32. Marnie
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Marnie
I’m laser-focused on the tools in front of me, so much so that I can’t be bothered to feel self-conscious about the massive magnifier head lamp strapped to my forehead. My fingers carefully work the wire around the piece of light blue sea glass in my hands, and I let out a contented sigh.
With the crazy hours I’ve been working lately, I needed a day off to relax. I’ve never taken a personal day before, but this summer has been full of firsts. First time solo planning an exhibit, first time bridge jumping, first time falling for a coworker . . . of sorts.
I wanted to spend my day doing something new, so walking the beach, reading a book, or bed rotting with a scary movie playing were out of the question since those are my usual go-tos.
I almost gave up hope on an idea, until I remembered the sea glass that I collected with Caleb during our first date and my intention to turn them into a wind chime or decorative curtain.
The cottage needs a new personal touch, and it will be something I can take home with me when the summer is over as a memento of my time here.
I normally consider myself a creative person given my line of work, but crafting is not a requirement, and therefore I have very little experience in that field.
So, I took Caleb’s suggestion and went to Parker for help.
I explained my vision and showed him the pieces I had to see if it was even possible to do.
Parker loaned me a pair of pliers from the jewelry store after showing me how to shape the wire around each piece. He made it look so effortless and didn’t laugh when it took me a dozen attempts to wrap it in a way that the sea glass wouldn’t fall right out of the wire.
Hence, the head lamp. Parker insisted that it would be easier to wrap each piece if I could see it at a closer angle. It took me another dozen attempts to get used to the new perspective, but once I adjusted, I was on a roll.
Feeling confident in my new wire wrapping abilities, I stopped at the craft store on my way home to pick up silver wire, rings, and twine.
My supplies are spread out around me as I sit at the kitchen island.
I start by wrapping the wire around each piece of sea glass. I appreciate the tedious repetition. The motions are the same, but each piece holds a different shape and thickness, giving them all a unique appearance.
Once all the pieces are wrapped, I lay them out and play with the combinations until I settle on my favorite. Seven strands containing eight to ten pieces of varying sizes, shapes, and colors.
My playlist ends, queuing the random curated list of songs that my music library suggests for me, and Fleetwood Mac starts playing from the speaker on the counter.
I’m adding the last of the rings to their wires when the song changes to “Go Your Own Way.” I stop mid-twist, really listening to the words echoing through the cottage. Different context, same message.
Has the answer been in front of me this entire time?
This feels like a sign from the universe. Maybe I do need to consider parting ways with Irene.
Caleb has already asked me to stay, and even though I know he would support my decision to go back to Boston, I already admitted that I’m happier here.
People are kind here. They look out for one another, exchange favors.
In the city, everything is so individualized and cutthroat. The difference is stark and unnerving.
What’s the harm in throwing my hat in the ring? Josie told me she had expected me to apply, so that had to be a good sign, right?
I let myself think of the possibilities. Maybe this could actually work.
Setting down the pliers and turning off the music, I dial Gwen’s number. I need a fresh, outsider’s perspective. She knows Irene, but she doesn’t work for her, and she’s heard enough about Caleb and Josie over the last few months to be able to weigh the pros and cons of both.
Gwen picks up on the second ring. “Hey,” she exclaims. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” I confirm. “Can I pick your brain about something?”
I hear rustling in the background, and I know she’s just tossed all her throw pillows onto the ground and flopped onto the couch, giving our conversation her full, undivided attention. “Anything.”
“There’s a curator position opening here on the island . . . and I want to apply.” Silence hangs on the other end of the line a beat too long. “Gwen?” I prompt.
“I’m here. That’s just a lot to take in. That’s not where I expected this call to go.”
Now it’s my turn to be silent. My hands turn fidgety and I pick the pliers back up to give them something to fixate on, twisting the wires a bit too tightly.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she continues, “I’m happy for you. I knew one day we might end up in different cities. I just didn’t think it would happen this soon.”
My stomach dips at her words, a pang of regret filling my chest. “I know, but this is exactly the kind of opportunity I’ve been working so hard for. I would jump right into the role rather than another in-between one like the promotion I’m currently competing for. This is too good to pass up.”
“Does this have anything to do with a certain contractor you’ve been spending time with?”
“No . . . at least not entirely. This is a really good opportunity for me.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
“Irene,” I mutter. “I was going to call her sometime this week and tell her, so long as you don’t think I’m completely crazy for considering this.”
“I would never think you were crazy for doing something for yourself,” she says, her tone turning serious. “If you want this job, go for it.”
My head nods at her reassuring words even though I know she can’t see me.
“Let me know how that conversation goes when you call her.”
“I will,” I promise her. Three votes of confidence can convince me to find the courage to talk to Irene. First Josie, now Gwen, and I know Caleb won’t hesitate to agree.
“Okay, now no more talk of Irene,” she states, changing the subject. “What are you up to?”
“Right now, I’m working on a fun project and then tonight I’m going to Caleb’s to celebrate his birthday.”
“Ooh,” she coos. “So, it’s getting serious then?”
“It’s just a movie night.”
“Will his friends be there?”
I hesitate. “No.”
“Then it is getting serious.”
“I’m sure they were just busy tonight. There’s no way his friends wouldn’t want to be there to celebrate his birthday.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Marn.”
We spend the next half hour on the phone as I add the finishing touches and hang my new windchime on the porch overlooking the ocean. I feel accomplished at finishing this craft and still having enough time to put the rest of the desserts in the oven and get ready before heading over to Caleb’s.
I’m flipping through the movie selections, overwhelmed by the number of choices. Caleb is being indecisive and is refusing to pick a movie, no matter how many options I present him.
“It’s your birthday, you pick the movie.”
“It’s not technically my birthday yet, so I have no obligation to choose the movie.”
We are celebrating his birthday a week early since he will be out of town on his actual birthday to pick up some of the custom exhibit pieces that were printed off island.
“That’s not how this works.”
“Everything sounds good. I have no objections to any of them.”
“Everything sounds good? Even The Princess Bride?”
“First of all, I happen to love The Princess Bride. Linny forced me and Parker to watch it all the time growing up. Second, I meant it when I said I’ll watch anything.”
“What about Pride & Prejudice?”
“Don’t kill me . . . I’ve never seen it. But I like the girl who likes Pride & Prejudice, so if you say it’s good, then I know I’ll love it.” He places a soft kiss to my neck. “I’m just happy you’re here. That’s all the gift I need.”
I reluctantly untangle myself from Caleb’s arms and head to the kitchen for a bag of popcorn while he queues up the movie.
I’m watching the bag rotate in circles when Caleb comes up behind me. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist, pressing me against the counter. He drops his head and plants a kiss on my shoulder, working his way up to my neck.
I sigh and lean back into him, savoring the way our bodies fit together so effortlessly. “Keep your penny. They’re the same thoughts I’ve been having all week.”
“Still thinking about the job?”
“I’m just worried about what Irene will say.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” My hands move to his forearms, fingers tracing up and down the expanse of muscles. “No work-talk tonight.” I turn myself in his arms to face him and he drops his forehead to mine. “Tonight is about you.”
“Well, if you want to talk about it, you know I’m here. I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do. I just want you to be happy.”
“You make me happy,” I say, pushing up onto my tiptoes to meet his lips in a soft kiss.
He keeps his forehead pressed to mine and smiles against my mouth. “Thank you for this. For spending tonight with me.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply. Everything is so easy with him. It solidifies my desire to stay.
The microwave timer goes off, and I empty the contents into a large glass bowl. Caleb scoops up the dessert tray, bringing it over our pile of blankets and pillows. We settle back onto the couch, and he presses play on the remote. “And thank you for the lovely array of desserts.”
Twenty-six different miniature desserts for turning twenty-six. It was probably overkill, but I wanted to make sure I covered all my bases to ensure he had plenty to choose from since Linny clued me in that he didn’t like traditional birthday cake.
“What are you in the mood for?” I inquire, trying to decide between a chocolate truffle and a lemon square.
He sweeps my hair to the side, baring my neck to him. “You.”
I give him a playful shove but let him pull me into his lap, straddling his hips. He drags his hands from my thighs up to rest on my waist, giving a firm squeeze. “Although, if that mini blueberry pie is half as good as that last one you made, you might have some competition.”
My hands find the back of his neck, toying with the ends of his hair. “I have a question.”
He gazes up at me with an earnest expression. “Ask away,” he whispers.
“Why is blueberry pie your favorite dessert?” I ask, tracing small circles against his skin, feeling him relax beneath my touch. “You told me it was your favorite early on when we first met, but you never said why.”
He’s silent for a few beats. “It was my mom’s favorite. She believed that anything could be cured with a warm, homemade blueberry pie.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “It’s also why I love Berry’s namesake so much.”
My heart twists.
His hands move from my waist to settle on the curve of my ass. “But right now, the blueberry pie is taking second place behind you.”
A small laugh bursts out of me, and I lower my head to his and kiss him again.
His tongue meets mine, and I roll my hips into him, eliciting a low moan.
The sound reverberates down my spine and goes straight to my core.
The opening credits start rolling, but we find a new way to celebrate Caleb’s birthday instead, too consumed in each other to pay any attention to the movie.