Seaside Romance

“I thought all those beacons were automated these days,” his guest commented as they joined the line.

“Not the Last Chance Lighthouse,” he informed her. “Mavis would strap herself to the tower if we tried to change anything out there.”

“Let me guess. It got its name because it’s the last chance a boat has to change course before it crashes on the rocks.”

Grinning, he pointed at her. “You got it.”

“There seems to be a story for everything in this town. It’s interesting.”

That was a nice way of putting it, he thought. Growing up, he’d enjoyed living in his quirky hometown, with its salty character and down-to-earth people. Now that he was getting older and still right where he’d started, the age-old traditions were starting to wear on him. Nothing ever changed here, and he knew the villagers inside and out. Maybe that was why Lauren had snared his attention so quickly. Tired of the same old, same old, he was dying to experience something new.

That was it, he decided, relieved to discover the reason for his fascination with her. She was pleasant company, but nothing more than that.

When they arrived at the counter, Georgia Bynes greeted them with a bright, grandmotherly smile. “There’s our favorite fix-it man. And you must be Lauren.” She reached across the counter to shake hands. “We’ve heard so much about you. It’s wonderful to finally meet you in person. Carolina—” she called out “—Julia’s friend is here!”

A slightly younger version of Georgia bustled through the swinging doors, wiping her hands on her flour-dusted apron before echoing her sister’s greeting. “Good to see you both. Your trays are ready, so I’ll just go get them.”

“Don’t bother,” Ben said, strolling over to the antique cooler that occupied half of the back wall. “I got ’em.”

While Lauren signed the delivery receipt, he slid the three trays free and closed the door with his boot. When she appeared behind him with her hands out, he was confused. “What?”

“I can carry at least one.”

“They’re all balanced and everything. If you just get the door, I’ll be fine.” She didn’t respond, but she didn’t drop her hands, either. After a brief standoff, he relented and let her take the top tray from him. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not always.” Chuckling, he backed into the entry door to open it for her. “Guess it depends on the situation.”

She slanted him a curious look. “What kind of situation makes it bad?”

“Like if you insisted on going into a burning building to save your clothes, I’d have to stop you.”

That got him a derisive snort. “Do I look like a moron?”

“Not a bit,” he assured her, and was surprised to find he meant it. Normally, he took his time sizing up new people, but this enigmatic woman with the tentative smile had impressed him from the moment he met her. It wasn’t just her looks, either. Gorgeous as she was, he sensed there was a lot going on behind those forget-me-not eyes. Not all of it good, either. “I was just giving you an example of when being stubborn is bad. Which you asked me for, by the way.”

“Fair enough.” A few moments later, she said, “For the record, I’d only go into a burning building to save people or puppies.”

“How ’bout kittens?” he teased, getting a laugh for his trouble.

“Okay, anything breathing. Does that cover it for you?”

“Sure.”

Their trip back to Toyland went a lot quicker than the walk out, and he was sorry to see it end. Now that she’d opened up a little, he wished he could have a few more minutes to talk to her. Then again, he cautioned himself as they offloaded their goodies, that could only lead to trouble. He wasn’t a superficial guy, but experience had taught him to be extremely cautious about relationships. Getting too attached set you up for a lot of heartache when things didn’t work out. It was safer to keep some distance in case things went south.

Because, from what he’d seen so far, they always did. It was just a question of how long it took and how much it hurt when you hit bottom.

Chapter Two

The cookies were no problem, but Lauren quickly realized the sandwich platter would never fit in the small fridge Julia kept in her office for cold drinks.

“Come on.” Angling her helper toward the door marked Private, she headed up to Julia’s apartment. “We’ll put them in the kitchen upstairs.”

When she was about halfway up, a high-brow English accent called out, “Brevity is the soul of wit!”

Giggling, she looked back at Ben. “You probably know Shakespeare.”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied with a chuckle. “The Bard and me, we go way back. I thought Julia was just bird-sitting, though. Is she keeping him for good?”

“His owner, Liam, will be at the wedding,” Lauren explained as they continued up. “He’s an interpreter, and his last assignment will be over then. After that, they’re on their way back to Wales.”

When they reached the top, a huge blue-and-yellow macaw nodded at them with what struck Lauren as a regal bow. “Greetings, fair maiden.” Eyeing Ben, he skidded to the side of his perch and adopted a more modern pose. “Wassup, dude?”

Ben laughed, and she shook her head at him. “You taught him that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. You can only take so much classic literature.”

“Between that and the kids teaching him nursery rhymes, it’ll take Liam months to retrain him.”

“Who knows,” Ben said as they went into the galley kitchen at the back of Julia’s apartment. “Maybe he’ll appreciate some variety.”

“I’d imagine he’ll be glad to be home for a while,” she said while she opened the fridge and moved things around to make room for the platter. “He’s been going from one post to another for most of the last year.”

“Kinda cool, being able to travel around like that,” Ben commented with more than a hint of envy. “You get sick of one place, you just pack up and check out somewhere else.”

Lauren had done that, leaving a quiet Philadelphia neighborhood for the sparkling Big Apple she’d always longed to explore. In the end, she’d discovered it wasn’t where you were that mattered. It was who you were with. “It’s not as fun as it sounds. If you’re not with the right person, you could be living in a castle, and it’s still awful.”

As he handed over the sandwiches, Ben frowned. “You sound like someone who has some personal experience with castles.”

And princes, Lauren added silently. The problem was, the ones she kissed kept turning into frogs, instead of the other way around. She used to believe there was someone for everyone, but lately she couldn’t help wondering if that philosophy needed some fine-tuning. “Let’s just say I’ve done my time in the tower and I’m not in a hurry to go back.”

Her attempt at humor had the effect she was after, and he grinned. “Rapunzel. Ever since she saw the movie, my niece Allie is crazy about that story. She always says if that was her, she’d never have let them put her up there in the first place.”

“Good for her,” Lauren approved. “I wish I’d thought of that.”

He gave her an encouraging smile. “We all make mistakes, Lauren. It’s what we do afterward that really counts.”

The simple wisdom in his words touched her deeply. In the brief time she’d known him, she’d gotten more warmth and understanding from him than she had in a year with Jeremy. If only she’d known more guys like Ben, she might have caught on to Jeremy’s scheme in time to save herself a lot of heartache.

Shoving the past into the back of her mind for now, she closed the fridge and smiled up at Ben. “Thanks for your help. I should get back down there to help Julia set up for the party.”

He cocked his head like he’d just heard something unusual. “You don’t sound thrilled with that.”

“Well,” she hedged then decided she might as well come clean. “I’m not used to kids, so I’m not sure what to expect.”

“You’ll do fine,” he assured her with a confidence she wished she could tap into. “Kids love making Easter eggs and eating snacks, so there’s not much for you to do except make sure they don’t dye their friend’s hair purple or something.”

“You almost make it sound like fun,” she said as they went back through the apartment.

“It is if you let it be. Like most things, if you let it feel like a chore, then it’s no fun at all.” Pausing beside Julia’s enormous dollhouse, he made a face. “Like this beast. Nick wanted it to be a Christmas Eve surprise, so he shanghaied me to put it together and bring it up here while Julia was gone. Not my favorite kinda job, but since it was for her, I went along.”

“She absolutely adores it,” Lauren told him sincerely. “It was really nice of you to help out.”

“Well, I couldn’t leave Nick to do it himself. He doesn’t know a screwdriver from an impact wrench.”

Neither did Lauren, but she kept that to herself as they went back downstairs. Closing the door behind them, she looked up into those bright blue eyes as they crinkled in a smile. For her, she realized. He was trying to build up her confidence, to drive away some of the uncertainty that had dogged her every step since leaving New York. Who did that for a stranger? she wondered. She’d given him no encouragement whatsoever, and yet he’d still been so kind to her, she couldn’t help wanting to spend more time with him.

Bad idea. Very, very bad.

“Thanks for the advice about the kids,” she said politely. “Have a good day.”

“You, too, princess.”

With that, he sent Julia a quick wave and headed for the door. Lauren tried not to stare after him, really she did. But she couldn’t help herself, and was mortified to realize she was still watching him when Julia glided up next to her and bumped her shoulder.

“Earth to Lauren.”

“Hmm?” Her old friend laughed, and Lauren realized she’d been set up by a pro. Glaring over, she asked, “What were you thinking, tossing us together that way?”

“That you need to meet a nice guy who would treat you the way you deserve.” Nodding at the view outside the front window, she added, “I think Ben fits the bill nicely, don’t you?”

She wanted to deny it, but that would be transparently stupid, so she shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Oh, come on! There’s not a single woman within a hundred miles who wouldn’t kill for the kind of attention you’ve gotten from him today.”

“I’m sure,” Lauren replied primly. “He looks like the cheerleader type.”

“You were a cheerleader,” Julia pointed out, blue eyes twinkling merrily. “I think you two look fabulous together, but there’s more to it than that. He’s a real sweetheart, and you could use some of that in your life. You don’t have to marry him or anything. I was just hoping you two might hit it off and enjoy spending some time together while you’re here.”

“But when you get back from your honeymoon, I’m leaving,” Lauren reminded her.

Julia responded with a cryptic smile. “We’ll see. I came for a two-week vacation and realized this is where I was meant to be. Maybe you’ll do the same.”

“I’m not sure where I belong, but it’s certainly not here.”

“We’ll see,” her friend repeated, going to the door when the bells above it announced the first of their egg-coloring guests.

Lauren was a little baffled by her debate with Julia, but one thing was certain. She had no intention of getting attached to this tiny fishing village or the very appealing Ben Thomas. She’d left behind the life she’d once been convinced she wanted, and she simply didn’t have the heart to open herself up for any more disappointment.

As she crossed into the crafts section of Toyland, she saw there were about ten kids of various ages scattered around while a handful of parents clustered near the coffee and Danishes Julia had set up for them. The boss was her usual brilliant self, chatting up parents and kids with equal enthusiasm. At a loss for what to do, Lauren took a few minutes to assess the situation before jumping in.

To her surprise, a little girl in a pink T-shirt and denim capris approached her. Giving Lauren a quick once-over, she offered up an adorable gap-toothed grin. “You look like you need a friend.”

If this had been an adult, the forthright manner would have startled Lauren. Since she towered over her greeter, though, it was just cute. Hunkering down, she offered her hand. “You can never have too many friends. My name’s Lauren.”

With a firm shake, the girl said, “I’m Hannah Martin. Julia’s going to be my aunt soon.”

Julia gushed about the Martin family, so Lauren felt as if she knew them already. “I hear you’re going to be the flower girl at their wedding. Are you excited?”

“Very. It’s an important job, and I have to do it right. Mommy and Julia took me shopping in Portland to buy me a special dress and fancy white shoes. They’re beautiful,” she added with a dreamy sigh.

Lauren smiled as her memory flipped back to her own childhood, playing princesses with her sisters. What little girl didn’t like dressing up for make-believe? “Are you carrying a basket or a bouquet?”

“Both,” Hannah informed her proudly. “I have to toss rose petals out of the basket, but I get to hold on to my flowers. I’m gonna keep them for-ever.”

“Forever, huh? How long is that?”

Hannah squinted her eyes, scrunching her nose in concentration. “Well, I’m five now, but some people live to be a hundred. Maybe when I’m in kindergarten I can figure it out.”

“No doubt,” Lauren agreed with a laugh. “When you do, let me know.”

“Okay.”

Another girl at the front door squealed her name, and Hannah skipped off to meet her. When Julia had first suggested she help out at Toyland, Lauren hadn’t been sure about the idea. It wasn’t that she disliked children, she mused while she circled the table arranging chairs and supplies for Easter eggs and the coloring contest. She just didn’t have any experience with anything other than rocking her infant nephew.

Apparently, Hannah noticed her apprehension and went out of her way to make Lauren feel welcome. Their lighthearted exchange was a success, and she was warming up to the idea of working here, at least for a while. Hopefully, this was the beginning of good things to come.

“All right, everyone!” Julia announced. “Welcome to Toyland’s very first Easter Egg-stravaganza.”

The parents laughed, but most of the kids looked blankly at each other. Hannah caught on first, and she burst out laughing. “I get it—eggs. That’s funny.”

Julia rewarded her with a bright smile and a slight bow. “We’ve got eggs to color and an art contest to judge. Are you ready to get started?”

They all cheered, and Lauren wisely stepped back while they raced toward the paper-covered tables.

After that, the day flew by in a blur of boiled eggs, crayons, trips to the bathroom and tons of cookies. By her estimate, the kids ranged in age from three to nine, and their artistic ability varied widely. Some preferred pastels, others left their eggs in the dye to take on rich, jewel tones.

Crouching down beside one very intent boy later that afternoon, Lauren caught his name from the tag on his shirt. “How’s it going, Adam?”

“Fine.” Shoving wire-rimmed glasses up on his pug nose, he dipped his egg into a fresh color. “Black is all the colors mixed together, so I’m trying to make a black egg.”

Lauren was stunned by the scientific spin to what she’d always considered a childish task. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

He nodded earnestly. “It was on the science show yesterday. I thought it was cool.”

“So do I.” Smiling, she stood to move around the table. “Let me know how it turns out.”

“Will do.”

He sounded so grown-up, she had to ask, “How old are you?”

“Seven, but Mom says I’m going on thirty. I’m not sure why, but that’s what she says.”

Glancing back, Lauren noticed one of the moms watching them with curiosity. Grinning at her, Lauren said, “Moms are pretty smart, so she must be right.”

The woman responded with an approving smile of her own, and Adam nodded. “She usually is. Except when it comes to broccoli. I really hate broccoli.”

Lauren laughed for about the tenth time in an hour, and it felt amazing. Her life had lurched down a dark, somber road, and it was wonderful to feel some of the clouds lifting from over her head.

No doubt about it—this was the best day she’d had in a long, long time.

* * *

Tuesday morning, Ben stood at the kitchen counter wolfing down a bowl of cereal. He had a packed schedule of jobs today, and he checked the microwave clock to see it was almost seven. Slurping down the last of his milk, he quickly rinsed his dishes and put them in the dishwasher. His coffee wasn’t quite done dripping, but he interrupted the cycle and grabbed the stainless-steel travel mug on his way out the door.

Outside, he jumped in his truck and headed to the other side of town. When he pulled in at his father’s place, it was quiet as a tomb. It was time to be up getting ready for work, so he interpreted the lack of movement as a bad sign. Ben used his key to let himself in, bracing himself for what he knew he’d find.

Sprawled out on the living room sofa, his father was sound asleep, cradling an old wedding picture in his arms. Empty whiskey bottles were toppled on the coffee table, where Ben found a very official-looking gray envelope and duplicate sets of legal papers stapled into covers. A quick glance showed him they were final divorce papers, and a flash of anger shot through him.

Mom had been gone nearly a year now, but he still couldn’t understand how thirty-five years of marriage ended up printed out in triplicate and neatly bound for filing. It was enough to make even the most optimistic soul doubt the possibility of happily ever after.

His stomach turned at the realization that his disconnected family would never be whole again. He could only imagine what yesterday’s mail delivery had done to his brokenhearted father. How could his own wife hurt him this way? Like any family, they had their problems, but Ben couldn’t recall anything truly awful. When had things gotten so bad that his mother had decided her only option was to run away?

He’d asked himself those questions a million times. Since he was no closer to an answer now than before, he focused on what he could do something about. Tucking the papers in their envelope, he shoved them in a nearby drawer to get them out of sight. Then he cleared a spot on the table and sat facing his father.

“Dad?” When he got no response, he repeated it a little louder. There was a shudder, followed by a general ripple of movement. “Dad, it’s Ben. Wake up.”

Squinting against the weak sunlight, he focused bleary eyes on Ben. “Morning.”

It was a start. The lecture he’d been set to give went straight out of his head, and he went with sympathy. “I see you had a bad night. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I—” He seemed to realize he was still holding the picture, and he set it on the table before pulling himself into a sitting position. “I wanted some time alone.”

“With your old friends.” Ben nodded at the collection of empties and was pleased to see his father grimace.

“I bought ’em in Oakbridge and came straight back here. I passed half a dozen bars on my way, but I didn’t stop. I was sober when I was driving, and that’s the truth.”

The vow got Ben’s attention, and he changed tracks. “I believe you, but this has been going on long enough, and I’m thinking maybe it’s time you talk to someone about it. You’re not doing so well on your own.”

He chewed on that for a minute then frowned. “You’re probably right, but shrinks cost money I don’t have.”

“Pastor McHenry is real easy to talk to. You could go see him.” When that got him nowhere, Ben made one more desperate attempt. “You’ve always enjoyed going to church, but you haven’t been there since Christmas Eve. Why don’t we go together on Sunday? I’ll even take you to brunch at the Albatross afterward.”

“I’ll think about it.” Standing, he added, “Meantime, I’ll go get ready for work.”

He was more than a little unsteady, and Ben almost told him to take the day off. The trouble was, he feared that with nothing to occupy his time, Dad would stare at that old picture and drink himself back into oblivion.

So, despite his misgivings, he got to his feet and forced optimism into his tone. “Sounds good. I’ll see you at the lighthouse.”

“Yes, you will.” The fog lifted from his eyes, and he gave Ben the bright, genuine smile he hadn’t seen in far too long. “I haven’t been much of a father lately, but I’m real proud of you, how responsible you are. You know that, don’t you?”

Ben’s heart swelled with pride, and he swallowed around the lump that had unexpectedly appeared in his throat. This was his father, the honest small-town boy who’d married his high school sweetheart and built a business with equal parts sweat and integrity. He’d been stumbling a lot lately, but with some help, Ben believed he could recover. “Yeah, Dad. I know.”

“Good.” Patting Ben’s arm, he shuffled back through the hallway that led to the bathroom.

Taking a few moments to get his emotions back under wraps, Ben dialed the lighthouse’s number. Mavis wasn’t as spry as she used to be, so he waited patiently for her to answer. “If you’re gonna be late, I don’t wanna hear it. I got four buckets overflowing in my sitting room.”

“Just wanted to let you know we’re running a little late this morning. I’ll come out and prep and Dad’ll join up with me later.”

“That don’t sound good.” Suddenly, the gruffness was gone, and in a gentler tone she said, “I saw him yesterday afternoon, and he looked like he got run over by a backhoe. Is he all right?”

Out of respect for his father’s dignity, Ben hesitated. Then again, Mavis had been a close friend of the Thomases for more than forty years. If anyone would understand what was going on, it would be her. “More or less. The divorce papers came from Mom’s lawyer yesterday, and he didn’t take it well.”

“That poor man,” she clucked in sympathy. “Are you sure he should be working?”

“I think it’s the best thing for him. I’ll give him some easy stuff to do to keep him busy, and anything tricky I’ll handle myself. You have my word your ceiling will be good as new when we’re done.”

“Never doubted that. I’ll have the coffee ready when you get here.”

With that, she hung up, and he shut off his phone. He could hear the shower running, so he figured it was okay for him to go. On his way out, he made a detour to take care of whatever had started smelling up the house since he was here last. He grabbed a large bag from under the sink and did a quick circuit of the living room and kitchen, dropping in things that should have been tossed out a while ago.

He was officially behind schedule, but he took a couple of minutes to get the coffeemaker going. Taking out a loaf of bread and the butter, he left them next to the toaster as a not-so-subtle reminder for Dad to have something to eat before leaving. A glance around showed him he hadn’t missed anything, and he left the trash in the outside bin on his way back to his truck. Any psychiatrist worth their salt would probably tell him he was making a huge mistake, cleaning up after a grown man who was perfectly capable of doing it himself.

The problem was, Ben couldn’t bring himself to leave things the way he’d found them. It was too depressing.

* * *

Early-morning sunshine woke Lauren the following day even before her alarm went off. After a long, fun day, she’d conked out around eight-thirty and hadn’t moved until just now. Julia’s guest room was in the front of the apartment, with a wide window that looked east, out toward the harbor. When she got up to take a peek outside, she saw the glass was a little frosty, but the sun was rapidly turning Jack Frost’s work into streams of water that glinted as they trickled down the window.

Edging the window open, she clearly heard some very optimistic birds in the trees out front, and noticed two that kept flying back and forth to the eaves under the sloping roof. Farther afield, she registered the sounds of people starting their days in the shops along Main Street. One voice called out a cheerful greeting and was met with a grumpier response as a truck started up and drove away.