The Palms (3 page)

Curiosity.

She had a lot of curiosity at that moment. As she lay under the covers, she wondered what the breakfast at Green’s Pharmacy would bring. Would he really be there? Would she tell him how she felt? How handsome would he look? What had happened over the last ten years? Would she finally get a chance to tell him how much he’d hurt her?

“Jesus,” she whispered. She shut her eyes and twisted her body as she tried to quiet the growing concert of questions in her head. Slipping further underneath the fluffy duvet didn’t work, either.

It was all too much temptation to resist.

“Fine, I’ll get up,” she said, even though she was alone. “Fine.”

She kicked away the twisted sheets and stumbled from the California king bed to the connected bathroom. A flip of the switch flooded the room with fluorescent. Her parents had redone the two-bedroom condominium five years ago, and the bathroom was an updated palace of chrome — his and hers sinks, a glass shower, and a large marble bathtub. Lauren’s mother often called the bathroom her favorite part of the fifth floor condominium.

Lauren put her elbows on the counter that rimmed the sinks. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and studied her face. Twenty-eight years old. No wrinkles so far, no fine lines. No sunspots. In fact, only the acne that rimmed her hairline and broke out on her jawline bothered her about her looks. That morning, the acne greeted her in the form of zit on her chin. It stood out to her like a reminder that she’d never be a great beauty, no matter what anyone told her.

“Gross,” she muttered as she flipped open the faucet of the sink, grabbed the soap and started to wash her face. “I need a facial so badly.”

Maybe she’d make an appointment for later this week at the small spa around the corner. She wrinkled her nose as she thought about the annoyance acne had brought her over the years. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t shake the flare-ups. Now she wondered if the shock of seeing Trent again brought about this latest cluster. Likely.

After she washed her face and dried it, she flipped on the shower and stepped in once the water turned hot enough. Her mother had also added a steam shower during the renovation, so once Lauren finished washing her hair, she flipped the button to convert it to steam.

As she stood there, she thought. A lot. She remembered the summer she and Trent fell for each other ten years ago — the way he’d kissed her for the first time, one night in June, underneath the clock tower down at the public beach. She thought about the crush she’d had on him for five years prior to that moment. That summer had changed her whole life — she’d come to Palm Beach in May a naïve girl, but she’d left a soul-crushed woman.

Most of all, she reflected on how he left town that August without so much as a hint that he planned to leave, and no word from him or his parents about where he’d gone. He disappeared the day after he told her he loved her — the day after she slept with him for the first time. It all happened the morning after she lost her virginity to him on the sands of the private beach connected to his parents’ house.

“You better tell me why you left,” she muttered. “I deserve to know. And I won’t let you hurt me again, Trent Matthews.”

All these years later, as she stood under the steam, she turned from curious to annoyed.

Very annoyed.

9:30AM, Green’s Pharmacy

If this breakfast had been a business deal or a meeting about a charity event, Trent would have let his irritation show. He despised tardiness from anyone. In fact, he prided himself on
never
being late.

Well, hardly ever.

During seven years of military service and three out in California at Silicon Valley, Trent showed up late to a meeting or work only three times. Three. Each of those times, he had a legitimate excuse. Trent equated tardiness with rudeness, which is why he checked his watch every minute or so as he waited for Lauren to arrive. As he chewed on bites of his banana nut muffin and sipped his coffee, he mulled over the fact that Lauren had more than enough reason to blow off breakfast with him altogether.

The more he thought about it, the more the memories turned his breakfast into tasteless mush.

Anyone would have hated him for what he did to Lauren,
anyone
— and he knew that. Even the din of the other patrons in the luncheonette and their conversation about the front page of the
Palm Beach Daily News
couldn’t drown out the guilt that shouted in his mind. He should tell Lauren the real reason he left, he knew, but as he took another bite of the muffin and contemplated ordering another, he convinced himself he wouldn’t. Not yet. He couldn’t handle that yet. He didn’t want to see the look on her face. He didn’t want to have to gauge her reaction — not to that.

“I can’t do it,” he resolved as he stabbed another piece of the muffin on the plate. “I just won’t. I won’t.”

At that very moment, the door jangled as Lauren walked into the pharmacy. As the door closed behind her, she stopped, glancing at the other patrons at the pharmacy as if she expected them to look her over. Many of them did.

Lauren wore a black strapless sundress accented by a long gold necklace, a blue straw purse, and large black sunglasses. She slid them off her nose and searched the room for Trent.

When their eyes met once again, Trent knocked his fork onto the floor.

“Oh God,” he said a little too loud as he glanced down at it. Then he hurried to pick it up. As he did, he wiped his hands on his navy shorts and straightened the hem of his grey crew neck shirt. Along with promptness, Trent had also picked up fastidiousness in the military. He didn’t like things out of place. He had his fill of that in 2002. Ever since, his life had been a study in calculated moves.

He heard her laughter as she made her way to him. Trent chose to ignore his own clumsiness. Instead, he got up and pulled out the metal seat for her as she made her way to his table. As she arrived, he caught a sniff of something cinnamon coming from her hair. Whatever annoyance her tardiness and his own messiness caused him breezed right out of his brain.

“I’m happy you came. It’s nice to see you.” He waited for her to take a seat before he sat down too.

“Likewise,” she replied, adding another signature smile that she hoped masked the frustration boiling inside her. She nodded at his half-eaten muffin. “Looks like I am late. So sorry about that.” She fixed a coquettish smile on her face to disarm him. The late arrival had of course been her intention, and had Trent stopped to remember everything he knew about this woman, it wouldn’t have surprised him at all. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

“You’re not late. I’m just hungry.” He pushed the plate away and pulled his coffee a little closer. “I hardly noticed what time it was.”

She looked around at the rest of the people in the pharmacy before focusing on the menu. The long lunch counter in front of a short order kitchen opened up to about twenty tables. A large board on a back wall outlined the daily specials. Behind Lauren, ten low rows held a variety of cosmetics, toiletries, books, and souvenirs for sale. “So, what’s good here?”

Not that she needed to ask. Back when they were kids, the two of them ate at Green’s Pharmacy once a week.

“I seem to remember you loved one thing about this place.”

“And what was that, Trent?” Lauren kept her eyes on the menu.

“The muffins,” he said. They both laughed once again. Seconds later, a server came by the table. Lauren ordered coffee and a grapefruit. When she did, he frowned at her. An unexpected move.

“What?” Lauren read his expression. “I’m on a diet right now. No carbs.” She turned to the server. “We'll have another fork, too.” He laughed as she turned to him. “I’m serious. Carb free. That’s my new thing. No carbs.”

“Just alcohol, right?” He narrowed his eyes at her and his mouth slid into a half smile.

“Alcohol’s not a carb. Not in my book.” She paused. “Well, not technically.” She grinned at him, leaning across the table, her flirtatious side obvious to both of them. Long ago, she learned that playing the flirt was a good way to hide her real emotions. “And I think you have enough carbs on your plate for the both of us.”

He looked down at the few remaining crumbs and pieces of the muffin. “You’re wrong. Not enough carbs in the world. The world needs more. Sad little—sad little carbs.”

“It’s not the muffins that made you ask me here.” She leaned back, breaking the spell of their little flirtation. Her tone turned serious. “That’s not the reason. It can’t be.”

Trent took a long sip from his coffee and considered his words. He shrugged. “I wanted to catch up with you. And Green’s Pharmacy is a great place to do that.”

She looked over at the lunch counter, marveling at how little the restaurant changed from year to year. “Even the waiters here all looked the same,” she observed. “Though I guess they can’t be, not so many years later, right?”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Spen and I used to come here three times a week in the summer when we were kids,” she mused.

Trent’s face darkened as more memories flooded his mind. He hadn’t stopped to think how talking about certain people would affect him. “How is Spencer?”

“He’s good.”

“I see you’re still calling him Spen.”

“Sometimes. When I forget.” Lauren thought about it for a minute. “You know why I called him that when I was little?” Trent shook his head, unable to remember. “Because I couldn’t pronounce R’s.” Now, a genuine smile decorated her face. “I really should get in the habit of calling him by his correct name.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” Trent replied. “At least the Spencer I remember wouldn’t.”

The server arrived with Lauren’s coffee. “We’ll have the grapefruit out in a minute,” she told her.

Lauren nodded and waited to answer Trent until the server walked away. “He’s doing fine. Married with a little girl in Chicago, and he works at a law firm there.” She grabbed a sugar packet from the caddy on the table. “And, of course, he’s still my brother.” One side of her mouth twitched upward.

“That’s great. Great to hear.” Trent tried to make sure she didn’t sense how uncomfortable talking about Spencer made him. He hadn’t talked to Spencer since August 2002, either. Just too awkward. Too many bad memories and even more questions. He was sure she knew that. She
had
to know that.

“Wish you all hadn’t lost touch. You guys had so much in common.”

Trent tapped the index finger of his left hand on the table a few times. “He was a good friend back when we were kids.”

“It didn’t have to be that way, Trent. You didn’t have to up and cut ties with him.”

He struggled to find an answer. “It was the only way. Or at least it seemed like it at the time.”

“But why?”

“Wow. Some things haven’t changed at all, have they? You were always so direct, Lauren.” He took another swallow of his coffee. “Looks like you still are.”

He didn’t add that he also thought she looked more beautiful now than she did at eighteen. He’d never thought that possible. Ever. But it had happened. Twenty-eight-year-old Lauren had turned into a mix of luscious, tumbling brown hair with a natural wave, animated eyes, glimmering white teeth, and a body that looked like she spent hours each week in a yoga studio. God, he would bet money that underneath that dress she had a tight little stomach to match her firm, round ass...

“Being direct is one of my better qualities,” Lauren replied. The words snapped Trent out of his daydream.

“Well, I seem to remember you had plenty of other qualities I liked.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and a skeptical look crossed her face, so he changed the subject. Fast.

“Mom told me a few things about Spencer, and how he was doing when I was on the ship, but not much. Always vague.”

Lauren stopped her coffee cup midway to her mouth. “The ship?”

“Yep.” He reached for the butter. “I joined the Navy after that summer, back in 2002.”

Lauren put the cup down, incredulous. “You did what?”

He didn’t let her insistent, shocked tone faze him. “I did seven years. Enlisted.” Trent rubbed his hand over his chin. Not that his time in the military had ever been far from his mind. “Joined in January 2003, after I graduated Amherst in December.”

Lauren cocked her head. “You never seemed like the Navy type to me.”

“People change, Lauren.”

“I see.” She stopped and thought about all the world events that had happened since 2002. It made her settle on asking an obvious question. “So… were you deployed?”

“Sure was.” He smiled at her. “A few times. But it wasn’t so bad.”

“Well… uh… did you like it?” She frowned. “I just can’t imagine the Trent Matthews I knew in the military, let alone on some ship in the Indian Ocean.”

He nodded, dismissive. “I needed it. That’s what’s most important.”

She sipped her coffee again. “After that?”

“Google.” He grinned. “Three years. But I took some time off to come back here since Mom’s having a hard time with Dad’s death...”

“Wait. He died?” Now the surprise in Lauren’s voice went to another level.

“It was sudden. He had a massive stroke about six weeks ago.”

“Oh my God. But he was still so— so young.” Lauren’s voice cracked. Another twist. Ten years really had been a long time.

“He was sixty.” Trent looked down at the table. “And in good health. We just didn’t—we didn’t see it coming in any way.”

“And your mother? She’s not—”

He looked at her sideways. “She’s depressed. Again. And I just don’t know how she’ll be able to take it this time around.”

“She’s really bad off?” Lauren asked. Ten years ago, Ellen Matthews was a tiny, vibrant woman in her mid-50s with a blonde bob, pearls around her neck, a black Fendi bag, and signature ruby red flats. She could walk into a party and know everyone before finishing her first cocktail.

“Maybe not so bad.” He considered his mother’s health for a moment. “Well, bad enough. She needs treatment. And she’s so stubborn…”

Lauren leaned forward a little. “I’m sure she can fight it better this time around. Plus there’s more out there to help her. I’m sure she’ll be okay.”