29. Marnie
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Marnie
Thursday arrived sooner than expected. Caleb has been on edge all week. Each passing day brought him closer to tonight, and I tried not to bring it up. I knew this dinner was going to be tough for him, and he needed my support, not me adding to the tension.
Caleb was in the kitchen preparing tonight’s menu when I arrived. Seared fluke—caught fresh this morning—with potatoes, green beans, asparagus, and an unopened bottle of Pinot Blanc. He didn’t tell me the significance of this particular meal, but deep down, I knew it was special to his mom.
Hoping to add a bit of cheer to the evening, I brought over a homemade blueberry pie. I remember him mentioning it earlier this summer at the Flying Horses and thought he could use some comfort food, even if it happened to be a dessert.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” he says as I enter the kitchen.
I hold out the pie to him, and a line of tears form in his eyes at the sight of it. “That’s perfect, actually.” He pulls me in for a deep kiss and sets the pie on the table.
“Do you need any help with the food?” I ask, following him back into the kitchen.
“It’s almost ready, but I could use a predinner glass of wine.”
I hop onto the counter and pour us each a glass, watching intently as he tends to the food. Something about the way he commands every space he’s in, no matter what he’s doing, is incredibly hot.
I admire the way his arms flex and relax with every movement and how his hair falls loosely into his face as he finishes searing the fish.
The doorbell rings and I feel a sudden wave of panic that I’m intruding. “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?”
Caleb sets the fish onto the serving plate and approaches. “Of course,” he assures me. “I’m really happy you decided to come.”
The worry subsides and I lean in to kiss his cheek. “I’m here for you no matter what.”
When he steps toward the door, I raise my palm to stop him. “Finish up what you’re doing. I’ve got it.”
He gives me a quick kiss in thanks and reaches for an oven mitt to check the potatoes.
Armed with my glass of wine, I head out of the kitchen as the doorbell rings again. There’s a broad figure perfectly framed by the glass panels of the front door. It feels eerily like that scene from 101 Dalmatians when Cruella is standing outside and all you see is her silhouette.
I reach for the handle and unlock the door, pulling it open to reveal Caleb’s father.
“Hi,” I greet him with as much kindness as I can muster.
I see the wheels start to turn in his mind as he puts the pieces together—as he starts to recognize me from that day I stopped by their building. I get a smug satisfaction when the realization hits him.
“Marnie.” I step back to let him in, offering my free hand in greeting, tucking the wine glass against my chest with the other.
“Rick,” he replies as he steps over the threshold, staring at my hand unimpressed before turning to address Caleb. “What is this? You know tonight is just supposed to be the two of us.”
Caleb reassures me with a look of adoration—the kind he saves just for me—and clenches his jaw as he glares back at his dad in annoyance. “She is important to me, and I want her here.” This tone is confident. Absolute. “We’ve been working closely on the Jaws exhibit this summer.”
His dad snorts in response, and stalks past me over to the dining room.
While Caleb is tending to the last of the vegetables, I grab another wine glass from the cabinet, retrieve the bottle from the counter, and top off our two glasses.
I have a feeling we are going to need a lot of wine to get through tonight.
One by one, Caleb brings over large plates of food and sets them on the center of the table.
“Food looks great. Just like how your mother used to cook it.”
“Thanks,” he mutters stiffly.
Rick is staring at me from across the table while we all fill our plates, unsure of what to say next.
I never told Caleb how his father and I met the day that I went to the shop to bring him coffee.
I really wasn’t sure how to bring it up, and frankly, with how on edge he’s been to mentally prepare for tonight, I didn’t think it was appropriate.
The meal starts off in silence until Rick finishes his food and he directs his attention toward me. “How is the exhibit coming along?”
“Good. We are about two weeks away from installation. The town is really excited about it. Every day we get more and more calls asking when it opens.”
Now his focus shifts to Caleb. “You seem to be enjoying the work, no?”
Caleb looks over at me, a lightness in his eye. “Yeah, I’ve had a great time working on this project.” He holds my gaze. “Marnie is incredibly talented.”
“Glad to hear it. Maybe we can make this a permanent arrangement, then. With the good publicity that the exhibit is going to draw, the business is going to get a lot more interest.” He swirls his wine and lifts his glass to take a sip.
“Maybe that’s the type of expansion we need. You could oversee that.”
Caleb holds his hands up, as if trying to stop the conversation’s change in direction. “Woah, that’s not what I?—”
“This is the perfect way for you to take on a bigger role in the business like we discussed.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Caleb’s knuckles turn white from gripping the silverware. “I never said I would take on a bigger role. We never finished that conversation, remember?”
“You’ve been so focused on this job, so invested. You’ve never shown this much interest in anything having to do with the family business. I just thought that meant you were finally coming around to the idea, not doing all this to impress some girl.”
“Watch it,” Caleb warns, his voice quiet but lethal.
His tone catches Rick off guard, but he recovers quickly. “Caleb, you’re almost twenty-six years old, it’s about damn time you grow up and start taking this business seriously.”
Protectiveness surges through me.
I know I shouldn’t intervene, but it’s so fucking hard to bite my tongue and listen to this. Caleb doesn’t need me to defend him, but he deserves to know that someone is in his corner. That I’m in his corner. “How is it that you know so little about your own son?”
Rick shoots daggers at me from across the table. “I know my son just fine,” he answers in a low voice.
“Clearly not,” I hiss. “Caleb is one of the kindest, hardest working people I know. He gives one hundred percent to everything and everyone.”
Rick leans forward, inching closer to Caleb, resting his arms on the table in challenge. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” He raises his voice with each word, and I know Caleb is moments away from unloading on him.
Right on cue, Caleb slams his silverware down on either side of his plate. A silence falls over the room.
“If you want to do this here and now, fine. Let’s have it out.
” Caleb reaches forward, takes a long swig of his wine, and sets it down again.
“No. I don’t want a bigger role in the business,” he states bluntly.
“You know I’ve never had any interest in taking over one day, and still you’ve forced the idea down my throat so much that I’ve grown to hate the idea of spending the rest of my life doing that.
The only reason I seem like I enjoy it now is because I’ve been working with Marnie.
It has everything to do with her and nothing to do with you. ”
“Then what do you plan to do instead?”
“Not that you ever asked, but I am sure you’ve heard since word travels fast around here, but I happen to own my own small business.
I sell plants and flowers from my greenhouse.
” Pride radiates from him. His dad purses his lips when he continues, not expecting to lose the upper hand.
“I have been for a few years now, and it’s gotten a lot of interest that I’ve had to turn down because of my obligations to you and the family business. ”
Across the table, there is no emotion on his father’s face aside from the clenching and unclenching of his jaw.
I lean forward to grab my wine and down half the glass in one gulp to avoid the growing tension in the room.
“What do you want me to say to that?” His father’s voice is dripping with venom. “You expect me to support you throwing away a stable career for what . . . a hobby?”
An unamused laugh falls from Caleb’s lips. “I don’t expect you to do anything. But Mom would’ve supported?—”
“Well, she isn’t here to give her input, is she?”
I can sense that Caleb is dangerously close to saying something he might regret.
My hand sneaks under the table and grabs his leg, giving it a firm squeeze.
His hand moves over mine, and when he interlaces our fingers together, I find the courage to speak up again.
“Just because you don’t understand or agree with something doesn’t mean it’s any less important or valuable.
Something that is important to Caleb should be important to you. ”
“This is a family matter. This doesn’t concern you,” he says coolly.
I’m about to respond when Caleb returns a squeeze of his own, clearing his throat and looking his father dead in the eye. “I think you should go.”
Rick looks between us with a confused expression, like he can’t believe his ears. He looks like he’s about to challenge the request, but I can feel the stare Caleb is giving him across the table and it’s not even aimed at me.
The chair screeches as his father stands abruptly, and we both watch in silence as he tosses his napkin on the table and walks out the door without another word.
Caleb lets out an audible sigh, sagging lower into his seat in defeat and lifting his hands to rub his temples. I reach out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He leans into the touch and smiles up at me briefly before scooting out his chair.