Just Married! Page 8

  She could feel change on the wind, ever since Amanda’s wedding she could feel it. Only she didn’t feel quite as frightened of it as she had a few short days ago.

  In fact, she was aware her stomach didn’t knot up at the news somebody had looked at the building, for the first time since it had been put up for sale.

  “Amanda, Ethan asked me to spend a few days in Boston with him.”

  Amanda’s delight was as short-lived as her own had been. “Don’t tell your brothers,” she said with a shudder. “Mitch will kill him.”

  “Thanks,” Sam said dryly. And as tempting as it was not to tell Mitch, she had never lived her life like that and she wasn’t starting now.

  She picked up the phone. Despite her attempt at bravery, reminding herself that she was the one who made the first plunge into the ocean every year, Sam felt her stomach turn sideways when he answered.

  “Mitch, I have to talk to you.”

  “Talk away, little sister.”

  But her stomach swooped again, making what she had felt about people looking at the building feel like a small upset.

  “In person would be better.”

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice rough with concern.

  “Yes. I’ll come over for coffee in the morning. See you then.” Her hand was shaking when she hung up the phone.

  And she still felt like she was shaking when he opened the door in the morning, pulled her into a crushing bear hug. Then he set her back at arm’s length and frowned.

  “You’re all dressed up. Are you wearing makeup? What’s going on? Are you going on a job interview? Did your building sell? I heard there were people looking at it.”

  That was a small town for you. It was only by the grace of God he hadn’t heard about her taking Ethan sailing.

  “Mitch, you can wear makeup for things other than going on a job interview!”

  “It’s a little early in the day for a wedding.” And then his scowl deepened. “Uh-oh. A man.”

  She shoved by him and went into his messy kitchen, back to a typical bachelor pad now that she no longer lived there. She kept her back to him and poured a cup of coffee.

  She took a sip, took a deep breath and turned back to him. “I’m nearly twenty-five years old, Mitch. Would a man be such a bad thing?”

  “You’re not going out with any guy I haven’t vetted first, little girl!” His face was like thunder. He was unconsciously flexing and unflexing his huge arm muscle.

  “Mitch,” she said, “I’m not a little girl anymore.” And just by saying those words, she felt the

  power and the truth in them and suddenly she felt courageous and not afraid. It allowed her to see the fear in his protectiveness, and she felt tender for him, even though she knew it was time for her to move out of the shadow of his protection.

  “I’ve met a really nice guy,” she said, “and I’m going to go to Boston with him for a few days.”

  “Over my dead body!” he thundered.

  “Mitch,” she said softly. “I’m lonely. I want what Mom and Dad had. It’s time for all of us to move past the pain of them dying, of Karina leaving us when we needed her most. It’s time to start living again.”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, more quietly. “That’s all.”

  “I know that, Mitch. But you know what? I feel alive, fully alive for the first time in a long, long time. I feel as if I’m coming into myself, becoming the person I was always meant to be. I want to feel this way, even if it means taking a chance. And I want you to know this is the last time I’m coming to you about my personal life. I don’t need your permission to live it as I see fit. My life is mine, not yours.”

  “You’re firing me as your brother,” Mitch said, astounded.

  “No. I’m firing you as my parent, and asking you to be my brother.”

  He was silent for a long time, and then he gave his head a mighty shake and opened his arms.

  “Come here, little girl. I knew when I saw you all dolled up for the wedding it was only going to be a matter of time. I just wasn’t expecting it to be quite this fast.”

  And she went into his arms, and let him hold her, and then she pulled away.

  “Are you going to tell me who the guy is?” he asked as she headed for the door, feeling lighter than air.

  “No.”

  “Ah, hell, do you think I’m just a dumb lobsterman? You tell Ethan Ballard if he hurts you, I’m gonna break both his legs. He doesn’t need them since he gave up baseball, anyway.”

  And then, just when she wondered if he had heard a word she said, he softened the threat by winking at her.

  Boston was exhilarating. They took the ferry, that ran only from June until September, from Provincetown Harbor to Boston. Once there, Ethan put her up in a harbor view room at the Boston Harbor Hotel. Located at the super-posh Rowes Wharf, the exquisite five-star accommodations overlooked the magnificent waterfront.

  Then they became tourists in his town. Sam had been to Boston many times before, but had never enjoyed it so much as seeing it through his eyes. They went to antique stores and quaint little bistros. They strolled in parks and explored galleries and museums.

  They even went on the famous ride-the-duck tour, part sightseeing excursion, part carnival ride. Old World War II DUKW amphibious vehicles charged into waterways and lumbered down streets to some of Boston’s favorite must-sees. The “conducktors” had wonderful names like Major Tom Foolery and Commander Swampscott. Each vehicle had a name—theirs was Beantown Betty—and Sam couldn’t remember when she had last found an experience so fun and refreshing.

  Then there were quieter activities: a sublime dining experience at No. 9 Park, and a romantic one at Mistral.

  She took advantage of the wonderful shopping available in Boston, not to scout out items for Groom to Grow as she normally would have done, but to upgrade her wardrobe yet again. She was delighting in the kind of clothes that appealed to her, subtly sexy and feminine, and she was delighting in feeling free to buy whatever she liked, not once imagining Mitch or Jake or Bryce rolling their eyes at her choices.

  But Sam did have a moment when she wondered if she was getting in over her head. Ethan brought her to his place for a quick drink and change of clothes before he took her out for dinner. He owned a Back Bay house. It had started as one of his renovation projects, he explained to her, but the old house and the gas-lit neighborhood, located on a reclaimed seabed, had won his heart.

  The house was incredible, the exterior and neighborhood reminiscent of nineteenth-century London, the interior modern, masculine and sleek.

  For a few minutes, alone while he changed, she felt acutely their social differences: she was a lobsterman’s daughter. But as soon as he came back in the room, and grinned that now familiar grin at her, she felt the difference evaporate. He was just Ethan, not a multimillion dollar businessman.

  On her last night there, he sprung it on her that they were having dinner with his parents at their Beacon Hill residence.

  “That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner,” Ethan said when she started fretting about what to wear and how to act. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I’ve got your back.”

  It turned out he was right. Once she got past being intimidated by the enormous wealth of John Ballard and his heiress wife she found his parents were engaging and good-humored. She’d expected stuffy and found them the furthest thing from it. She was particularly taken with his father, who came across as crusty at first, but whose love and concern for his son reminded her so much of the love and concern of her brothers.

  On the surface maybe it would be hard to imagine two worlds further apart, the world of merchant banking and the world of lobster fishing, but Sam could see the common denominator of all people.

  Love of family. Wanting a place to belong. Wanting to be liked and respected for who you were and not what you had or did.

  When she said good-night to the Ballards, Ethan’s father took
her hands in both of his, looked her deep in the eye and smiled before kissing her on her cheek.

  He dropped her hands and looked at his son. “I like her,” he said loudly. “She’s a keeper.”

  And that was the other thing you could count on family for: they were always around to embarrass you with their love!

  That night, after Ethan had gone home, she hugged herself and looked out her hotel room over the sparkling lights reflecting in Boston Harbor. There was no doubt in her that she was falling in love, and she could easily see why it was called falling. It was exhilarating, like swan-diving off a high cliff, blasting downhill on a roller coaster, launching into the water in Beantown Betty.

  Samantha felt as if she had finally become a privileged member of a secret club. The club that knew why so many songs and stories, paintings and poems were inspired by this feeling. Alive, on fire, joy-filled.

  She said out loud, “My life is perfect. More perfect than I could have ever imagined it. Even in my wildest dreams.”

  And she really should have known better. Saying something like that, even thinking it, was like tossing down a challenge to the gods.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AT THE last minute, Ethan had business to deal with and couldn’t drive her home. He asked her to stay an extra few days, but Sam said no. She knew people had to continue functioning, difficult as that was when you were floating, when your life had become a love song, when you couldn’t stop thinking of that other person’s eyes. And mouth. The curve of his smile. The hard line of his muscled arm. The sound of his voice, like a gentle touch on the hairs on the back of your neck.

  Still this was the longest she had ever been away from St. John’s Cove and her business.

  Not to mention her brothers and her friends. How were Amanda and Charlie doing? She suddenly felt guilty that she had escaped so completely that she hadn’t even thought to call Amanda, that she had not once looked for stock for her store.

  She wanted to take the bus back, but Ethan didn’t like it, and insisted on renting her a car. After a drive home that seemed so boring alone, she turned in the car at St. John’s Cove, and was given a ride home by Matthew Bellinger, the town’s oldest bachelor. He told her, shyly, that he was taking Mable Saunders for tea the following day.

  Love is in the air, Sam thought happily.

  Ethan had insisted she call as soon as she got home so he knew she’d arrived safely, and Sam was so intent on that—and on hearing his voice again, how could she already miss him so completely—that at first she walked right by the sign that swung in front of her store, eager to share her happiness with Amanda who was just closing up inside.

  But the bright red sticker grabbed her peripheral vision and she backtracked and stared with disbelief.

  The happiness escaped from her with a nearly audible hiss, like air from a pricked balloon.

  Sold.

  How could that be? How could her life have changed so completely when she had just glanced away for a moment? But isn’t that what happened when you let go of control? It was taken from you.

  A boat due that never came home. If she had only noticed they were overdue sooner, taken control…

  A familiar stomachache, a sensation Sam had not felt for days, twisted in her gut. She approached the door of Groom to Grow, the lightness gone from her step, feeling like a prisoner going to the gallows.

  She opened the door and looked around at her beautiful space as if she was already saying goodbye. This was her business. More, it was home.

  And she, of all people, knew how quickly you could lose that place called home.

  “Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry,” Amanda said when she went in the door. Sam knew she had not succeeded at hiding her stricken expression. “They just came by and put up the Sold sticker minutes ago! I was going to try to get the sign down before you got here so I could break it to you gently. Are you okay?”

  Actually Sam felt like she was holding it together by a thread, but she smiled bravely and made her escape out the front door and up to her apartment. If she let Amanda hug her, she would break into a million pieces.

  She called Ethan and was relieved when she got his voice mail. She left a quick message saying she was home safely and hung up.

  She dialed the Realtor, who wouldn’t give her any more information than she had given Amanda, even though they were second cousins by marriage.

  “You’re the tenant, Sam. I can’t divulge the details of the deal to you. It’s between the owner and the purchaser.”

  “What about my business? What about Groom to Grow?”

  “The possession date is only thirty days away.”

  “Thirty days?” she breathed. “Isn’t that awfully fast?”

  “To the owner’s delight,” the Realtor said dryly.

  “You’ll be contacted soon, Sam. Don’t worry.”

  Don’t worry. She had spent the last wonderful week not worrying. And look what had happened. Logically she knew worrying would not have changed anything, but she had an awful feeling.

  As if she had let down her vigilance and her whole life was being shot to smithereens because of it. While she was gallivanting around Cape Cod and Boston, she should have really been scouting a new location for her store! She should have been planning for this contingency, instead of letting herself be swept away.

  The phone rang. She hoped it was the Realtor showing proper loyalty to family members, but it wasn’t.

  It was Ethan. Why did she feel mad at him?

  Because he had made her believe for a short time that life held only good things.

  “How was your trip back?”

  For some reason, Sam steeled herself against the way his voice made her feel: as if she just wanted to blurt out every fear she’d ever had, lay them on his broad shoulders, let him help her carry them. It scared her that she didn’t want to be brave anymore.

  “Uneventful,” she said. She couldn’t trust herself to tell him about the store without crying, and the last thing she wanted to feel right now was more vulnerable.

  “Hey, guess who called me this afternoon?”

  “Who?”

  “The Finkles. They want to meet with us again. What do you think of that?”

  She felt as if her heart was doing a free fall, as if it was shooting down that hill in a roller coaster, only it wasn’t going to make the turn. It was going to fly right off the track.

  She’d always known she wasn’t good enough. She’d always known better than to trust life. She thought of the Sold sign swinging gently in front of her store. And of him inviting her to go the Finkles, her blowing the deal the first time.

  He’d said he didn’t care. But he’d warned her he was competitive. Had everything since then been geared to this moment? How easy it would be for a man like him, worldly and successful, to make a little bumpkin like her believe.

  He hadn’t ever said he’d given up on Annie’s Retreat. He’d said he was backing off “for the time being.”

  She thought of his eyes and his lips, the way his hand felt in hers, the way she tingled when any part of him came in contact with any part of her.

  She thought of his father saying, She’s a keeper.

  No one could have gone to such lengths to keep a pretense going. No one. But even knowing that, knowing she was being unreasonable, suddenly she could not see any way they could have a happy ending.

  This would end in heartbreak, one way or another.

  A boat pulling away from a dock and never coming back. She could not survive it again. She had pretended, ever since it had happened, that she was strong. Tough as nails. Brave.

  But she wasn’t. The truth was she wasn’t even brave enough to keep a dog; they passed through her life on the way to somewhere else, because she was afraid to keep them. Afraid to love totally.

  And suddenly she didn’t want anyone to know how afraid she was of change, good change or bad change, least of all not him. She did not want to be made weak and needy by love, she di
d not want to be powerless before it.

  So, she thought, I will make him despise me.

  “You planned it all, didn’t you?” she demanded.

  “From the very beginning, this is what you wanted. For me to go back to the Finkles with you, and be convincing this time. Woman in love.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, genuinely baffled. And then, softly, “Are you a woman in love?”

  “No!” Yes. “Would it have made you happy if I was? We could go back out to Annie’s Retreat and get what you missed out on the first time. Of course, buying my store, the bride price, was putting the cart before the horse, but why not? You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”

  Stop it, she told herself, but she couldn’t. This was safer, this was easier. She had kept her life as unchangeable as she could since her parents had died. She lived in the same place. She saw the same people. She had not even allowed herself to grow up. She was not ready for the kind of change Ethan Ballard represented.

  “Buying your store?”

  “Don’t play the innocent with me! You’re just like my brothers! You had to look after me. You couldn’t believe I could make it on my own! You could get Annie’s Retreat and bail me out at the same time!

  “Get this straight, Ethan Ballard. I don’t need your help and I don’t need you!”

  His long silence told her she was succeeding at driving him away, at keeping her world narrow and safe.

  “How can you believe such a thing of me?” he asked quietly.

  “You’re the one who thought you could buy a bride,” she reminded him, something in her voice so cold. So cold she was shivering, but he didn’t have to know that, and he couldn’t see her.

  She could hear the thinly veiled fury in his voice when he said, “If that’s how you feel, Samantha, goodbye.”

  She saw Amanda had come up the stairs behind her, not wanting her to be alone. She was staring at her wide-eyed as she set down the phone. A picture of composure, Sam plucked Waldo out from under Amanda’s arm, tilted her chin and went to her room, shut the door with a quiet click behind her.

  Still lugging Waldo she went over to the stereo in her room and turned it on. Loud. A love song, naturally. And only then did she allow herself to cry at what she had just done.