Nineteen
“You’re sure you don’t want to go parasailing?” Hank asked as they boarded the ferry to Bald Head Island. It was Saturday afternoon of a holiday weekend, and Annabeth was already feeling guilty about leaving the shop. Hank had arrived an hour earlier carrying a large insulated picnic basket and wearing his devastating smile, making him hard for Annabeth to resist. Her assistant, Lynnette, had taken one look at the man and practically shoved her out the door, insisting Sophie was all the help she needed.
Annabeth was still kicking herself for agreeing to have dinner with Hank, and that was when she thought they’d be in a crowded restaurant with all the holiday beachgoers. A sunset picnic on a secluded island sounded dangerous. And romantic at the same time.
Clearly, she’d had too much wine the other night when she’d agreed to this. But Julianne’s words had been reverberating in her head, giving Annabeth a false sense of bravery. Their trek to the Patty Wagon was pleasant enough, with Sophie and Brody taking turns steering the conversation. When it was time for Annabeth to walk home, however, Brody quickly excused himself to meet a new acquaintance at Pier Pressure, Chances Inlet’s night spot, while Sophie claimed to have a program she wanted to watch on cable and disappeared into the inn. Both their exits seemed a bit contrived, but Annabeth didn’t resist Hank’s escort home.
They walked silently the first few blocks, serenaded by the crash of the surf in the distance and the chorus of tree frogs in the canopy of live oaks above them. Hank asked questions about the town and its history until they’d arrived at Annabeth’s front door. She stood there awkwardly, but Hank made no move to touch her as he had earlier that day in her shop.
“Annabeth Connelly, please have dinner with me.” He stood beneath her porch light, a moth dive-bombing his head, looking as though the fate of the world hinged on her answer. How could a woman say no to a request like that?
“Okay.”
“Are you free Saturday night?”
Lord, did this man think she actually had a social life beyond her book club and her church group? She had to admit to feeling a bit flattered. She couldn’t find the words, so she just nodded.
“Great. How about if I just pick you up from the shop?”
She nodded again.
Hank stepped away from her porch, ushering her inside, but Annabeth just stood there like a fool.
“I can’t leave until I know you’re safely inside, Annabeth.”
Right! Embarrassed, she quickly flew into the house, bolting the door behind her. As she leaned against it, she listened to Hank’s retreating footsteps down the gravel drive.
And that was how she found herself on the ferry headed for a private dinner for two.
“I have no desire to parasail,” she answered Hank. “I leave that to Will and his friends.”
He bristled beside her. “Will has a pretty extensive contract that prohibits him from parasailing for the time being, so please don’t tell me if he does.” He set the picnic basket down on the bench and leaned up against the railing.
Annabeth joined him, watching as the ferrymen untied the boat’s moorings. “Will takes his job very seriously; I doubt he’s been parasailing in ten years.”
“Annabeth, can we maybe forget that you’re Will’s mother and I’m his boss tonight? I’d prefer we just be Annabeth and Hank, two people who want to enjoy a nice dinner and get to know one another.”
The ferry pulled away from the dock, and Annabeth didn’t know whether it was the bobbing of the boat or the potent effect of the man beside her, but she needed to sit.
“Okay.” She settled on the bench, and Hank sat down beside her. “If we’re getting to know each other, tell me about your wife. Elizabeth.”
Hank paused in pulling a bottled water out of the picnic basket. “Ex-wife. Elizabeth and I haven’t been married for over ten years.”
She shook her head when he offered the bottle. “What ended the marriage?”
“Wow, now I see where Will gets it. You pull no punches.” He took a swallow of water before capping the bottle and returning it to the basket. “The usual, I guess. I wasn’t a very attentive husband, and Elizabeth needed more than I was giving her. So she found it somewhere else.”
Annabeth wasn’t sure what shocked her more, that Hank would admit to being a neglectful husband or that his wife would cheat on him.
“She cheated on you?”
Hank smiled at her incredulousness. “I wasn’t exactly faithful to her, either.”
It suddenly felt like a balloon had deflated inside Annabeth. Despite her attempts not to throw her heart into this relationship, she realized that his admission stung. A lot. She pulled her legs up on the bench, resting her chin on her knees to try to keep the disappointment from seeping into her heart.
Hank sighed. “Not in the way you’re thinking. It wasn’t another woman. Football was my mistress.” The boat picked up speed and he had to sit closer to her in order to be heard. “I played football at West Point. I knew I wouldn’t go pro—I wasn’t good enough—but that didn’t keep me from dreaming of being involved in the game somehow. After I finished my tour in the Army, we’d been married a year and Elizabeth was pregnant with Sophie; the plan was for me to go to Wharton and get my MBA. I’d join the family firm and Elizabeth and I would take up residence in Philadelphia society.”
The whipping wind kept blowing a strand of hair in Annabeth’s face, and she shoved it aside as she listened to Hank’s tale.
“A friend of mine who worked with the Philadelphia Eagles called one day and said they were looking for a scout, someone to travel to college campuses and assess the football talent. The job barely paid anything, but both Elizabeth and I are trust fund babies.” He shrugged unapologetically. “I didn’t even tell her. Or my dad. I just took the job because I desperately wanted to do something in the NFL.”
Hank hung his hands between his knees as the boat jumped across the choppy waters. “The job required a lot of travel. A lot, but I wanted to do it well, so I didn’t complain. I nearly missed Sophie’s birth and, well, it goes without saying that I missed pretty much all of her firsts.”
He glanced out over the ocean, and Annabeth glimpsed the pain in his eyes.
“If she really loved you,” she said, “she would have persevered through those years while you pursued a dream.”
“If I really loved her, I would have found a way to meld my dream and my marriage better. I would have made it work.”
His admission stirred something inside Annabeth: empathy, certainly. But jealousy, too. She wanted a man to love her enough to make something, anything, work.
“But thank you, Annabeth. It would have been nice to have someone on my side back then.”
“Your family sided with Elizabeth?” She didn’t know why that thought hurt her so much, but it did. Hank was a good man. To know that his family turned their backs on him when he needed it pained her greatly.
“They sided with Sophie. Elizabeth is her mother. She and Kevin were discreet in their affair, so nobody but me was the wiser.”
“But your family should know she cheated on you!”
“No, Annabeth, they shouldn’t. That would only hurt Sophie. She lives with Kevin and Elizabeth and two younger brothers who’d slay dragons for her. Despite her teenage drama, she has a comfortable, stable family life. There’s no reason to upset it with something that’s in the past.”
The boat slowed as it arrived at the island’s harbor, giving Annabeth time to study the man seated next to her. He was not what she’d first thought. She’d assumed he’d become less appealing the more she was exposed to him and the more he found out about her. Instead, she discovered that beneath his handsome exterior was a man who had a generous heart. Somehow, her heart beat a few ticks faster just knowing that.
She tilted her head, laying her cheek on her knees. “So football is your first love.”
“It was then.”
“And now?
His eyes bored into her. “I’m working on developing a different game plan.”
The boat bumped the edge of the dock, nearly knocking her from her perch. Hank stood, picking up the picnic basket, and reached down to help Annabeth to her feet. She slid her hand into his, the warm contact feeling right.
They disembarked and headed up the hill.
“You aren’t planning on us hiking one of the trails, are you?” She gestured to her sandals with the wedge heel. She’d dressed carefully today in a peach linen blouse and cream capri pants.
Hank leisurely looked her up and down, his face registering his approval. “No. Our chariot awaits us at the surf shack up there.”
True to his word, a golf cart with a piece of paper bearing Hank’s name taped to the seat was parked outside the shop. He loaded the basket into the back and helped Annabeth in before walking around to start it up. The cart sputtered up the bend through a line of tourists heading for the lighthouse.
“Hey, is that lighthouse actually open to the public?” he asked.
“It is,” she laughed.
Hank jockeyed the golf cart up to the small store at the base of the lighthouse. “I’ve never been in a lighthouse before. Let’s go up.” His childlike exuberance was hard to ignore.
“It’s one hundred and eight steps to the top; do you think you can handle it?’ she teased.
“Oh, Annabeth, now you’ve challenged my manhood and we have to go.”
He bought them each a ticket, and Annabeth was grateful for her thrice-weekly spin classes as they nearly sprinted to the observation deck. The windows were small and they had to crowd together to see out. The boats in Chances Inlet Harbor bobbed in their slips, the sunlight reflected off them winking back at the lighthouse.
Annabeth peered at her home. “The town looks so small from over here.”
“It is a small town,” Hank said from behind her, his breath fanning her ear. The heat from his body warmed her back. “Do you ever feel like it’s too small? Like you want to explore somewhere else?”
Exploring someplace else would be far out of her comfort zone. She knew who she was in Chances Inlet; she didn’t have to fake being someone she wasn’t. But there were times she wanted to see what else was out in the world. She just didn’t think she could face what was out there alone. Not yet, anyway.
“I don’t do well with new things and new experiences,” she whispered.
Hank braced his hands on either side of the wall beside her head. “Maybe you just need to quit trying new things solo.” His words caressed the back of her neck.
She turned her head slightly, her lips an inch from his. “Maybe.”
A group of chattering teens stormed up the stairs, and Hank led her back out to the golf cart. They drove across the island to the west side, where a row of spectacular beach houses dotted the dunes bordering the Atlantic. Hank pulled up to a driveway of a large cedar-shake house situated right on the ocean.
“We’re eating here?” Annabeth stared at the massive house she was sure she’d seen featured in a magazine somewhere.
“No. Out there.” He pointed to a gazebo out on the sand, one side enclosed by a brick wall complete with a fireplace; two of the other three sides were glass to shield it from the wind. Hank parked the golf cart in the small carport. “There’s a bathroom at the back there if you want to freshen up.” He pointed to a service entrance adjacent to the carport.
After Annabeth made use of the bathroom, she peeled off her sandals and walked out to the gazebo. A table was already set, complete with a linen tablecloth and silverware. Wine chilled in an ice-filled wine bucket.
“Obviously you’ve been here before.”
“Nope.” Hank pulled out a chair for her. “It’s just my reward for beating a friend of mine at golf yesterday.”
“You have some pretty wealthy friends.” Most of Annabeth’s friends picnicked in the sand.
Hank took the seat across from her. “I have lots of friends, Annabeth. Not all of them wealthy. But I grew up in that world. I won’t apologize for that.”
His words stung a bit. Had she become such a snob that she faulted him for his birthright?
Hank reached over and grasped her hand on the table. “This is supposed to be the perfect spot to catch the sunset. I brought you here so you could enjoy it.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, not wanting to ruin the evening.
He poured wine into each of their glasses. “So now it’s your turn to tell me your story about your marriage.”
She nearly choked as she took a fortifying sip. “I . . . I was never married.”
Hank looked at her quizzically.
“Will.” Annabeth sighed. “He thinks he has to protect my reputation by telling everyone I was married to his father. I wasn’t.”
He pulled fried chicken out of the insulated basket, along with a container of Patricia McAlister’s homemade potato salad, mixed fruit, and a tray of double fudge brownies.
“All my favorites. You certainly did your research.”
“Your friend, Patricia. It only took a passing comment about needing a picnic basket and she took over.”
That meant that everyone in Chances Inlet knew she was out on the island with Hank Osbourne. Annabeth wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but since the man was leaving in a few days, she figured it didn’t matter. Suddenly, though, the thought of Hank being gone by the end of the weekend made her stomach ache. She took another sip of wine as he prepared a plate for each of them.
“So, you weren’t married? Ever?”
He’d been forthcoming with his story, so Annabeth didn’t feel right not sharing hers. “No. Will’s father was a brief fling. My one and only,” she added shyly. “He was a young nineteen-year-old Marine, in town with some buddies on their weekend leave from Camp Lejeune. I was the new girl in town. My parents had just died and I’d been here all summer but didn’t know a soul my own age. I guess you could say I was ripe for any kind of attention. For someone to tell me they’d love me forever. It was a couple of months before I even realized I was pregnant. By then, he had shipped out to God knows where.”
Annabeth took another gulp of wine. “It was the gym teacher who finally figured it out. Unfortunately, she wasn’t very discreet about it. She kept trying to coerce my grandmother into forcing me to give the baby up for adoption.”
“Why didn’t you?” He posed the question gently.
“My reputation was already in tatters. My parents were dead, and I barely knew my grandmother. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I wanted someone to love. Someone who was all mine and would love me back. I know it’s silly, but I’ve never once regretted my decision.”
Hank saluted her with his wineglass. “Silly is not a word I’d ever use to describe you, Annabeth. And I commend you for the job you’ve done with Will. I can’t imagine it was easy.”
It hadn’t been easy. But somehow, against all odds, her son had turned out well. A success.
“Did you ever try to find Will’s father? You didn’t have to do it all alone financially.”
“I did, when I finally discovered I was pregnant. I went to Camp Lejeune but was told he’d died in a friendly fire episode shortly after he deployed. There were no parents to contact because he’d apparently grown up in the foster care system. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was kind of glad he didn’t have any family. That way, I didn’t have to share Will with anyone. It was just me and my grandmother, and I couldn’t have given my son up.” A bemused sigh escaped her lips. “I guess I’m a lot like more like my daughter-in-law than I thought.”
She hadn’t realized she was crying until Hank reached across the table to wipe away a tear.
“Hey,” he said. “Why don’t we eat this delicious dinner your friend prepared and enjoy the sunset?”
As they ate their meal, Hank offered up the occasional anecdote from what he termed Sophie’s teenage drama. It was obvious he adored his daughter, and Annabeth wondered what it would have been like if Will had had a father who adored him as much.
The sunset was everything Hank promised. By the time they’d packed up their picnic and traversed the dark island back to the ferry, it was a chilly ride back. Still, she huddled on the outdoor deck, Hank’s arms around her, watching the lighthouse fade in the distance.
Once in Chances Inlet, Hank deposited the picnic basket back at the inn. Sophie had gone to the movies with Lynnette’s granddaughter and wouldn’t be back for another hour. They stopped at the Patty Wagon again for some lemonade before ambling through the back streets to Annabeth’s house.
Hank’s voice punctuated the darkness. “You know, Annabeth, you are a lot more than just Will’s mother. Or a shopkeeper in Chances Inlet. You can be whoever you want to be.”
They were fifty yards from Will’s house. She could see Julianne silhouetted in the window carrying Owen up the stairs. While Annabeth appreciated Hank’s confidence in her, she was comfortable in Chances Inlet. She’d made mistakes in her life, yet the town accepted her anyway. As one of its own. Her business and friends were here and that was enough for her. Reinventing herself somewhere else was just too much for Annabeth to take on. She didn’t know why Will, and now Hank, couldn’t understand. One thing she did know, she didn’t want this magical night to end.
Tugging on the hand he’d wrapped securely around hers, she pulled him deeper into the trees. When they were out of sight of the house, she stood on her toes and kissed him. It was a tentative kiss at first, until he took the reins and began kissing her back.
Hank leaned his back against a tree, pulling her in closer contact to his hard body. Annabeth sighed as she opened her mouth wider to give him better access. Her hands fisted in his shirt before he broke the kiss to push his glasses on top of his head.
She nuzzled his neck as his hands squeezed her backside. Their lips found one another again. One of them moaned, she wasn’t sure who.
Suddenly, the yard was flooded with lights.
“Who’s out there?” Will shouted from the verandah.
“Ah, hell,” Hank whispered. “Please tell me he doesn’t own a shotgun.”
Annabeth couldn’t help it, she laughed. Hank held her closer, but that only made her giggle harder. He chuckled along with her.
“Mom? Is that you out here?”
She could hear Will coming down the steps.
“Have dinner with me and Sophie tomorrow.” Hank whispered in her ear.
She nodded against his chest. “Go!” she managed to get out between giggles. Hank stood there flattened against the tree, at least the parts of him that could remain flat. Annabeth laughed harder as she stepped out into the yard, now lit up like a Christmas tree lot. Will was advancing toward her.
“Mom! What the hell are you doing out here?”
“None of your business. Go back inside where you belong.”
Her son’s eyed narrowed to slits. “What’s that on your neck?”
“William Anthony Connelly, I respect your privacy. I expect you to show me the same courtesy.”
“Oh, for the love of . . .” Will swore. “I’m happy to respect your privacy, but I’d really rather not find you necking in the woods with HANK OSBOURNE!” he roared.
“Will!” Julianne called from the porch. “You’ll wake the baby!” She waved at Annabeth. “Hey, Annabeth. We were just going to have dessert. Would you like to join us?”
The last thing Annabeth wanted to do was make small talk with her son right now. “No, thank you, Julianne. I have an early day tomorrow. I’m going home. Thank you, though.”
“I’ll walk you home.” Her behemoth son was being a tad overprotective.
“It’s only across the driveway, Will. Your mother isn’t in any danger. If it makes you feel better, come up here and stand next to me and we’ll both watch her safely to her door.” Julianne winked at Annabeth.
Will tried his game face on her, but Annabeth was immune. She strolled inside unaccompanied, making a mental note to offer to watch Owen for Julianne every day for a week.