.”
BLAINE CHECKED HIS watch for the fifth time in as many minutes as the aircraft made its final approach into Victoria. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t agreed to let one of his employees pick him up at the airport. Danny was a talented artist, but he loved to talk; Blaine simply wanted to think about what he was going to say when he called Ariana. The sun glinted off the ocean as they came in over Sidney Spit and touched down. Home again.
BLAINE SPOTTED DANNY on the other side of the barrier and nodded, acknowledging his presence. Unable to wait any longer, he pulled out his phone and called Ariana.
“What the...” He stared at the display. “Her phone is turned off,” he muttered to himself. “I don’t want to leave a voicemail.” The day that had started out with so much promise had turned sour; he grabbed his bag and tried not to scowl at Danny.
“Good trip?” Danny had to hurry to keep up with Blaine’s impatient strides.
“Yeah, fine.” He slanted a sideways glance at his employee. “No messages for me, huh?”
“No, Boss.” They arrived at Danny’s SUV and Blaine tossed his bag in the back. “Where shall I drop you?”
Blaine hadn’t planned anything beyond contacting Ariana. “The studio, please. And thanks for coming to get me.” He turned and stared out the window. What had prompted Ariana to turn off her phone? Was she sick? He was quite sure Jodi would have told him, although he couldn’t be positive. It was unlike him to second guess his decisions, but maybe he shouldn’t have waited until he got home to contact her. But he’d wanted to look into those beautiful grey eyes when he told her...
“Change in plans,” he said as they headed down Wharf Street. “Let me out here, please.”
Danny hid his surprise well. “Okay. I’ll leave your suitcase at the studio.”
Blaine hadn’t stopped to consider that Jodi might not even be at work... although she practically lived at New Beginnings. He pulled open the door and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her behind the counter.<
br />
Something flickered in Jodi’s eyes when she spotted him, but he didn’t have time to figure it out. He waved his cell phone as though it were her fault he couldn’t reach Ariana.
“Is she okay?” he said without preamble.
Jodi studied the man across from her. He was even more appealing with that desperate look on his face, but she decided to go easy on him. “She’s fine,” she said. “A bit thin, maybe, but that’s to be expected.”
The relief on his face was instantaneous and for a moment she thought he was going to slump against the counter. “Thank God,” he said, pulling himself together. “Can you tell me where to find her?”
“I’m afraid not.” Jodi’s expression was unreadable.
“Do you at least know where she is?”
“Yes, and she’s safe.” Jodi’s gaze wandered around the studio as though she were trying to make up her mind about something. “She’s not in Victoria, Blaine. She needed to get away for a while.”
Blaine’s stomach plummeted. “Is he with her?”
The look on Jodi’s face gave him the answer before she spoke. “No. Jeremy isn’t with her, and he doesn’t know where she is, either.”
A small victory. But he needed to try once more. “Will you tell me, Jodi? Please. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll call her if you think that’s best, but what I really want is to see her, face to face. I guess I told you that once before.”
“I understand, Blaine, and if it were up to me, I’d tell you, but I promised.”
He held up both hands in defeat. “Okay. I respect that.” He turned slowly. “If you change your mind, I keep my cell with me all the time.”
Jodi nodded. “Welcome back, Blaine.”
BLAINE DROVE THE FEW blocks to Dallas Road, hoping that ‘her’ bench wouldn’t be occupied. He knew why she went there; it was the perfect place to think. He parked and jogged across the lawn. Beyond the empty bench, the Strait of Juan de Fuca reflected the lowering sun, beaten copper in the late afternoon light. He sat down, stretched out his legs and draped both arms over the back of the bench.
Was he losing his sanity? For a month now, he’d thought of nothing but Ariana. Some might even say he was obsessed with her. All he knew was that unlikely as it seemed, he was in love with her. But how could he be in love with someone he’d only met once? Things like this only happened in romance novels, and even then, not frequently.
He closed his eyes and envisioned the way she’d looked that day. If he tried, he could remember every word they’d exchanged. Every look, every touch... he’d better not go there, or he’d embarrass himself.
He’d told her things he’d never told anyone else except Erin. Like the time his grandfather had taken him to the tattoo parlour. Interesting that he’d had such a close relationship with his grandfather, especially when it seemed that Ariana had the same with her grandmother.
He sat up abruptly. Her grandmother! Of course. Now if he could only remember her name. Lowering his head, he relived that part of the conversation. Jacqueline Beaumont, that was the name. He pulled out his cell phone and searched for her number, expecting it to be unlisted. But there it was. His heart started to pound.
“HELLO.”
“Good evening. May I please speak to Jacqueline Beaumont?”
“Who may I say is calling?”
“Blaine Bennett.”
“One moment please, Mr. Bennett.”
Blaine swallowed an unusual bout of nervousness.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Beaumont?”
“Yes.”
Blaine turned toward the security cameras. If she was watching, he wanted to make sure she saw him. “My name is Blaine Bennett and I’m in love with your granddaughter.”
There was a pause so brief he might have imagined it.
“Is that you in the black Range Rover outside my gate?”
Blaine couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Then I guess you’d better come in.” The gate swung slowly open.
DUSK HAD FALLEN BY the time Blaine drove through the gates and up the winding driveway. Backlit by a small chandelier in the foyer, Jacqueline Beaumont stood in the open doorway, studying him as he exited his vehicle.
Piercing grey eyes, much like Ariana’s, watched him approach. Fine white hair was brushed straight back, a stark contrast to rich purple lounging pajamas. Diamond stud earrings twinkled at her ears, her only jewelry except for a wedding band. Blaine liked her on sight.
Mrs. Beaumont extended her hand. “I was wondering when I’d get to meet you,” she said with a faint smile.
Blaine tried not to let his surprise show. “Has Ariana spoken of me?”
“No, young man, but I knew there must be someone.” She held his hand for a moment longer. “I suppose you should call me Jackie.”
“Thank you Mrs. Beau... er, Jackie.”
“Come,” she said, leading him into the house. “Let’s have our drinks in the conservatory.”
Jackie settled into a large chair, one leg curled beneath her. She indicated that he should sit and he chose a chair close to her and angled it so he could look directly into her eyes.
He didn’t know where to start.
“I’ve been to see Jodi,” he said tentatively, “and she says that Ariana is recovering well from the operation.”
“Yes, although I think she’s too thin.” Jackie studied him openly, her gaze lingering momentarily on what could be seen of his tattoo. “How do you know Ariana?”
Blaine hadn’t considered how it must have sounded to this woman when he announced that he loved her granddaughter. Did she think that he and Ariana had been having an affair?
“This is going to sound odd,” he said. “But Ariana and I have only met once.”
Something shifted behind those grey eyes. “Go on.”
“Actually,” he said, “I should back up. The first couple of times I saw her, I didn’t even talk to her. She was sitting on a park bench up on Dallas Road.” He sat back and observed her reaction. “Now that I’m telling you this, I realize how unlikely it sounds, but believe me, it was...”
A woman entered the conservatory and Jackie held up a hand. “Excuse me for interrupting, but would you care for something to drink? I usually have a martini at this time of the day.”
Blaine checked his watch. “I’d love a beer. I just arrived from Toronto, so it’s been a long day.”
“A martini and a beer please Maisie.” Jackie spoke to the housekeeper then returned her attention to Blaine. “I have a lot of questions for you, young man, but let’s get back to how you know my granddaughter.”
Blaine’s eyes took on a faraway look. “Do you believe in love at first sight, Mrs. Beaumont?”
Something flashed in the depths of her eyes and she nodded. “I do. I fell in love with my Nathan the moment I laid eyes on him. My father threatened to lock me up, but I eventually convinced him that I was serious, and we were married several months later.” She gave her head a quick shake. “But we were talking about you.”
“I’d been jogging,” he said, picking up the narrative. “And there she was, hunched over on that park bench.” He paused for a moment. “I had the strongest desire to protect her from whoever or whatever had made her sad. I had to physically hold myself back from going to that bench and picking her up in my arms.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I guess I’m sounding like a bit of a nutcase, but that’s the way it was. I felt like I knew her from somewhere, but I couldn’t figure out why. Later on I saw her picture on the side of a bus and I recognized her right away as the woman I couldn’t forget.” He looked up and accepted his beer, then continued.
“Then a few days later, I was in my studio and the receptionist asked me if I’d consult with a customer. I looked up and there she was. I’d been thinking about her constantly, and in that moment it was as if all of my dreams had come true.”
“Your studio.” Jackie took a sip of her martini the
n set the glass down carefully. “What do you do?”
“I’m a tattoo artist,” he said, rolling the beer bottle between his palms. “I own a studio down on Wharf Street, near Jodi’s place.”
A frown wrinkled Jackie’s brow. “She came to consult about a tattoo? I would have thought she had other things on her mind.”
“It was to do with her mastectomy.” Jackie winced at the word, but Blaine carried on. “After reconstructive surgery, many women have their breasts tattooed to more closely resemble what was there before. I’ve made it a bit of a specialty.”
“I didn’t know they did that.” Jackie lifted her glass and took a thoughtful sip. “So you’ve agreed to tattoo her when she’s healed.”
“Not exactly.” Blaine edged forward. “She was about to tell me what she wanted but then I think the enormity of what she was about to undergo hit her. She apologized for wasting my time and then ran out of the studio.” For a moment he was silent, a faint smile on his lips. “I followed her of course, and found her in the coffee shop just down the street. She had a good cry and then we had coffee. We talked about the simple things people talk about when they’re getting to know one another. I told her about my grandfather and she told me about you. Then I asked her why she’d come to the studio and she told me.” He allowed his gaze to drift outside while he gathered his thoughts. “It was a complete shock. I can’t imagine how I must have looked to her, but she took one look at the expression on my face and muttered something about her husband having the same reaction. I didn’t get a chance to explain.”
Jackie raised one elegant eyebrow in question.
“My wife died a little more than two years ago. I had started to date a woman a few days before; the first one in all that time. Talk about bad timing... she came into the coffee shop at that moment. Ariana took one look at her and left. Then I had to leave for Toronto the next morning on business.” He looked up. “Amber isn’t in my life anymore.”