An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach) Page 31

  “Maybe someday.”

  “Someday for sure,” he’d said right before he’d kissed her goodbye. “You and me, Nat. Someday . . .”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  MAGGIE

  Letting go of the anger Maggie’d held on to for so many years felt like dropping a hundred-pound weight she’d been carrying on her back. Relieved of the burden that had caused her nothing but sorrow, she was free to open her heart completely not only to Joe, but to Brett. It had shocked her to learn he’d suffered, too, and while she wished with all her heart he’d opened up to her sooner, she had no regrets in the way her life had turned out. She’d always believed things turned out the way they were meant to.

  On the Monday after her lunch with Brett, Maggie walked into town and stopped at Ground Me for coffee and doughnuts, then made her way across the street to the police station.

  “Hey, Maggie. Nice to see you again.” From her post, Coraline checked out the carrier holding two cups of coffee and the bag with Ground Me on the front. “And so soon.”

  “Good morning. Is Chief Crawford in?” Maggie ignored Coraline’s scrutiny.

  “He’s in his office. I’ll let him know you’re here.” Coraline buzzed him, relayed the message, then hung up. She pointed toward the hall. “You know the way.”

  “I do. Thanks.”

  Maggie tapped on Brett’s open door with the back of the hand holding the bag.

  “Hey, Maggie. This is a surprise.” He stood and walked around the desk. “Is that coffee . . . ?”

  “Yes, and a doughnut. Glazed. You used to like those, so I thought . . .” She handed him the bag.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was a peace offering.” He moved a stack of files from one of the visitors’ chairs and gestured for her to sit.

  “I needed an excuse to come and see you.” She sat and took the top off her coffee to have something to do with her hands.

  “You never need an excuse, but I’m glad you’re here.” He opened the bag and smiled. “No one in town does a better glazed doughnut than the guy they have working in the back at Ground Me.”

  “I met Joe. We had lunch on Thursday,” she said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “How’d it go?”

  “Great. He’s . . . well, you met him. I don’t need to tell you what he’s like.” She sipped her coffee.

  “I’m so happy it went well for you, and that you saw what I saw in him.” For a moment, his hand holding the doughnut paused in midair. “Meeting him made me wonder what if . . .”

  “No.” She waved a hand at him. “We’re not going there. Not today, not ever. He is who he is because of the people who raised him, and we’re going to accept that and not speculate or talk about anything different, hear me?”

  Brett nodded. “I hear you, and you’re right. We should focus on who he is, not . . . well, not anything else.”

  “I really like him. I can’t wait to see him again.”

  “I feel the same way.” Apparently sensing it might be time to change the subject, Brett said, “So Liddy’s buying the bookstore from Fred. It’s about time. Poor Carl really had his hands full, trying to run the hardware store and keep track of his father at the same time.”

  They talked for a few more minutes, but then Brett got a call, reminding them both he had a job to do. Maggie left after he picked up the phone, and waved goodbye from the doorway.

  On Wednesday, she brought coffee to the office again, and on Friday, she picked up lunch for them to share at his desk. Maggie was beginning to look forward to spending a half hour or so with Brett every few days, and it appeared he did as well. They were more relaxed and friendly with each other than she ever expected they could be, and she enjoyed his company. More than ever, she knew she’d done the right thing in moving back to Wyndham Beach. It had been an emotional decision, the first step in shrugging off the mantle of sorrow she’d worn for much of her life, beginning with the death of her sister, continuing with the loss of her baby, her parents’ divorce, the continued grief for her son, the eventual breakup with Brett, and the death of her mother, and ending with Art’s passing. So many times during his illness, Art had urged her to seek happiness after he passed, to not spend the rest of her life in mourning. At the time, she hadn’t believed her future held much joy, but there’d been more laughter than tears as that heavy mantle began to slip from her shoulders. She’d made her peace with Art when she’d sold their home and made the decision to move on with her life. Now, with every day that passed, life seemed brighter, the future more hopeful, than she’d ever imagined possible. She was beginning to believe something wonderful was waiting for her, if she’d only reach for it. If she only believed.

  On Saturday morning, Maggie walked up Cottage Street following her run. Sweat ran down her face, and she swore even her eyelashes were sweating. She was wiping her face with the bottom of her T-shirt when she heard a car pull up next to her.

  It would be him, she inwardly groaned after she glanced over her shoulder and saw the blue-and-white police car stopped at the curb.

  “This is a new look for you,” Brett said as he got out from behind the wheel.

  “Nice of you to notice.” She pulled her shirt back down and tried to pull up her ponytail.

  “Hard not to. I haven’t seen you sweat like that since you were on the track team back in high school.”

  “I’ll have you know I’m in training for a marathon,” she told him.

  “Do tell.” Looking faintly amused, he leaned back against the passenger-side panel.

  “It’s been on my bucket list. And after talking to Dee Olson at the reunion luncheon, I was inspired. Do you know she runs marathons?”

  “I do. She runs the Boston Marathon every year. She’s quite the accomplished runner.”

  “Well, she told me she’d help me get started if I was serious about it. I thought I’d run a few miles every day before I called her. You know, build up to it.” She rested her hands on her hips. “It would be really embarrassing to go out with her and pass out after the first quarter mile.”

  “Yeah, I can see where that’d be a problem.” He rubbed his chin to hide a grin.

  “So have you talked to Joe this week?” she asked.

  “Yeah, this morning. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He took off his sunglasses, their eyes locked, and inside her head she heard that old familiar buzz. “We were thinking about dinner tomorrow night. You, me, Joe.” He studied her face for a long moment before putting his glasses back on. “What do you think? You ready for that?”

  “I . . . yes. Yes. I’d love that,” she heard herself say, pushing away all thoughts of it being too soon or feeling too much like a family dinner.

  “I thought maybe Crossen’s, out on the Cape.”

  “I haven’t been, but I heard it’s really good. Sure.”

  “So I can tell him you’re in?”

  “I’m in. Yes. Definitely in.”

  “Great.” Brett nodded and pushed away from the side of the car. “So how ’bout I pick you up around six?”

  “Oh. Sure. Good.” Maggie nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’ll see you then.” He walked around the front of the car to the driver’s side and opened the door. He stood for a moment, and Maggie had the feeling he wanted to say something more, but all he said was, “Bye.”

  She raised one hand in a sort of half wave, then when the car pulled away from the curb, she resumed walking toward her house, already second-guessing her decision. Would it feel strange, the three of them together? Lunch with Joe had been fine, and Brett’s dinner with him apparently had gone well. And her visits the past week and a half with Brett had gone really well. But was it too soon to have the three of them together?

  Would it feel strained to Joe? To her? One minute she thought it was a great idea, the next, the worst ever.

  Her biggest fear? That it would feel too much like what might have been.

  The drive to the Cape wasn’
t as awkward as it could have been. Brett may have sensed her unease, or maybe he felt a lick of anxiety himself. He kept the conversation light, ignoring the elephant in the room, for which Maggie was grateful. She didn’t want to talk about how she felt, and she didn’t want to know his feelings about what they were about to do. Instead, he entertained her with stories about dumb criminals and dogs, like the guy who burglarized a house, was attacked and chased by the homeowner’s dog, then called the police to report the dog bite. Or the guy who kidnapped a pricey best-in-show-winning pug and left a ransom note written on the back of an envelope that had his full name and address on the front. By the time they reached their destination, laughter had helped Maggie relax enough that she could shake off her worries.

  Joe had waited inside at a table overlooking the water, with a spectacular view of the sunset over the dunes. He’d risen when Maggie and Brett approached the table, offering Maggie a hug and extending both hands to shake Brett’s. After making their drink selections—beer for Brett and Joe, wine for Maggie—the conversation easily drifted from one topic to another.

  “Jamey had a swim meet this afternoon,” Joe told them after Maggie asked what his kids were doing for the summer. “He said he wanted a job to start saving for law school, but I reminded him there was time for that and he should concentrate on being a twelve-year-old.”

  “Right. Don’t want him growing up too fast, or to push him into something he doesn’t want to do,” Brett commented.

  “You played football from the time you were what, seven?” Joe asked, and Brett nodded. “Did you ever feel pushed?”

  Brett hesitated. “Maybe a little. My dad played when he was in high school and was good enough to get a scholarship for college, but he wrecked his knee his freshman year, so there went the scholarship, and there went college. So he had really high expectations of me.”

  “Which you fulfilled in spades,” Maggie reminded him. “And I don’t remember you wanting to do anything else. You loved playing.”

  “You’re right.” Brett turned to her. “I did. I don’t regret a minute of it up until the time I got hurt. There was nothing else I wanted to do.”

  “How did you feel about that? About not being able to play anymore?” Joe asked, something Maggie herself had wanted to ask. She’d been there through his entire journey, except for the end.

  “It sucked.” Brett shrugged. “And I can’t say I handled it very well. But in time I came to accept the fact my playing days had come to an end.”

  The rest of the evening passed smoothly, with Joe discussing his work as an engineer and the part he played in the design and construction of several major industrial projects in New England, and Maggie talking about her daughters and their lives. He was particularly interested in meeting Natalie, he said, since they’d corresponded.

  “She’s dying to meet you,” Maggie told him. “Grace, on the other hand, is having a bit of a problem with this. She wishes . . .” Maggie swallowed hard. This was no time for anything short of total honesty. “She feels I wasn’t honest with her father—which, admittedly, I was not.”

  “I understand,” Joe said. “I hope she comes around.”

  “So do I,” Maggie said. “Which reminds me. I’m having a cookout for the Fourth of July, which is a big deal in Wyndham Beach. Parade, followed by games for the kids at the town park. This year there’ll be carousel rides as well, and we top off the day with fireworks.”

  “Which are always spectacular,” Brett told him.

  “So I was wondering if you would like to come and bring Jamey and Lulu, and spend the day with us.” She turned to Brett. “You’re invited, too, of course. I meant to ask you earlier.”

  “I’ll be working most of the day,” Brett told her, “so I won’t be free until after the fireworks.”

  “You have to eat sometime. Come over when you’re done.”

  “It’s a date,” Brett told her.

  She felt a little flush rise up her neck to her cheeks. Had she intended the invitation to feel like a date? Up until that moment, she hadn’t thought it through.

  “It sounds like a great day. I’d love to come, and I think the kids will, too. Thank you for including us.” Joe paused. “But are you sure you want to open that can of worms after, well, after keeping me a secret for forty years? Are you sure you want to go public in front of the entire town now?”

  Maggie nodded slowly. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed about you. You are my son.” She felt the tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “I waited a very long time to be able to say that out loud. At this stage of my life, I’m not afraid of what people will think or what they’ll say.”

  Joe reached for her hand. “Thank you.”

  “I’m with Maggie,” Brett said. “Besides, anyone looking at you would know whose son you are. No point in denying paternity.”

  “Well, yeah, the resemblance is tough to ignore.” Joe pointed to his hair. “The cowlick would give it away if nothing else.”

  After coffee and dessert, they walked out to the marina behind the restaurant, making small talk while they watched a few boats being moored, taking their time, trying to delay saying goodbye.

  Finally, Brett glanced at his watch. “I need to call it a night. I have an early meeting in the morning.”

  “Well, I’ll see you both soon. Fourth of July. It’s a definite yes.” Joe embraced Maggie and placed a kiss on her cheek, and the warmth filled her with hope for the future.

  “It went well, don’t you think?” she asked Brett on the way home. “I was afraid it would feel awkward.”

  “It felt . . . normal. Like three people who like each other getting together for dinner. It just felt normal.”

  She sighed and rested against the headrest. Maybe not parents out for dinner with their adult son, but yeah, like three people who like each other getting together for dinner. Exactly like that. It had felt normal, and normal was more than she could have asked for.

  “I really do appreciate the invitation for the Fourth,” Brett said. “Are you sure you want to include me? I mean, what will your daughters think?”

  “Grace could be horrified. Natalie will think it’s about time.”

  Brett laughed. “And what do you think?”

  “I think maybe it’s about time, too.” Maggie paused before asking, “You?”

  “Past time.” He reached across the console for her hand. “Think there’s any chance we might ever . . .”

  “Don’t push your luck,” she said good-naturedly. “Let’s just see how it goes.”

  “It’s your call,” he told her. “I’m just grateful you didn’t say no.”

  She held his hand for a few minutes, then dislodged her fingers and reached for the radio “On” button.

  “Do you mind?” she asked.

  “Not at all. There’s a seventies station and an eighties station. Which would you prefer?”

  She thought about it. “Surprise me.”

  He hit a button, and music surrounded them.

  Ambrosia. “Biggest Part of Me.”

  Maggie groaned, and Brett laughed.

  “I could pull over to the side of the road, and we could dance,” Brett said, a twinkle in his eye.

  Maggie laughed in spite of herself. One thing she’d always loved about Brett was his sense of humor. Good to know that hadn’t changed.

  Maggie walked around the Tudor-style bookstore’s spacious backyard, taking note of existing plantings and where sun and shadow fell.

  “I think we could move some of my iris back here once you get that boxwood hedge trimmed. It’s really out of control. It forms a nice barrier between the alleyway on the left and the parking lot for the ice-cream shop on the right, so I wouldn’t take it out unless you wanted to install fencing. Which is an expense you probably don’t need right now.”

  “No, I don’t need to add anything else. If I could afford it, I’d hire a landscaper to do the hedge, maybe trim back that crab apple tree, plant some f
lowers, put in a patio, but none of that can happen for a while. Buying the store pretty much cleaned me out,” Liddy admitted. “I had to put the renovations to the carriage house on hold until I get caught up.”

  “Why’d Carl decide to sell the building along with the store? I thought he only wanted to sell the business?”

  “I don’t know. I guess holding on to it, collecting rent, sounded like a good idea for a while. But when we sat down to negotiate, I think he figured he might as well unload the whole thing, and I’m glad he did. I love this building, and once it’s fixed up, it’s going to be great. Fred lost a lot of business to online retailers and the bigger chains because the place was so shabby, no one other than locals bothered to come in. To tell you the truth, even I hadn’t realized what a mess this place was, because I was here so often.”

  Maggie nodded. “The familiar often goes unnoticed. After a while, we don’t see the flaws.”

  “Exactly. And as far as his stock was concerned—let’s face it, Fred’s orders weren’t always up to date. Sometimes bestsellers were a month or more late, and his displays were haphazard. And he never advertised. With just a little effort, he could have pulled in more customers from the academy and visiting parents. The school has a lot of big weekends he could have capitalized on, but judging from his sales history, he never took advantage of the influx of out-of-towners.”

  “Good point. I hadn’t thought of that. The school brings a lot of people into town, so maybe you should plan events around their schedule. The sailing school in the summer could bring in more sales, too.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping. Then there’s the space on the second and third floors. I think I could get zoning approval for apartments.”

  “Did you ever see yourself as a shop owner slash bookseller slash landlady?” Maggie teased. She knelt to push aside dead leaves from what might have been a flower bed, but nothing of interest grew under the debris.

  “No. But this town needs a bookstore, and I needed something positive to do with my life. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed right, so I figured, why not? It’s a nice reminder all life’s surprises aren’t necessarily bad ones.”