Snowflake Bay (9 page)

“Just that you'd come up to help your family during the holidays.”

He made a mental note to double their holiday bonuses. So she didn't know about his folks' relocation—something his employees all knew about—or what the real situation was regarding his taking over the day-today operations of the farm. His father was a wonderful man. A great dad, loving husband, and wonderful employer. But he sucked at delegating the most important stuff. Something Ben had worked really hard not to do in his own business as it grew. So while there was no one but him capable of running the family tree farm at the moment, the same was not true of Campbell Landscapes. “Please send my regards to your parents,” he said, and gently took her elbow, smoothly but purposefully turning her back toward the Land Rover. He noticed the Maine plates and rental sticker. Only Annalise would find a rental agency that had a late-model Land Rover in look-at-me yellow. “You're going to want to get back to Bangor and catch a flight out before the incoming storm traps you here,” he said, not actually knowing the immediate forecast, but there was always a storm coming this time of year.

“Ben,” she said, sounding a bit alarmed, and more than a little surprised.

He discovered he was perfectly fine with both of those things. He thought Annalise could use a little shaking up now and again. Lord knew she'd done enough of the shaking when they'd been together.

He got her into the driver seat before she could rally. “Next time, just call. Or better yet—” He stopped himself, smiled calmly, and simply said, “Have a safe trip home.” He closed the door, stepped back, lifted his hand in a short wave, then turned and headed back to the baler. He would have whistled if he knew a good tune. Instead, he contented himself with a wide grin.

He heard the engine start up, then, “Ben!”

He slowed, dipped his chin, then turned back toward the truck, but didn't respond.

“You didn't used to be so . . . I don't know. You're all rugged and outdoorsy up here.”

He lifted his hands. “The outdoors is in my blood.”

She smiled, then pursed her lips. “So . . . manly-man manly. Not that you weren't before, but . . .” She let her words trail off, and then let her gaze trail all over him.

His smile faded and every warning bell he had went off as if there were a five-alarm fire somewhere. And there was. About twenty yards in front of him, behind the steering wheel of a yellow Land Rover. He'd seen Annalise at her most determined. And he never wanted to see that look directed at him again. He knew better than to try to deflect her with words. Instead, he held her gaze, his own just as implacable, his will just as steely as hers. She might remember him as the love-struck and, okay, horny guy who could never say no to her. She was right about one thing. She was looking at a very different man now.

“We'll talk again when you get back to Portsmouth,” she said confidently, as if she was quite sure of the eventual outcome. And he knew she thought she was. “December 28,” she called out as she revved the engine. “Save the date.” She rolled forward a few feet, then braked again. “Oh, and it's black tie. You still have your tux, don't you?” Her smile was broad, playful, and oh so sure. “Although I admit, now that I've seen you like this, you do a lot for denim and fleece-lined plaid, too.” She sent him a wink and a wave; then she was gone in a cloud of dust.

A low, appreciative whistle sounded behind his back.

Ben turned to find Kearney, one of his dad's longtime employees, standing a few feet behind him. He was in his early sixties, medium height, strong as an ox and just as hardworking. “Sorry, didn't mean to eavesdrop. Quite the looker.”

Ben smiled. Kearney had been around long enough that he must have more than a passing idea of just who that had been. “So is a poinsettia. Doesn't make them any less toxic if you were to take a bite.”

Kearney chuckled. “Only if you happen to be allergic.”

Ben slapped him on the shoulder and they both turned back toward the fields. “It took a prolonged exposure, but I've discovered that I have a very strong allergy to smart, rich girls who don't understand the meaning of no.”

Kearney's laugh was more of a hoot as he slapped Ben's shoulder in return. “Boyo, there are some women you just don't mind having to say yes to.”

“Well, you're welcome to go work your wiles on that one, and may the good Lord bless you both with a long and fruitful union.” He tugged on his coat and pulled his gloves more tightly onto his hands. “But, and you can trust me when I say, the emphasis there is going to be on the fruity part. Also? Be real careful where you take that bite.”

They were both chuckling as Ben's phone buzzed in his front coat pocket. He pulled off a glove, fished the phone out, and looked at the screen. Only after seeing it wasn't from his mom or his dad, did he let out the breath he automatically found himself holding these days, even though he knew his dad wasn't in any imminent health danger. The decline he faced, even if it progressed more rapidly than they hoped, would not be all that swift. He pushed the button and held the phone to his ear, “Hey Logan, what's up?”

Kearney motioned to the outbuildings where they stored their tractors and other big equipment, and Ben nodded and mouthed that he'd be down there as soon as he was done. The older man strode off as Ben paused and looked back over the fields, making sure Tommy had indeed gotten Frankie to help him out, pleased to see that the two of them had the trailer almost full. He'd have to remember to team them up in the future.

“We've got a bit of a situation,” Logan said.

Ben squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his brow with his gloved hand. So either Hannah or Kerry had told Logan about the little meltdown their sister had had at the Rusty Puffin. He doubted very sincerely that Fiona had said a single word about it to anyone. In fact, he was quite certain she wished she hadn't spoken at all. “Listen, I'm sorry. I'll make it right. I don't have a clue in hell how, and if you can help me with that before you put me on my ass, I'll consider us even for the time you got us in detention and almost kicked out of school for moving Principal Thomason's VW into the school courtyard.”

“I don't know what in the hell you're talking about, but I'll be happy to put you on your ass later. And I still make no apologies for the VW and neither should you. Old Thomason needed to get a sense of humor.”

“Agreed. Not that your little plan worked in that regard, I might remind you. Quite the opposite. So, what's the situation then?”

“There was a screw-up with the town clerk on your lot permit. I know you've come in twice to get the paperwork done, and we just figured out why it didn't happen.”

Ben had been slowly walking toward the maintenance building, but that stopped him. “You mean the paperwork for the lot the Campbells have occupied since before there was a town clerk?”

He could hear Logan swear under his breath. “Uh, yep. That would be the one.”

“What kind of screw-up could there possibly be? Everyone who has ever lived in the Cove knows we have that space from the day after Thanksgiving to Christmas Eve.”

“The kind of screw-up that happens when the mayor lets his daughter's former college roommate take over the town clerk job for winter break so our actual town clerk can go up to New Brunswick to help her daughter through the last few weeks of a difficult pregnancy. And then the temp assigns the lot you normally use to the council for winter boat storage because their regular lot experienced a sinkhole issue.”

“So, are you telling me we don't have any space in the Cove? I mean, it's not the end of the world to have a new location. I think people will find us. Your town is not that big.”

There was a long pause.

“Logan?” Ben stood a little straighter. “Wait, are you really telling me there's no room at the inn? We only operate three satellite stands and the one in the Cove is our oldest and biggest, the one with the most long-standing and loyal customers. We can't just—”

“Hold on, hold on,” Logan said, cutting him off. “I didn't say there was no room. Of course we're going to accommodate your family's tree stand. The entire town would rise up and lynch me if I didn't find space for you, and it was our mistake.”

“So, what's the problem? I mean, clearly, there's a problem.”

“Possibly. Small one. Or . . . maybe not so small.”

“Seriously, bro, just—”

“The only space big enough to accommodate your needs is the big empty lot next to Beanie's.” He said it all very fast, too fast, and kept on, without taking a breath. “There's even that field on the south end of it, which we'll have cleared and plowed for folks to park in. I know you wanted to come unload today, and I've already talked with Owen about getting all the proper permits and getting you the generator hook you'll need, and of course the old trailer you use for the office is still available. We'll have it moved over, our expense. So it's looking like we can get you in by Tuesday, maybe late tomorrow.”

Ben let him talk until he ran out of breath. Then he waited an extra beat, and maybe a few more, before saying, “So, I guess you heard from Kerry about what happened at the Rusty Puffin.”

“Actually, it was Hannah. But, uh . . . yeah.”

“So, just the three of you know then?”

“Well, there were two guys playing pool in the back.”

Ben's chin dropped all the way to his chest and he smacked the phone against his forehead twice, eyes squeezed shut all over again, before taking a short breath and bringing the phone back to his ear. “So, the whole town knows.”

“Pretty much.”

“So after you get done putting me on my ass, then—”

“There will be a line of folks waiting to do the same, uh, yep.”

“Ah.” He waited a beat again, only this time he was hoping Logan would fill the break. He didn't. He finally sighed, then swore under his breath, then sighed again as the silence continued. “I was a complete dumb-ass hopped up on hormones and the goddess I thought your oldest sister was back then. I was an ass regularly to Fiona, even though she gave as good as she got. In my defense, I thought of her as my bratty kid sister.” He stopped, searched for the rest of the words that would keep his oldest, dearest friend from beating the ever-living snot out of him for being in any way the cause of his younger sister's very public humiliation. “As for still being an ass to her as a fully grown adult . . . guilty as charged. I didn't—” He broke off, swore again. “I didn't think of it that way. The nickname. I mean, I guess if I'd taken a half second to think it through, it would make sense, but we were kids and she's like family and I just . . . I didn't know. Sure, I liked to yank her chain back then, but I would never have knowingly hurt her, not like that. Hell, I'd have pummeled anyone who hurt any of your sisters. Still would. Jesus.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I feel awful. Worse than awful. I've been trying to figure out how I'm going to set things right with her.” More silence. He'd rather have Logan beat the crap out of him than endure this silent treatment. “There's no way to make this right, is there?”

“First off, we were all assholes when we were that age, and I never told you to stop, so I'm equally guilty.”

“Logan—”

“You had your say,” he said, and for the first time in, well, possibly ever, Ben heard an actual edge in his best friend's voice. Not that they hadn't had their falling-outs over the years, but that had been as kids. They were both grown adults now, and what Ben heard in Logan's voice was not something that would simply blow over. Ben was family, but he wasn't a McCrae. There were three things that would come before him—four now, counting Alex, he supposed—and all of them had the last name McCrae.

“You're right,” he said, soberly. “Go on.”

“I didn't realize,” Logan said, “what it was doing to her. No one did. But we know now.”

Ben opened his mouth, then shut it again, all but biting his tongue off to keep from speaking, from continuing his apologies, even as he knew Logan wasn't the one who needed to hear them.

“So maybe this lot screw-up thing is a blessing in disguise.”

“I'm sorry, what?” Ben was certain he couldn't have heard Logan correctly. “Because parking my family's tree lot next to the one person in town who has every good reason to hate the current owner and operator of said tree lot is a good thing? For who?”

“You. And Fiona.”

Ben barked out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Are you high?”

“Not since that time behind old man Warshack's shed.”

“God, what a nightmare,” Ben said.

“You mean Warshack finding us and threatening to tell my grandfather and your folks, and making us work for him for free until he felt we'd repaid our debt to society? Or being forced to park your ass next to my sister until the two of you find a way to fix this thing?”

“Is this a trick question?”

Logan sighed, then said, “I'm afraid not.”

“I'm not actually the one in charge of running that satellite lot. Or any of them, actually. I'll be back at the farm overseeing the main operation. I have three of our return college hires running the lots, you know that.”

“I do. But that's going to change, for this year at least.”

“Logan, with all due respect, you can't tell me how to run my family's business.”

“With all due respect, you hurt Fiona, and that gives me the right to tell you how best to fix that.”

“Even if I could find a way to make it happen, I'm not sure your solution is going to give you the hoped-for result. Even if I want it to. Don't you have enough to contend with, given your sister's impending Hatfield-and-McCoy wedding ceremony? You don't need a second blood war over Christmas trees, do you? And if you're right and the whole town knows, then—”