Geoducks Are for Lovers (9 page)

Maggie follows the dog outside and starts deadheading some flowers in the boxes around the deck with her fingers. She needs to get away from Gil and his intoxicating self.

“That was interesting.” Quinn coughs, and then laughs as he bites into the last scone. “Very interesting indeed.” 

Gil still stands at the sink. Things went from fun and light to uncomfortable in a few seconds after the infamous summer was brought up. Wondering if she still regrets what happened, he turns on the hot water to distract himself from Maggie’s reaction. 

Quinn walks over to the counter with his mug. 

“I’m not one to pry—” He stops when Gil raises his eyebrow in doubt. “Okay I am, but we all know something went down between you and Maggie before she left for France. I have my suspicions, which I’ll keep to myself. But if there’s still that thing between you two that’s always been a thing between you two, now is the time, dear man. Plastics and all.”

“Plastics?

“It’s the advice Mr. Robinson gave Benjamin in
The Graduate
. I think it’s code for seize the day and fuck my wife. Not sure though.”

“Pretty sure it wasn’t code for ‘fuck my wife’, Q.”

“In any case, the carpe diem part is what I’m getting at here. Don’t let her shut you out again. Life is short.”

“Are you giving me love advice?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Huh. Never expected that.”

“Maybe if I’d opened my mouth instead of playing along twenty-two years ago things would have worked out differently and you wouldn’t be a weekend guest here. Think about it.”

“If you only knew,” is all Gil can manage.

* * *

Maggie and Selah take Bessie down the road to the cafe at Bayview Corner. They snag a table outside after ordering at the counter. 

“I love this place,” Selah comments. “It’s like an extension of your living room.

“Me too. It’s a great place to come and write. They’ll let me stay for hours if they aren’t busy. Sometimes Biscuit and I walk down here together. He’s notorious at every cafe around here for being a cookie mooch.”

“I’m glad you got him. I worry about you being on an island all year by yourself.”

“Don’t forget there’s a bridge over Deception Pass, so we aren’t completely cut off from the mainland, even in the worst of weather. I’m not up in the San Juans, where they lose power for days or weeks, and only get off the island by boat.”

“For a city girl like me, who can walk to four coffee places, this is remote.” Selah takes a sip of her coffee. “But the coffee is better.”

“Everything is better here.”

“Everything?” Selah looks skeptical. “How’s your love life? Forget that. When was the last time you had sex?”

“Wow. Cut to the chase much?” 

“Sex and love are not mutually inclusive. You can do each without the other. Sometimes they are better that way. Answer the question.”

Maggie sighs. “Let me try to remember… I’m pretty sure it was since the millennium. Maybe even this decade.” 

Selah growls. “Ha ha. You are very funny. Fine, don’t answer. If I were you, I’d be taking advantage of your eager neighbor next door. He seems more than willing, and able.”

“John and I are friends. I don’t fuck my friends,” Maggie replies.

“Why not? You’re both adults. Both single. Both healthy. Both gorgeous.”

“I’m not like you. I need the emotional connection as well as the physical. Otherwise I’m happier taking care of things on my own.”

“Thank fuck. I worry about you. I know the past three years haven’t been easy and you’re in mourning still, but I don’t want you locking yourself away in some virtual attic.”

“Like the first Mrs. Rochester in
Jane Eyre
? Nice. I’m not crazy. And I divorced my bastard of a husband more than a decade ago.”

“Again, thank fuck. I get the appeal of the French Incident, but you deserve better.”

“Funny, Gil said the same thing earlier today.” Maggie wonders if the two of them are in cahoots.

“We were all surprised when you brought him home with you. Never imagined you’d end up marrying him. He must have been a great fuck.”

“Not sure I want to go into my sex life with Julien, but yes, things in bed were always incredible with him. Well, until they weren’t. But early on, yeah…” 

“Thought as much. All the French pheromones and the accent had your head spinning.”

Maggie sighs at the memory of young Julien seducing her. She’d never been seduced before him. It was a heady thing at the time. He wasn’t her first, but he was the first of many things.

“You might be right. Unfortunately, I learned sex and chemistry a long and healthy relationship do not necessarily guarantee.”

“I’m sure you don’t want my opinion on the matter, but I think he is a classic hunter personality. Once he captured his prey and played with it for a while, he moved on to the next hunt.”

“He never cheated on me, Selah. I know he had many flaws, but infidelity wasn’t one of them. His career became more important. Chef’s hours aren’t conducive to a happy home life. We hardly ever saw each other.” 

“I’m not saying he did cheat. His crimes were taking you for granted and his despicable mother.”

“You have no idea. She would send baby presents to us. Subtlety wasn’t her forte.” Maggie puts down her fork, completely without an appetite to finish her salad.

“Ugh. Horrible, horrible woman.” Selah shakes her head, and then finishes her bagel.

“Why all the talk about Julien and Madame Armand?” 

Selah picks up a caper from her plate. “I’m trying to figure out why you’re cloistering yourself away. You’re gorgeous, smart, successful, sexy… want me to go on?”

“Who’s cloistered? I’m not cloistered. As you pointed out, I have a hot neighbor who you think is ready and able at any time. I haven’t felt like myself for the last few years, so dating hasn’t even occurred to me. John is a good friend, and I don’t want to ruin the friendship with sex.” Maggie feels they are getting dangerously close to a sensitive subject.

“I’m fine, Selah. I swear. Spinster life suits me.” Maggie jokes, hoping to lighten the mood.

“But that’s the thing. You aren’t a spinster. You shouldn’t act like one. Find someone to have sex with. Nothing better for your mind, body and spirit than an orgasm with another person.”

Maggie tries to remember the last time she had sex. It was definitely before she moved back here. Or shortly after. Wait… has it been three years since she’s had sex? Ugh. Selah is right, she does need to get laid, but she isn’t going to admit this to her. 

“I’m fine. I swear.”

“Have sex. You’ll feel better. Have sex with Gil. He seems willing and ready.” Selah teases.

“Ha ha, now I know you are joking.”

“I’m not joking. You and Gil have a great sexual energy. Always have. Well, until the French Incident. I think even after you met Julien, but you buried it under a mound of camembert.”

Distracted by the image of a giant pile of cheese, she ignores Selah’s point.

“All I’m saying, and I’m saying this with love, is I don’t want to watch you hide your life away on the beach. Love more, laugh more.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Shoot me now. I can give you this whole speech again sans the treacle if you want.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I get the point. No hiding, get laid.” 

“In a nutshell, yes. Ding ding ding… we have a winner.” Selah fakes enthusiasm.

“With the discussion of my non-existent sex life over, how about we go pick blackberries?”

“Will said berries be turned into delicious carbs? Cause if no one is going to get laid this weekend, we might as well eat all the carbs.”

* * *

When Maggie parks in the small, gravel area on the side of the narrow road, Selah’s face is full of doubt.

“Is this even legal? I don’t want to get arrested for stealing berries.” 

“Completely legal. I know the people who own the land.” She hands Selah a plastic tub with a long loop of string through the top she pulled from the trunk of the car.

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“Put the string around your neck, so both hands are free to pick and eat berries.” Maggie puts her tub around her neck to demonstrate. 

Selah shakes her head in disbelief. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?” 

“Because this is a good reminder of how much work goes into picking berries. You won’t complain about the price next time you buy them at Whole Foods,” Maggie says, walking toward the far end of the berry bramble.

“This could get tedious fast.” Selah eats a berry.

“Less eating, more picking. So, since we established I have no sex life, let’s talk about who you’re having sex with these days.”

Selah sighs. “No one. Clearly not Mr. Rochester. And I broke things off with Tom at the end of the spring semester. He wanted me to meet his kids and I didn’t envision us becoming that kind of relationship. People get locked into their lives by making lazy decisions. Then never get a second, or third, or fourth chance to get it right.”

“I get it. I never figured I’d be single and starting over in my forties either.” 

“I know you miss your mom, but maybe this is all meant to be. Maybe this is your fresh start, your second chance.”

“Maybe. I am blessed to be here. This life is a gift no matter if it’s what I planned or not, since life rarely turns out the way we expect.”

“Sometimes it surprises us and is more than we imagined.” Selah tosses yet another berry into her mouth. “These are amazing.” 

“I think you’ve eaten more than you’ve picked.” Maggie stares into her half-full bucket, and then peers at Selah’s much emptier one.

“Isn’t that the point of picking your own?” Selah eats another couple of berries. Juice dribbles down her chin and her fingers are stained purple.

“If you keep eating them, we’ll be here all day, you know.”

“True. So getting back to life and second chances…” 

“Yes?”

“How do you think John would be in bed?”

Maggie laughs. 

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because I swore you were going to mention Gil.”

Selah smirks. “Funny your mind would go to Gil.”

Maggie sticks out her tongue. “I never slept with John, let me remind you, so I can’t comment on his lovah skills.”

“Lovah skills?”

They both laugh. 

“John does have big hands and big feet, and is tall. You’d think everything would be in proportion.”

“You would think, but it isn’t always the case. I wonder if he would be offended if I brought this up. I could say I need to know for research purposes.”

“What sort of research would require you to ask him if everything is in proportion?” Maggie asks.

“Ah, you underestimate me. I do teach about the human form in art. The Classical Greeks misrepresented the penis to keep things in ideal proportions.”

“So you’re going to ask John about his penis following ideal proportions?” Maggie giggles. “Good luck with that. He’s an island guy, Selah. You don’t just start talking about penises in polite company here.”

“Since when was I ever polite?” She eats another blackberry.

“True.” Maggie calculates they’ve picked about two healthy quarts of berries. “Let’s get you out of here before you turn purple like the Selah version of Violet Beauregard and the Oompa Loompas come to take you away.”

Ten

“Hello,” Maggie calls out as they walk into the house. Biscuit comes bounding down the hall to greet them.

“Hi, sweet boy.” She scratches his head.

Selah walks ahead of her with the bucket of berries and puts them on the counter. Gil’s sprawled out and sleeping on the couch with a book on his lap. Or at least he is until Biscuit hops up beside him and curls up at his side. After yawning and stretching, he scratches his jaw.

Turning away from Gil, Maggie turns on the sink to rinse the berries, then lays out a towel on the counter to dry them before she’ll put them into the freezer for dessert tomorrow night.

“I guess I fell asleep.” Gil yawns again.

“Hi, sleepy head,” Selah greets him with a wave.

“Sorry we woke you up. Looks like Biscuit took advantage of a new guest and napped with you on the sofa.” Maggie gives Biscuit a scolding look.

“Hey. Sorry about the dog on the couch. I didn’t know.”

“He isn’t banned from the furniture, but I try not to encourage him. There’s a perfectly good bed by the wood stove.”

Gil scratches Biscuit’s head. “Nice to have a dog around.”

“You should get a dog,” Selah suggests, pouring a glass of water, then joining Gil on the sofa.

“I should. I could probably even bring him to campus with me. Be the cool professor with the dog.” 

“Dog, bow tie, patched corduroy jacket… you’d be the hot professor fantasy come to life,” Maggie says.

Gil smirks at her. “Hot professor fantasy? Want to share something?”

Maggie blushes, realizing what she’s said. She reminds herself about Gil’s girlfriend.
Maybe girlfriend.
 

“Yeah, um. Doesn’t everyone have one at some point?”

“No bow tie fantasies for me.” She shakes her head.