Marking Time (15 page)

“It’s nice of you to include me.”

“Oh, please, it’s our pleasure. We get so tired of passing the same old gossip around. We need some fresh blood.” Diana had straight red hair and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Clare figured she was in her mid-thirties. She knew Diana was married but didn’t have children yet and was running the business her parents started more than forty years earlier.

Bea opened several bottles of wine while the women dug into the appetizers they had contributed. With the notable exception of Aidan O’Malley, the people in Stowe had been so friendly to her, and tonight was no different. They made Clare feel right at home.

The group of ten women sat in a circle in front of the woodstove. “Okay, Clare, you’re on the hot seat tonight,” a young blonde named Naomi said. “Tell us your life story.”

“You don’t have to, Clare,” Bea said with a stern look at Naomi.

“No, that’s fine. Let’s see. I’m from Connecticut originally, but I’ve lived in Newport, Rhode Island, for almost twenty years. I’m here for a few months to help my brother with some work he’s having done on his house on Maple Street.”

“I heard you hired Aidan O’Malley,” a woman named Jessica said.

“That’s right.”

“He’s
gorgeous
,” Jessica said with a wistful expression.

Bea’s “I told you so” smirk from across the circle made Clare smile.

“Do you have kids?” Naomi asked.

“Three daughters who are nineteen, eighteen, and thirteen.”

“Are you married?” Naomi asked. When Bea shot her another stern look, Naomi said, “What?”

“I’m recently divorced.”

“Oh, sorry,” Naomi said. “Do we hate him?”

“Naomi!” Diana said. “That’s enough. Just because you hate your ex doesn’t mean everyone does.”

“You’d all
better
hate my ex,” Naomi said.

Clare laughed. “No, we don’t hate mine.”

“It’s better that way,” one of the others said.

“Yes,” Clare agreed.

“Well, let’s talk about John Adams,” Bea said, shifting the group’s focus off Clare and onto the book.

Clare sent Bea a grateful smile. She’d felt better since she arrived in Stowe, and talking about Jack wasn’t high on her to-do list just then.

Aidan O’Malley arrived with a thump and a crash at six thirty the following Tuesday morning.

Clare got up to look out the window. From the second floor, she watched him drag a table saw onto her porch. Judging from the way he stalked back to his truck, she figured he was in the usual pleasant mood.

Since Aidan was starting with the kitchen, Clare had moved essential items into one of the spare bedrooms upstairs. She had a coffeemaker, a microwave, and a mini-refrigerator she’d bought to get her through the weeks without a kitchen. Pulling on a robe, she brushed her teeth and ran her fingers through her hair on her way downstairs to let him in.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Hey.”

At least it wasn’t a grunt.

“I had a key made for you so you can come and go.” He came with such high praise from Bea that Clare had decided to trust him with the key. It was all part of her determination to acknowledge that just because she’d encountered one monster, not all men were evil.

He took the key and pushed it into the pocket of his faded jeans. “Thanks.”

“Big talker, aren’t you, O’Malley?”

He stopped what he was doing and stared at her. “Huh?”

“Never mind. I’ll get out of your way. Just grunt if you need anything.”

She was halfway up the stairs before he grunted out what might’ve been a chuckle.

That afternoon at the bookstore, Bea and Clare sat behind the counter unloading boxes of new inventory that had arrived earlier in the day. The two women kept up a steady stream of chatter during their afternoons together. Bea often said she had no idea how she’d ever managed without Clare. They began to share confidences, which was how Clare knew Bea had never been married or had children but doted on her nieces and nephews. She apologized for the grilling Clare had faced at the book club meeting.

“Don’t be sorry. They were just being friendly.”

“They’re nosy. Especially Naomi. That girl has never had a thought her mouth didn’t share.”

“They’re women. It’s what we do.”

“Will your girls be coming up to visit soon?”

“My oldest and youngest will be here for a week after Christmas. My middle daughter is living in Nashville this year. She’ll be in Rhode Island with her dad’s family for Christmas, but she’s going back the next day.”

“What’s she doing in Nashville?”

“The same thing millions of others go there for—she’s trying to break in to the music business.”

“Wow. Is she that good?”

“She really is.”

“It must’ve been hard for you to let her do that.”

“It wasn’t exactly my idea. Her father agreed to it when I was…” Clare stopped herself. How did she tell her new friend the rest? “Well, let’s just say she worked it out with him.”

Bea raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“It’s a long story.”

“And it’s your business, honey.”

“I’ll tell you,” Clare said haltingly. “I want to tell you. It’s just… It’s kind of a big deal, and I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.”

Bea studied her for a moment and then got up, turned the Open sign to Closed, and locked the door.

Bea sat in stunned silence, tears rolling unchecked down her face. “I don’t know what to say.”

Clare squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“When you said you’d had an accident, well, it just never occurred to me—”

“Of course it didn’t. It’s not a story you hear every day.”

Bea suddenly snapped out of her stupor. “Why are you comforting me? Come here.” She reached out to hug Clare.

“Thanks for listening.”

“Thank
you
for trusting me with your story. I’m so sorry for what your family’s been through.”

“Thank you, but we’re all doing better now.”

“I can’t wait to meet your girls.”

Clare smiled. “They’ll like you. Despite all this, they’re great kids. I have to give Jack credit. He did a good job with them while I was sick.”

“I can’t believe how generous you are toward him.”

“I love him,” Clare said with a shrug. “I want him to be happy, and someday things will be better for me, too. I have to believe that, or all of this will have been for nothing.”

“You did an admirable thing. You put someone else’s happiness ahead of your own. I know good things are ahead for you.”

“I’m already happier here than I’ve been in months. Stowe’s been good for me.”

Bea squeezed Clare’s hand. “We’ll take good care of you until you’re ready to go home.”

After work the next day, Clare stopped at McHugh’s to pick up vegetable soup for dinner. On an impulse, she ordered a second bowl to go.

Aidan was running a plank through the table saw on the front porch when she arrived at home. He wore protective goggles and sawdust clung to his face and hair. He finished the cut, examined his work, and turned off the saw.

“Hi,” she said.

He startled. “Oh, hi. I didn’t see you.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you and cost you a finger. That thing looks pretty sinister.”

He held the storm door for her. “It’s not so bad.”

She went inside.

Carrying the board he had cut, he followed her in.

“I got some soup. Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

She held up the bag. “I got extra.”

“It does smell good.” He ran a hand through his wavy brown hair to brush out the sawdust.

“Stop playing hard to get and come up to my formal dining room.” She led him upstairs to the spare bedroom she was using as a makeshift kitchen.

“Let me wash my hands,” he said, ducking into the bathroom.

Clare took the soup and plastic spoons out of the bag. The soup’s aroma made her mouth water, but she’d come to expect nothing less from Diana.

Aidan came in, and Clare handed him one of the containers. “Want something to drink? I have Diet Coke and two beers,” she said, peering into the small fridge.

“I’d love a beer.” He took the soup and sat on the sofa.

“Coming right up.”

Clare opened the beer for him and took her soup to sit next to him.

“Did you get this at McHugh’s?”

“You have to ask?”

“It’s good. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They ate in silence. It had gotten so quiet that when the phone rang it startled her. “Excuse me.” She got up to answer it in her bedroom and was delighted to hear from Maggie, who told her a long story about the goings on at school.

Aidan was finishing his beer when Clare returned to find her soup had gotten cold while she was on the phone.

“Sorry for the interruption. My daughter had a big day at school.”

He looked at her with surprise. “You have a daughter?”

“Three of them,” she said, retrieving her soup from the microwave.

“Where are they?”

His tone seemed almost accusatory. Clare turned to him. Today he wore a blue flannel shirt with faded jeans. The long-sleeved white thermal undershirt seemed to be a standard part of his uniform. And since he’d been inside all day she decided his rosy cheeks were a permanent feature and not the result of working in the cold. “The oldest is in college in Providence, the middle one lives in Nashville, and the youngest is with her dad in Rhode Island. That was her on the phone.”

“Why aren’t you with her?”

This time there was no doubt about his tone—or hers. “That’s a long story, and I’m not sure it’s any of your business.”

He got up. “You’re right, it isn’t. Thanks for the soup.” Tossing the beer bottle in the trash, he left the room.

Clare fumed for a minute before she stomped down the stairs to where he was cleaning up his tools in the torn-apart kitchen. “Why do I feel judged?”

He shrugged. “Maybe you feel guilty.”

“Are you for
real
? You don’t know me at all, and you’re making some mighty big assumptions.” Clare wouldn’t have bothered to engage with him, except he had struck a nerve with the guilty comment.

“All I know is if I had a child, I wouldn’t be living away from her.”

“It sure is easy to say that when you’ve never been there.”

A flash of naked pain streaked across his handsome face. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Aidan…” Clare went after him, but he was already out the door. A moment later she heard the squeal of his truck’s tires.

C
lare and Aidan went out of their way to avoid each other over the next few days. They said a polite hello in the morning and an equally polite good-bye in the evening. After three days, Clare couldn’t take it anymore.

“Aidan, I’m sorry about the other day.”

“Forget it,” he said as he measured an area over the kitchen sink.

“I can’t forget it. I know I said something that hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t all that nice to you, either. How you handle your kids is none of my business.”

“No, it’s not.” What was it about him that made her feel like she had to explain herself? “There’s more to the story than meets the eye. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“Let’s just drop it, okay?” He clipped the tape measure onto his belt and held out a hand. “Truce?”

She studied his outstretched hand for a moment before she reached out to shake it. “Truce.”

“Have you picked out the cabinets and countertop yet?”

“I have an appointment tomorrow.” She walked around to look at what he had done so far. The walls were stripped bare where he had pulled out the old cabinets, and Spackle marked the places where he’d made repairs. The plywood floor was thick with dust and chunks of putty. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“You will when it’s done.”

“So what happened to all your toys?”

His brows knitted with confusion. “What toys?”

“The phones and the pager.”

“They’re history. I just kept one phone for emergencies.”

“What brought that on?”

“Call it a change in direction.”

“Good for you.”

“I’m getting used to the quiet.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work. I’m off to the bookstore.”

“Have a good day at the office. Tell Bea I said hi.”

“Thanks, I will.” She slipped on her parka for the walk into town and had reached the front door when he called out to her.

“Clare?”

It was the first time he had called her by name. “Yes?”

He came out of the kitchen and handed her a twenty-dollar bill.

“What’s this for?”

“Soup’s on me tonight.”

“Oh,” she said. “Okay.”

He turned back to the kitchen. “See you later,” he said over his shoulder.

“So then he hands me a twenty and says ‘soup’s on me tonight,’” Clare relayed to Bea when she got to the store. “What does that mean?”

“Sounds like a date to me,” Bea said with her trademark “I told you so” smirk.

“It is
not
. He barely speaks to me.”

“You had a big fight the other night. How can you say he barely speaks to you?”

“Fighting doesn’t count.”

“What’s wrong with this picture?” Bea asked with amused exasperation. “You were married for twenty years, and you can’t tell when a man is interested in you? I’ve never been married, yet I see it?”

“See
what
?”

Bea took Clare by the shoulders and marched her into the tiny restroom in the back of the store. “Look,” she said, standing behind Clare.

“What am I looking at?”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Clare. You have all that luscious blonde hair and the most dazzling blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. If an old lady like me can see how gorgeous you are, don’t you think Aidan is going to notice it, too?”

Clare reached up to smooth her hair in a self-conscious gesture. “I’m not ready to be thinking about stuff like this. I have enough on my mind as it is.”

“Maybe ‘stuff like this’ is just what you need to get your mind off the rest, huh?”