by Grace Palmer
So, he had known it was Liza who needed the help. Benjamin wasn’t some gallant knight, swooping in to rescue just any damsel in distress. He knew Liza was downstairs, and he’d intercepted Georgia to insert himself into the mix.
What benefit he hoped to get out of the arrangement, Liza didn’t know. It wasn’t her house. Whatever the repairs cost would be coming out of Mrs. Albertson’s budget.
Georgia gave Liza a nervous look, and Liza smiled as casually as she could.
“Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Mistake.
Liza had made a grade-A, top-notch, code red mistake.
To be fair, she hadn’t been in a car with Benjamin Boyd in over two decades, so she’d forgotten how much more potent his allure could be in close quarters.
He smelled spicy and warm like mulled wine and cedar chips and lemon wedges, and Liza had the sudden urge to stick her head out the window like a dog.
Thankfully, the drive to the beach house was short, and aside from asking Liza a few questions about the extent of the leak, Benjamin didn’t try to make conversation. Liza didn’t know what they’d talk about if he did.
Long time no see. What have you been up to the last twenty-five years?
With horror, Liza realized she couldn’t talk about the last twenty-five years. Because if she did, she’d have to tell Ben she was now divorced.
She didn’t want him to think, for even a second, that her life had turned out any differently because of him and what he’d done. She didn’t want him to wonder if her divorce was because she couldn’t love Cliff the way she’d loved Ben, or if he had somehow factored into her decision to not have children.
Of course, at the same time, Liza was desperate to know if Ben’s life had been any different since their uncoupling.
Did he get married? Have kids? Had his life been happy?
“Were the rest of your clothes ruined when the pipes burst?” Ben closed the door and looked at her over the top of the rental car, his mouth twisted into a knot—his failed attempt at hiding his amusement at her damp flannel pajama bottoms.
He’d teased her all the time while they were dating. At the beginning, he’d been all smoldering eyes and kind words, but as they got to know one another, Benjamin liked to get under her skin.
“You look adorable when you’re annoyed with me,” he used to say.
“Then I must look adorable all the time,” she’d quip back.
Liza sighed, doing her best not to look annoyed, though she felt it immensely.
“No, I just didn’t see a point in changing my clothes just to change back into pajamas at the inn. Like I said, I wasn’t there to secure the help of a plumber. I was there to go to sleep.”
“Well, it’s your lucky day, then.” He turned towards the house. “I’m going to assume you’ve been downplaying the situation, and I’m about to walk into a tsunami. Is that true?”
“No, of course not. Why would I—”
“Liza,” he said, lowering his chin and raising his brows. “Give it to me straight.”
Liza wanted to lie, but there was no sense in it. He’d know she was lying the moment he walked into the house. It was just that Liza didn’t want Ben to know anything about her. They hadn’t seen each other in decades, so he shouldn’t know she had a tendency to downplay situations to keep other people calm. He shouldn’t know that she hated asking for help, so she’d lie and say things were fine even as they were falling apart.
She mumbled something, and Ben held a hand to his ear. “What was that?”
“Yes!” she barked. “It’s a tsunami inside.”
He chuckled as he walked towards the porch, which was worse than anything he could have said. It sparked something inside of Liza that had been dormant for a long time.
She gripped her keys in her hand and stomped after him, brushing past him to get to the front door so she could unlock it. She had to fight back a shiver, both from the cold on her wet legs and Ben’s presence.
“I lied because I didn’t want you to help,” she said between gritted teeth. “I lied because I went to the inn for a place to sleep, not to find an ex-boyfriend to drive me home and come fix all of my problems. I can probably fix it myself, in fact. I barely even tried.”
“That’s good, because that would have been a very specific request. I can’t imagine you have many ex-boyfriends wandering around in this small town. Or, maybe I’m wrong,” Ben said with an easy shrug. “I suppose I don’t know what you’ve been up to the last twenty-five years. Maybe this isn’t your first time in Willow Beach.”
Liza got the door unlocked and spun around to gape at Ben’s forwardness, but before she could, he walked into the house and flipped on the lights.
Liza was still ready to rant at him, her blood pressure dangerously high, but Ben cursed under his breath and splashed down the hallway and away from her anger.
The water shut-off valve was in the garage, somewhere Liza never would have thought to look. Ben shut it off and then directed Liza to start turning on faucets and flushing toilets.
“That seems counterproductive.”
“We have to drain the pipes,” he said. “It’s better the water comes out into the sink than through the hole in your bathroom wall.”
Liza had been too distracted by the gushing water to realize there was a hole in the wall. A large one.
More and more, it seemed coming to Willow Beach had been a mistake. Sure, she’d discovered a love of the ocean. But Liza had also reunited with a man she’d hoped to never see again and had to trek all over town in dirty, soggy pajama pants because of a leak.
None of this would have happened in her apartment in Boston.
Liza would have called the twenty-four hour maintenance staff and had someone sent up right away to take care of the problem. She would have stayed dry and far, far away from wherever it was in the world Benjamin Boyd called home.
The sinks were all finally empty when Ben jogged outside and returned wheeling a wet/dry vacuum across the living room.
“Do you always keep one of those in your car?”
“I grabbed it from the maintenance closet at the inn before we left. I thought we might need it, knowing your penchant for downplaying tragedy.” He plugged it in and winked at her as he began vacuuming up the water.
Liza shouldn’t be mad at him. It was after one in the morning, and Ben was here, stopping leaks and cleaning up. By all accounts, it was a nice thing to do, and Liza should be thanking him. But she couldn’t.
Ben dumped the vacuum outside several times before most of the water was gone from the hallway. When he came back in the fourth time, he left the vacuum outside. “I think that’s as much as the vacuum can do, but I’d say it’s a good start.”
“Not bad,” Liza said, crossing her arms and studying the hallway with laser focus. Anything to keep from looking at him.
“I know you weren’t asking for my help, but I hope I’ve helped you out a bit.” He was fishing, and Liza knew it. She resisted.
“Yep, you have.”
“This might have taken you all night if not for me,” he continued.
She turned away and rolled her eyes. “Actually, it would have taken me all morning. I’d be asleep right now if it weren’t for you.”
“And the cottage would be underwater.”
Liza bit her lip. How did Ben still know how to get under her skin? It wasn’t fair.
He chuckled. “It’s okay. I know asking for help isn’t one of your strengths, of which there are many, by the way. I’m glad to see you followed your dreams and started your own business.”
The topic change came on suddenly, and Liza couldn’t help but turn towards him in an attempt to find her bearings. Was he still teasing her or was his compliment genuine?
Mistake.
There was a sheen of sweat across Ben’s forehead and color in his cheeks that only added to his natural appeal. In his hurry to come help her, he’d left the inn wearing a pair of gray jogg
er sweatpants and a thermal long-sleeved shirt that clung to his body. Time had peppered his hair with gray and creased his face, but he was still broad and muscled.
Liza jerked her eyes up to his face and met his confident, yet sincere smile. His green eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Thanks,” Liza mumbled, finally able to say the word, but only in regard to her business. Because she was proud of the company she’d created and the job she’d made for herself. She could thank someone for recognizing her success, no matter who they were.
“Really,” Ben continued, his brow becoming pensive. “You always talked about wanting to do more and make your own future, and you did it. That’s amazing. After we parted ways, I wondered what happened to you. I looked you up a few times and—”
“Can we not?”
Liza felt like her chest was being squeezed in a vise, like she couldn’t expand her lungs far enough to take in air.
Seeing Ben was one thing, but talking about their past? Their relationship? No way. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to. The book had closed on that chapter of her life, and she was all about forward progress. No looking back.
His mouth opened and closed, unsure. “I’m sorry. I just—”
“I’m glad you’re doing well,” Liza said, despite having no basis for whether Ben was doing well or not. He looked well, and she hoped that was enough of an indicator of how he was doing in other areas of his life. At the very least, she could tell he had enough to eat, enough time to work out, and enough money to pay for regular haircuts and dental appointments. So, he was probably doing fairly well.
“I really am,” she continued. “But I don’t want to talk to you. We can see each other at your sister’s wedding, and then I think it would be best if our paths didn’t cross again.”
Obvious hurt crossed Ben’s face, but Liza couldn’t focus on that. She had to do what was right for her, and she and Angela had both agreed—mostly Angela, in truth, but Liza was coming around to the idea, as well—that she needed to focus on her future.
Ben was, inarguably and decidedly, in her past.
After a long pause, Ben nodded and tipped his head towards the door. “I suppose I should go.”
Liza nodded and crossed her arms, giving him a tight smile.
She shut the door as soon as he walked through it, and she stood by the door until she heard the car start and saw the headlights flood through the windows of the cottage and then fade away.
Only then did she relax and begin to take stock of the damage in the cottage, avoiding thoughts of Ben all the while.
9
Liza called Jack first thing in the morning. She quickly discovered that Georgia was right; the man was surly.
But since he fixed the pipes and allowed Liza to take a shower for the first time in thirty-six hours, Liza decided he could be as surly as he wanted.
Mrs. Albertson had a stash of money set aside for just such an emergency, so Liza paid Jack with that money and then took a long, hot shower.
There was still a hole in the bathroom wall courtesy of who-knows how many months and years of a steady leak behind the wallpaper, and water stains in the hallway. But the bulk of the problem was fixed, and Liza felt like she’d done her duty as a house sitter to the best of her abilities.
Still, the preceding days had been a whirlwind of excitement and nostalgia, both good and bad. Liza felt drained. She considered going into town for lunch, but worried about running into Ben again, so she opted for pizza delivery instead.
“Pizza and boxed wine. Living the dream,” she mumbled, raising her mason jar in a solo toast before digging into her meal.
Afterwards, she slipped out of her shoes and went for another walk on the beach.
The weather seemed to be getting colder by the day, and the sand felt like sharp pinpricks in the soles of her feet, but that didn’t do anything to lessen the relief she felt to be standing out in the open and hearing the rush of the waves. Suddenly, Liza could understand why people enjoyed meditating.
“We meet again.”
Liza started at the voice, but relaxed as soon as she turned and saw Stella waving. She had an easel set up in front of her, and was nestled back in a beach chair, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“Still working on your moonscape? But the moon isn’t even out yet.”
“I know, but I like painting on the beach when I can. Just hearing the ocean helps me paint better, I think.” Stella tilted her head to the side and studied her painting with a frown. “Painting water is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s all about finding the light and the dark and figuring out how to shape it, and I haven’t quite mastered it yet.”
“Wow.” Liza sat down in the sand and wrapped her arms around her knees. “That’s kind of poetic.”
“It is, isn’t it? I didn’t mean it to be, but it sounds like something a therapist would say.” Stella laughed. “Art is my therapy, I suppose.”
“Cooking is mine. Though, I haven’t been doing it as much lately.”
“But you’re a caterer.” Stella raised a brow, confused.
“I do it for work, sure,” Liza said. “But I used to cook for myself. I’d try new recipes and bake interesting things. I liked to explore and play. Now, I just do it for the paycheck. I still like it, but it doesn’t bring me the same passion.”
“I totally understand that. I stopped painting for years. Many years.” Stella shook her head and sighed. “I got so wrapped up in the ‘important’ things in life that I forgot what was really important. I forgot to take care of myself. To do things I loved simply because I loved them.”
Liza wrapped her arms more tightly around her legs, feeling vulnerable in a way she hadn’t in a long time. Even though Stella wasn’t talking about her directly, Liza felt like her shell had been cracked open.
“Why did you start painting again?”
“This town,” Stella said. “The people in it. And, mostly, because of Georgia.” She laughed. “That woman has a way of knowing what’s best for you even if you don’t know it for yourself. She’s a good one.”
“I can tell. She invited me to the book club after knowing me for less than five minutes. Not many people would do that.”
“She has a gift.” Stella dabbed the tip of her brush in some paint and painted the crest of a wave. On the palette, the color looked gray. Liza thought Stella was about to make a mistake adding it to her pristine canvas. But as soon as she swiped it over the waves she’d already painted, the color popped against the dark blues of the ocean. It seemed to shine with the white light of the moon.
“Speaking of which…” Stella lowered her brush and turned to Liza. Her mouth was twisted in a nervous knot to one side. “I saw Georgia today, and she mentioned you had a plumbing issue last night.”
Liza quickly relayed what it was like walking down the hallway to the bathroom and stepping in a puddle, and Stella laughed. Then, she turned more serious.
“Georgia also mentioned one of the guests at the inn offered to help you with the problem. A very handsome guest. A guest you seemed to have some sort of…history with?” Stella seemed uncomfortable with her prying all at once and held up her hands, palms out. “It isn’t any of my business, of course. She just said she noticed a little something between the two of you, and she has a sixth sense about those types of things.”
Liza could hear her heart beating in her ears, but she didn’t know why. Stella wasn’t asking anything intensely personal. It was a simple question with a simple answer: We used to date. Yet, Liza couldn’t give it. Just as she hadn’t wanted to discuss their history with Dora on the phone or with Ben himself, Liza didn’t want to discuss it with anyone. Not in a house or with a mouse or on a train or in the rain.
“We knew each other a long time ago, but I’m working to focus on my future. That’s why I came to Willow Beach, after all,” Liza said. “To forget the past and focus on the future. That’s the best thing I can do for myself.”
“Maybe a bit, but it was fine. He kept the house from flooding, so I can’t be upset with her.”
The two women fell into an easy silence. Stella painted delicate details on her painting that initially seemed redundant and unnecessary, but after a few minutes, the painting had taken on a whole new level of realism. Liza could see why Stella was the artist and she wasn’t.
After a few minutes, Stella sighed and turned to Liza. “I never intended to end up in Willow Beach. I didn’t even plan to visit here.”
“How did you end up here, then?”
“My car broke down and Sam came to tow me to his shop.” She smiled at the memory. “I had big plans to go to Boston, actually. I wanted to figure out what my future held and find my passion again, and Willow Beach didn’t factor into my plans at all. But now, it’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m happier here than I’ve ever been and not a single one of my plans panned out.”
“That’s amazing.”
“It is,” Stella agreed. “I told you your life is none of my business, and I meant that. We hardly know one another, so take all of my advice with a grain of salt. But take it from someone who always likes to be in control: you can’t control destiny. No matter your plans, what is meant to be will be, and you’re better off not fighting it.”
“Ben isn’t my destiny.” Liza felt immediately guilty for snapping, but she couldn’t help it. At one time, she’d thought he was. It had taken her years to get that idea out of her head, and she wasn’t going to allow it back in now.
“I didn’t meant to imply that he is. I’m sorry if I’m overstepping. It’s just…I’m a helper. I like to help people, and I don’t always know when to stop.”
“I’m sorry for snapping,” Liza said. “Sensitive subject, I suppose.”