Ben
“I was a little worried when they showed up in their cocktail-hour finest, but I think the oyster tour was a smash. Honestly, I had trouble getting them out of here.”
“They raved about it all night,” Holly assured him. “Mrs. Sutton kept giggling and whispering about the aphrodisiac effects of shellfish through dinner. Do I have you to thank for that?”
“Well, you saved us all. What could have been a disaster turned into a hit.”
“I take it your lobster boil went off without a hitch?” After the tour had ended, he couldn’t help but wonder how they were all faring at the Cranberry.
“I’m going to have bonuses and overtime to contend with, but my staff rolled with it.
I owe them a lot.” Hearing the pleasant buzz of activity in the background, he found himself almost wishing he were there.
Standing in the kitchen yesterday as Holly circled the wagons, he’d been left with a sense of teamsmanship he’d never felt in his law firm.
No doubt they were an odd group, from the serious Swede to the tightly wound manager to the old neighbor who always seemed to be hanging around with a paintbrush, but somehow they worked.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Holly said again.
“You can thank me by coming down to the farm. It’s quiet here today. I’d love to show you around.”
“Today? Oh, I couldn’t possibly. We just wrapped a somewhat muddled brunch and barely got everyone out the door to the spa on time. And the big rehearsal dinner is tonight.”
Things were certainly hectic for Holly workwise, but he wondered if that was her only reason for declining. It wasn’t exactly a mystery why they hadn’t been in touch the last few years.
“Well, if you change your mind, I’m here. And I think it would be worth your while.”
“Worth my while?” She sounded skeptical.
“I have a business idea that I think could benefit both of us.”
“Sounds intriguing, but I’m afraid I’m barely managing the business I have.” She let out a nervous laugh. “You know how it is, starting something new.”
He did know. It was the reason for his call. Last night had inspired him, and he wanted to strike while the iron was hot. Besides, if he was totally honest, he wanted an excuse to talk to Holly again.
On the other hand, he’d dealt with the Suttons himself.
Their daughter must have interrupted a hundred times on the tour, asking him to stop the boat or pause the talk or move out of the light while she snapped photos and posed with her bridal party.
She didn’t stop talking until he finally shoved a glass of wine in one of her hands and an oyster in the other. “We can try another time,” he relented.
Holly grew quiet on the other end of the line, and he figured he’d lost her already. Then, “How’s right now?”
“Now?” His heart quickened. “I thought you were flat out.”
“Honestly, it’s been a rough twenty-four hours. I’m just glad my grandmother wasn’t here to see how rough.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Let’s say I could use a change of scenery. But we need to keep it short and sweet. There’s still so much to do up here, and the bridal party will be back soon and then—”
“Short and sweet,” he interjected. “Now let’s get you down here, before you talk yourself out of it.”
He was waiting for her in the small parking lot on the landing.
When she stepped out of her car, the first thought he had was how pretty she looked in her linen jacket and slacks.
The second was that they weren’t exactly the kind of clothes you wore out on the oyster beds.
He’d take the boat instead of the barge.
“I escaped,” she said triumphantly. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ve left the inn for three days!”
“Welcome to Oyster Boys.” He was so tempted to give her a hug, but she’d crossed her arms. Stick to business, he reminded himself. That’s what this was about, after all.
“I haven’t been down to this landing since I was a kid.” She looked up and down, from the marine repair shop by the boat ramp to the fishing charter company housed in a shingled cottage right next to his. “It’s so quiet and private down here. Didn’t we used to fish off this boat launch?”
“We did. And yes, I like the neighborhood feel. It’s not too commercial.”
He showed her inside to the small tasting room. “In the back is my office and downstairs, at the dock level, is the oyster processing room.”
Holly wiggled her nose. “It doesn’t stink like fish.”
“No.” He laughed. “I hope not.”
He watched as she walked around the tasting room, between the three small tables they’d set up for guests and up to the bar at the front, overlooking the water. “That’s where we shuck and serve, fresh from the water.”
She sat on a stool and inspected the shelves lined with local wines and spirits, then at the chalkboard hanging on the wall by the window with the daily menu. “Good offerings.” She ran her hand over the wooden bar that he’d fashioned himself, from a piece of reclaimed driftwood. “Nice touch.”
He waited as she looked out the window, then back at him. “This is incredible, Ben. You’ve got the working operations right outside and the product on their plate.”
It was exactly what his brother, Jonah, had said when he first showed the place to Ben, trying to convince him that they could use the farm for more than just farming. “I know it’s pretty rustic, but I hope it’s intimate, too. I want guests to feel like they’re part of the story here.”
Holly glanced around appreciatively. “They will. I’m so glad I got out of the inn and came by.” It was the best compliment he’d heard so far.
“You haven’t seen all of it.”
He steered the boat away from the dock and out toward the nursery.
It was high tide so the oyster racks and cages were submerged, but he could still take Holly out to the FLUPSY deck.
With the motor of the boat purring, there was no need to talk.
The sun was bright and high. Gulls circled overhead.
When Ben glanced back at her, Holly’s eyes were closed and her head tipped back. For a moment it was like old times.
As they approached the nursery, he slowed and idled the motor. “Hang here a second,” he said, hopping out of the boat and onto the platform. Quickly, he tied off and extended a hand.
“What is this thing?” she asked, climbing onto the platform.
“The shellfish nursery. It’s where we grow the young oysters from seeds. C’mere, I’ll show you.”
They walked up and down the platform as Ben lifted the lids and showed her the silos where the oysters were submerged in water. He was impressed when Holly rolled up her pants and kneeled on the deck beside him. “Look at you.”
“What?” she asked, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“Nothing.” Fearless, he thought happily. So unlike the little girl he’d first met on the beach years ago.
He watched as Holly mimicked him, reaching deep into the bucket and running her hands through the water, scooping up a handful of young oysters. “They’re so tiny! And yet perfectly formed.” She looked up. “Nature is astounding, isn’t it?”
Holly’s eyes were already so blue, but they nearly sparkled when she grew excited. “Astounding,” he agreed.
“What happens when they grow to full size?”
“You can’t believe how fast they grow, especially in summer. Jonah’s crew is out here daily, sorting them so the big ones don’t crowd out the little guys.” He nodded to the flats out a ways off. “When they’re big enough, we move them to the underwater cages.”
“How will you get to them under there?”
“Low tide.” Ben could see her mind working, imagining it. “You’ll have to come back and see it sometime,” he said, hoping she would.
“Do I have to come back to sample the product?”
Her interest pleased him to no end. “Do you think I’d skip the best part? Come on, last stop of the tour.”
“Cover your ears, little guys,” Holly said, looking into the silo one last time. “It’s tasting time.”
Back at the dock he reached down to help Holly out of the boat, but she swatted his hand away. “I’ve been on boats before, you know. In fact, I used to know a guy.”
“Used to?” She was teasing now, and it lifted the lip of formality they’d been treating each other with since that first day he’d delivered to the inn. This was the old Holly, the one who raced into the waves to grab the bow of his boat and help guide it to her shore when he rowed across the cove.
He stopped in the processing room and scooped a dozen oysters into a bucket. Back up in the tasting room he shucked two and passed her the larger. Ben watched as she tipped it back without hesitation.
“Well?”
Holly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I think I need another, you know, to be sure.”
Delighted, he got busy shucking the rest as she watched.
“Seriously,” she told him, “it’s salty but sweet, and perfectly plump. You don’t even miss the cocktail sauce.”
“Bull’s-eye.” He winked. “That’s the aim for our East Coast oyster.”
They devoured the rest in silence, except for the slurping.
“Sorry,” Holly said, smiling self-consciously.
“They’re just so good.” He didn’t dare point out that she’d eaten eight to his four.
What he really wanted to do was pull down a crisp bottle of rosé, too.
But Holly was on the clock. “Oh man, I’ve got to run,” she said, as if reading his mind.
Ben could feel the boat ride and the tour already washing off of her, the business hat going back on.
“Thanks for the tour, though. I can see why the wedding party loved it here.”
“But you haven’t even heard my idea yet.” He should’ve shared it when they were on the water, but their time together had flown.
She glanced at her watch, then back at him. “Quick, tell me now.”
There was no beating around the bush. “I think we should partner up.”
“We? As in you and me?” He could tell this confused her.
“As in the Oyster Boys and the Cranberry. An agritourism and boutique hotel partnership. Together, we provide guests a memorable one-of-a-kind experience immersed in local culture.”
For the second time that day, she crossed her arms. He hoped it meant she was hearing what he was saying. “You’ve really thought about this.”
“So have you. It’s why you’ve renovated the inn and expanded your dining experience with farm-to-table. I imagine also it’s why you’re putting up with the Suttons this weekend, letting them take over and bending over backward to keep them happy.”
Holly shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. The Suttons are very low-maintenance.”
“So I’ve noticed.” At least he had her smiling now.
“It’s true, these are the kinds of things I’ve been hoping to add to our guest experiences.” Holly looked out over the dock. “You’ve got a good thing going down here. I’m happy for you.”
“So let’s combine forces. Just like you did with the Monomoy boat tours, only this will be more intimate.”
Holly turned, fixing him with her blue-eyed focus. “What does your wife think about this idea?”
“Laura?” He couldn’t believe she was asking this. Was it possible she didn’t know? “You mean my ex-wife, Laura.”
The look on her face was proof of his suspicion. Was that part of the reason for her reservedness since he’d been back?
“Holly, we divorced a year ago.”
“I had no idea.” Something behind her eyes flickered; he wondered if it was relief or just embarrassment at her mistake. “I’m sorry,” she rushed to add.
“Nothing to be sorry about. It was mutual, and it’s all history now.
” Standing in the sun with the time they’d just shared behind them and the business offer between them, the last thing he wanted to talk about was Laura.
“Anyway, that has nothing to do with why I’m here or why I’m proposing we work together. ”
Holly held a hand up. “Of course not. You should also know, it has nothing to do with why I’m going to think about it.” When she smiled this time, Ben felt something inside give. There she was: playful and guileless. And holding her ground, stubborn as she’d always been.
He watched as she got in her car, one hand waving from the window as she pulled away.
The last time he’d watched Holly leave was over four years ago now, on Pleasant Beach.
Seeing her here today, in his new place of work, felt strangely personal.
Holly wasn’t the only one with things to think about.