Back to McGuffey's (13 page)

She pushed at his arm, the warmth of her fingers flowing soft and inviting through the fabric of his shirt. “You couldn’t be any more wrong, tall guy. Although, now that you mention retro, that huge flat-screen TV and pool table in the family room in the basement would have to go, wouldn’t they?”

“Not far, they wouldn’t.”

“So.” She turned a little sideways in the seat, drawing her knee up so that the shimmering stockings glinted against the leather. “What are you going to do at summer’s end? Do you know yet? Go back to Boston? Stay in Fionnegan? Become an aging ski bum who practices medicine in his off time?” A shadow crossed her expression so quickly he might have imagined it. “Summers end, whether we like it or not.”

And we don’t like it. Not the least little bit.
“I don’t know,” he said, although he thought he probably did. “I like what I’m doing just fine, you know. A day or two a week in the big city. I can spend time with the folks when they get home and help at the bar even after Dylan’s had to go back to work and Morgan’s back in school.”

“But you’re going to get tired of the traveling back and forth. I know it’s not that far, but it adds up when you do it twice a week. It’ll get old.”

It already had, Ben thought, but didn’t say. He’d given serious thought to getting his pilot’s license just because he was tired of making the drive to Boston and back. Going on the train was fun, but it was a long ride and got lonesome. He’d taken flying lessons in recent years—finishing the process wouldn’t take too long. But he knew himself well enough to realize that if he had a license to fly, he’d want a plane, too, which would really be a mortal blow to his retirement account.

“It’s okay. It’s a pretty drive and I get to sing real loud with the Beatles—I’ve learned all the words to the songs on the
White Album
. I listen to some course work, too, for when I get to be a real doctor.”

She raised her eyebrows. “As opposed to a fake one?”

“As opposed to one who doesn’t keep up with things that change. There’s way too much of that going around.” He slowed as they reached Burlington’s city limits. “Want to shop a little on Church Street before we eat? You’d be the best-dressed person in the sock store, guaranteed.”

“Sure.”

It was the best date he’d had in years, other than the evening walks around Fionnegan with Kate and Lucy. In the shops on Church Street he bought her a wind chime and a signed Will Moses print. She got him two new pairs of his favorite kind of wool socks.

They ate at an Italian restaurant whose name had multitudinous stars and dollar signs assigned to it on the internet, finishing off a half bottle of wine that cost more than a case of McGuffey’s biggest seller. They ordered different entrées, forking samples from each other’s plates, and shared a dessert.

“I wonder if the chef here would like to moonlight at A Day at a Time,” she mused, scraping the last of the truffle banana cake from its plate. “He could do birthday parties for adults and I would be his first customer.”

Ben snorted laughter. “Come on. Let’s go find someplace to dance.”

They walked on the well-lit sidewalks, her heels clicking soft and rhythmic beside him, her hand in his. When they laughed, which they did often, her head bumped against his arm. He thought he could still feel the day’s sunshine in her hair.

When they got to a club where the music was loud but inviting, spilling into the street so that people who were walking by did so with some bounce in their step, Ben and Kate went inside, paid the cover charge and looked around for a table. There wasn’t one available, so he swept her onto the dance floor.

“How often do you wonder where we’d be if it hadn’t been for that night in McGuffey’s when I was so sure I was doing the right thing for both of us?” he asked, when the music became quieter and slower but still beat hot and sweet between them at every spot where their bodies touched.

She shrugged, a move that sent an echoing shimmer right through him. “Not often,” she said in a voice so quiet he had to bend his head closer to hers. “Only every single day.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I
CAN
TOO
turn a corner. I can
too
.” Jayson punctuated his declaration with a spate of frustrated hand-waving and the stamp of one sneaker-clad foot. “I hate you, Debby. You’re mean. I want Ben. He will let me ride alone and turn corners.”

“Ben’s in Boston, Jay. He can’t ride with you today.” Debby’s voice sounded thin, as though her patience was unraveling more with each word. “I have to get some sleep. Remember I worked last night?”

“Debby’s going home to bed, Jayson.” Kate intervened between sister and brother. “You and I are going to pick green beans this morning, remember?”

“And work at A Day at a Time? And turn corners?”

“That, too. We’ll do that as soon as the last guest leaves, okay?” She urged him toward the kitchen of the Kingdom Comer, waving Debby away with an encouraging smile over her shoulder. Then Kate turned back and directed Jayson toward the toaster. “Why don’t you make the toast?”

“White or wheat?” He parroted the standard question, laughing uproariously.

“You’re goofy.” She gave him a squeeze. “Get the bread out while I take the orders, okay?”

The B and B had become quiet in the waning days of summer. Mrs. Hylton-Wise, whom virtually everyone now called Maggie at her behest, had returned to New York. “I’ll be back in October, though I might stay at Bright Sky if it hasn’t sold,” she said when she checked out. She reached to grasp Kate’s hand. “I think talking about her with you gave her back to me a little bit. It made the house feel like home again. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Kate smiled. “I was glad to meet her.”

Ben remained in the suite over the garage. Though there were guests nearly every night, the inn was full only on the weekends. Marce called late August the calm before the storm of autumn. Even the garden was winding down—the beans Kate and Jayson planned to pick would be the last of the season. The nights were already cooling. Kate had taken to wearing a sweatshirt on the nightly walks.

“It’s raining, Kate,” Jayson announced, drawing her out of the reverie she’d fallen into when the last guest left. He came in from the three-season room, his round face creased with unaccustomed discontent. “We can’t pick beans. Lucy and Sally want to come in the house.”

“The rain hurts their joints—they’re old. Let them into the laundry room. Lucy likes lying next to the dryer when it’s running.”

“Where’s Ben? I want to ride today. I have my helmet.” The boy’s displeasure was working its way into a tantrum. Not a common occurrence but hard to cope with, nonetheless. “I hate Debby.”

“No, you don’t. You love Debby and she loves you. Ben’s in Boston today and tomorrow, remember? He works there on Monday and Tuesday this week.”

“Sometimes just one day.”

The correction made her grin. Occasionally Jayson’s memory was selective, convenient to his needs. “That’s right, but this week it’s two days.” She thought Ben’s work schedule and its irregularities would have driven her crazy if she had to adhere to it, but he seemed to thrive on it. “He’s picking up his parents at the airport tomorrow afternoon, too, so he’s going to be busy even when he gets back to Fionnegan.”

She was busy, too. Today was the start of her last week at the B and B. A Day at a Time was scheduled to officially open the first day of September. She was spending the days till then moving into the living quarters of the Cape Cod–styled building and taking care of the myriad of last-minute details that seemed to crop up every day. Who knew what all was involved in opening a small business? Thankfully for her, a lot of people in Fionnegan did, and they’d helped her with all the hoops that had required jumping through.

This week, however, was tied up with the biggest scheduled bike ride of the summer. The inn would be full-to-bursting from Thursday night through Sunday afternoon. The back-to-school ride on Saturday was thirty miles and more than a little challenging. Ben was riding, as were Colby and River Dehart, Penny and Dan and their entire family and Debby. Even Kate was riding; by then, her job at the B and B would be over. Marce would be back for good. Jayson was going to help her with the sandwiches, cookies and cider Kingdom Comer was offering the riders on their return.

“I want to go on the trail ride.” Jayson got his flash cards out of the drawer of the desk in the corner of the kitchen.

“Who will help Marce at the inn if you go? Her daughters are riding.”

He thought about that for a minute, his broad brow furrowed. Then he brightened. “I know. Marce can hire someone from A Day at a Time.”

Kate burst into laughter. “We’re not open yet. She can’t do that.” She headed toward the dining room to ensure it was in order. “We’ll work on your flash cards in a minute, okay?”

Staying on a schedule was key to keeping Jayson happy. Mealtimes needed to be within fifteen minutes of the same time every day. He watched
Big Bang Theory
and
Andy of Mayberry
in specific time slots, but was willing to spend more time in front of the television if someone stayed with him. He was profoundly social, though there were people he wasn’t comfortable with. He watched River Dehart admiringly, and the young man was always nice to him, but Jayson didn’t like Colby.

“He doesn’t have to like everyone just because he has Down syndrome.” Ben would shake his head when Kate worried about Jayson’s unaccustomed scowl in Colby’s direction. “That’s like saying all overweight people are jolly.”

She didn’t think Ben would have been nearly so acquiescent about it if he’d been the one Jayson didn’t like. The truth was that Ben and Colby weren’t crazy about each other, either, though they were unfailingly polite when they met.

“He’s a doctor and I’m an engineer,” Colby had said when she asked him about it two weekends before. They’d gone to a concert in Burlington. “Our minds move in different ways.” He smiled at her. “I’d probably like him better if he was ugly and hadn’t been your boyfriend once upon a time in your dark and mysterious past.”

“Oh, good heavens, you sound just like him.” She’d laughed, but he really
had
sounded like Ben.

A few hours later, when Colby kissed her tentatively good-night, she’d wondered if she was comparing him to Ben all the way across the board. To prove to herself that she wasn’t, she said yes when Colby asked her to go out after the upcoming ride. Following refreshments at the inn, they’d go to Burlington to watch the Vermont Lake Monsters play baseball at Centennial Field. And then she’d kissed him in return, trying to prove something to herself. But it hadn’t worked.

Ben was her friend, she reminded herself. That was all he wanted. It wasn’t his fault if it wasn’t enough.

“Kate?” Jayson’s querying brought her back to the present. “It’s stopped raining.”

She looked out the window. To say the rain had stopped was an overstatement, but she had a feeling Jayson wouldn’t be content to stay inside the house. “Do you have your hoodie?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Are we going to ride?”

“We’ll ride as far as Penny’s, but we’re not going to pick beans today.” Kate loved gardening, but she’d never acquired a fondness for wet plants slapping against her legs.

“Is Bill Joe there?”

“No. He’s back with his family.”

“Are Penny and Dan sad?”

“A little, but they’re happy if Bill Joe’s happy.” Something Kate didn’t think she could have managed, though she knew Penny cried and prayed over every child who left her care, too.

Jayson pulled his shirt on upside down. “My mom wasn’t sad when Debby took me away. My mom didn’t like me. She used to hit me sometimes.” He frowned. “What’s wrong with my shirt? This is the one Ben gave me from the tavern. Is it broke?”

“No, it’s fine.” Kate helped him with the shirt, struggling against anger at fate and Jayson’s mother. If he’d been hers, she’d have loved him so much.

It was when they were riding toward Penny’s house that she realized it didn’t matter whether he was hers or not—she still loved him so much.

* * *

“H
E
SLEPT
ALL
the way home.” Maeve McGuffey clung—just for a moment—to Ben, as the Logan International Airport attendant pushed Tim’s wheelchair toward the curb. She pressed her face to his sleeve, then drew away, trying her level best to mask the sadness and exhaustion in her eyes with a wide smile. “You and Patrick got the reports from Dr. Murphy in Kinsale?”

Ben took her carry-on and put his arm around her as they walked to where his SUV was parked. “Got them. What did you say he was—a third cousin twice removed?” His picture at the top of the message he’d sent had looked almost eerily like Dylan.

“His mother is my first cousin, whatever that makes him, and she and I look alike, so the resemblance isn’t surprising. I nearly asked him where his collar was when I first met him.” Maeve’s laugh, usually a silvery soprano gift to the ear, sounded forced.

Ben kissed the top of her head and hurried to help his father into the front passenger seat of the SUV. “Doing okay, Pop?”

“I’m fine, fine. Thank you so much.” Tim nodded, beaming, at the attendant. “If you’re ever in Fionnegan, Vermont, you must stop in for a pint. We pour the finest Guinness in the Northeast Kingdom.”

“I’ll make a point of that, sir.” The aide nodded, smiling, and turned the wheelchair back toward the terminal.

Ben loaded the luggage from the cart, helped his mother into the backseat and got behind the wheel. “What do you say we spend the night at my apartment and head back to Fionnegan in the morning? You two must be tired and I’m hungry enough to eat at least two of whatever’s on the menu. We can order out.”

The sound of air whooshing dismissively through his father’s teeth made Ben grin. “You got a problem with that?” he asked, laying a hand on Tim’s arm. It was thin under his fingers, the muscles his children had taken for granted all their lives gone flaccid from lack of use. Ben swallowed hard.

“I do. Your mother wants to be home and back in her own kitchen, don’t you, love?”

“All in good time, darlin’. We can go home tomorrow just as well.” Maeve’s voice came quiet and soothing from the backseat. Her hand rested on Tim’s shoulder.

“Nonsense. You’ve been patient with me all these weeks, longing though you were to be back home. Are you too tired then, son, to drive home tonight?” Tim’s brogue had been strengthened by his time in his homeland, but his voice had weakened.

Ben met his mother’s eyes in the rearview mirror, acknowledged her slight nod with one of his own, and said, “Nope. Just hungry. We can run through a drive-through and be on the highway in no time.”

Tim stayed awake long enough to eat part of a sandwich from the drive-through, then reclined the passenger seat and was asleep in minutes. Ben and his mother talked in quiet tones as they drove through New Hampshire’s hovering mountains toward home. She spoke of relatives and friends long unseen, of times with his father Ben had either forgotten or never known. She asked about the other family members, anxious to see them but in a way removed from them. Her entire heart, her middle son understood, was with the man she’d spent her life with.

She never mentioned the tavern, even to ask about the well-being of her beloved kitchen.

The whole family was at his parents’ house when they got there. The sun was about to slip down behind the Green Mountains, lending a golden color to the trees. Patrick and Dylan escorted their father into the house, keeping him busy talking so he didn’t know he was being helped. Wendy and Morgan greeted Maeve with hugs, taking her off to the kitchen where she could sit and be more comfortable than she was anywhere else in the world.

Ben and Morgan’s fiancé carried in the suitcases. “How did he seem to you?” asked Jon. “We’ve talked about moving the wedding up, having a small one in late September for just family and close friends. What do you think?”

Ben didn’t know Jon very well, although he and Morgan had been together for a couple of years. He had been, as Morgan said, “blessed” to be an only child. He was nonathletic and quiet, never calling attention to himself, never offering an opinion unless one was asked. “Why him?” Ben had asked Morgan earlier that summer. “I mean, he’s an okay guy, but the world’s full of okay guys. What do you see in him?”

“Someone who has my heart and is going to keep it safe for the rest of my life,” she answered.

“Can he even beat you at pool?”

“We’ve never played.” Her gaze had been cool when she drilled it into Ben’s. “What difference does that make to you as long as he’s okay with me?”

“None.” He’d kissed her forehead then and left her alone, but still he’d wondered. They seemed so different. That feeling of connection-at-the-hip Patrick and Wendy had was missing. Or seemed to be. Not that the connection was infallible—he and Kate were a testament to that.

Now Ben spoke carefully, not sure what the other man was thinking. “I think if you two wouldn’t mind going ahead, a wedding in a few weeks would be a great idea.”

Jon shrugged. He closed the hatch of Ben’s car and leaned over to pick up the suitcases that didn’t have wheels. “I think having her parents there together would mean more to Morgan in the long run than having six bridesmaids. Me, I just want her.”

Ben nodded and started toward his parents’ Cape Cod house with its newly painted doors, pulling the wheeled luggage behind him. “So, Jon. Do you play pool?”

The other man’s grin was so wry Ben thought Morgan had probably told him what her brother had said, but Jon didn’t mention it. “I do,” he said.

“You and me against Patrick and Dylan later at the tavern?”

“Is Dylan the shark I suspect him of being?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m in.”

* * *

“A
ND
THEN
HE
pulls out his stick. We all have our own pool cues—Wendy got them for us for Christmas one year. And we didn’t expect Jon to have one. We didn’t really expect him to know for sure what one was.” Ben walked backward ahead of Kate along the road as he told his story. “Please let me know if I’m going to fall or get run over or anything.”