29. Ben #2
“Time?”
“What time are you picking her up? Because she hasn’t left this room in days, and she’s driving us…” He glanced at Holly.
“Tread lightly,” she warned.
“To drink more than usual,” Linus said.
Ben took it as an in. “Seven o’clock?”
“I really can’t,” Holly began, but he could see beneath the fatigue and the grime her resolve was fading. She needed this. And he wanted to give it to her.
Linus cleared his throat. “She’ll be ready and waiting on the porch. Now, if you don’t mind, we could use some strong arms with those green couches.”
“I should have known.” Holly halted in front of the Impudent Oyster. “Very sneaky. How’d you get a reservation so last minute?”
“Let’s just say we have a shellfish relationship.”
She laughed. “Of course you do.”
It was different, seeing Holly out of the inn, and being out together, just the two of them. “You know, I think this is our first grownup date,” he said, once they were seated in a cozy corner.
“Is this a first date?” He wasn’t sure if she was teasing or serious—if she was emphasizing the first part of things or the date part.
“I hope so,” he said.
“We’ve had many dates,” she reminded him. “Over many years.”
“Sure. To movie theaters and ice cream parlors, and a few bars before we went separate ways.”
“You mean before I broke up with you.” She winked. It was true. Holly had been the one to end their relationship the first time, after high school graduation and before they both left for college. She didn’t want the long distance to ruin all the good years behind them, she’d said.
“You broke my heart.”
“You joined a fraternity and had a new girlfriend by Thanksgiving.”
Ben thought back. “Christmas.”
She kicked him playfully under the table.
“Seriously, we were still kids. Even when we got back together the summer between college and me going to law school. We could never afford to go to a place like this.”
Holly groaned. “I still can’t, with everything at the inn.”
“Still. We’ve come a long way.” He reached across the table for her hand. “I’m glad we’re here.”
Holly smiled. “Me, too.”
They ordered too much food, and he was glad they did.
They started with a bottle of Sancerre. There was mussels Bangkok in coconut curry.
Shrimp-and-scallion-crusted local sea bass in a smoked tomato mignonette.
Swordfish piccata over fresh cavatelli. Grilled summer vegetables and mesclun.
They took turns taking bites and tasting and eventually swapped plates, midway through, everything was so unbelievably delicious.
When their courses were cleared, the server returned.
“I’m not a dessert person,” Holly told him, then ordered crème br?lée.
“I’m not letting you go home yet,” Ben announced when they staggered out, two hours later, bellies full and still laughing over stories they’d reminisced about.
By then the sky was dark and the lights of downtown Chatham aglow.
The boutiques and galleries had closed on Main, but the sidewalks were still full of ice cream and penny candy seekers, and a lively crowd lined up outside the Squire Tavern.
“They’re all college kids,” Holly resisted, when he pulled her in its direction.
“Nonsense.”
Inside, the old tavern was filled to the gills.
“I haven’t been in here in years,” Holly shouted, pointing out the banged-up license plates and nautical signs still hanging on the rustic woodwork.
There were the old dart boards and pool table in the back.
A guitar player was setting up in the corner.
“Nothing’s changed.” Holly was right about the crowd.
Ben ordered a pitcher of beer and they found a small high-top tucked in a corner.
“Got to love how unpretentious this place is,” Ben said.
“I think it’s cozy,” Holly told him. They shared a beer, then another, talking about work and the ways in which Chatham had changed since they were kids. “So many of the old cottages are gone,” she said. “Especially by the beaches. They’ve been replaced with big hulking summer homes.”
“It’s why I’m glad my folks have hung on to theirs,” he agreed. “There’s something about the character of an older beach house, humble as it might be.”
And then Holly switched the subject. “It was nice, the other day,” she said, eyes narrowing playfully. “The kissing.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “It was.”
“We’ve shared some good ones over the years. But that—I don’t know. Somehow it felt different.”
Ben knew what she meant.
“I’ve been so focused on the inn, I haven’t had time for a personal life.” She ran her hands through her hair, her expression changing at the mention of work. “It’s all-consuming, and that’s the way it has to be. You know what I mean?”
They were both consumed with work, new work that required all their effort and energy. There were limitations that came with that, and boundaries, too. “Starting up a business, taking over a business—we’re both in the same boat with that. It doesn’t leave much for anything else.”
“It’s nice to have someone who understands that.”
He knew Holly didn’t seem to have any friends outside the inn, though he’d wondered about a personal life. He also knew she’d have no trouble if she had the time or desire for one. It seemed timing was tripping them up, once more.
“So what happened?” Holly asked, pulling her chair in closer.
“To what?”
“To you. Your marriage.” Here we go, he thought. He’d been waiting for it, and he was ready.
There was nothing to hide, no big ugly secret. “We were married to our careers more than each other,” he said simply. “Laura was great, but we weren’t great together.”
When Holly looked skeptical, he went on. “I realized all our friends were getting pregnant and starting families. Laura started to hint. But I didn’t want that,” he admitted.
Holly sat back. “You don’t want a family?”
“I didn’t with her.”
As he spoke, Ben realized this all may have been a mistake. Being out with Holly, taking her on a first date. Examining their shared past and also their separate ones. He was going back to Providence. His life and work was there, and now, hers was here.
“It broke my heart,” she said suddenly. “That day at the dock, when you told me you’d met someone.” Her gaze slid away from his.
“Holls. I’m sorry, I had no idea.”
She held up a hand. “Don’t be. It sounds silly, especially now. We’d both been seeing other people and doing our own things. I guess deep down I always thought that somehow we’d circle back to each other. You know?”
The truth was, Ben did know. The thought of them ending up together had occurred to him, on and off over the years.
But then he went to law school, where he met Laura, and then they both got jobs in Providence, and moved in together.
His life seemed to unfold for him, without effort or thought, and soon they’d arrived at that stage where friends were getting married and buying houses, and so that seemed like the next logical step for them, too.
It was like riding a train that stopped at each station, and because the ride was comfortable, Ben just stayed on.
He didn’t give much thought to the final destination.
By then the years had slipped between him and Holly, so that she seemed a distant memory; an old friend he’d always have in the background. He wished he’d thought harder about his choices then. He wished he’d looked at her a little harder, too. All that time, she was right there.
“I wonder what would have happened if we’d reconnected sooner,” he said now.
Holly shrugged. “Timing,” she said, taking a sip of her beer, “can be friend or foe.”
As they talked, a band had set up. They listened to the first set, Ben enjoying how into the music she got.
When the pitcher was empty Holly got up. “Time to go?” he asked.
“I’m getting us another.” She winked. “My treat.”
He laughed, taken aback. She’d started the night yawning and apologizing for it.
Now she seemed to be just getting started.
Ben found it hard to listen when she talked, he was so taken.
Her cheeks were glowing, and every time she laughed she tilted her head in a way that caused her blond hair to spill over her shoulder.
He wanted to kiss her. But he hadn’t told her about Providence yet.
He was about to say something, when a new song started.
It was “Brown Eyed Girl.” Holly hopped up, and pulled him onto the floor.
As others with the same thought joined them in the small space by the band, the crowd pushed them together.
Holly threw her arms around his neck and sang aloud to the lyrics.
The beer and the night and the girl had gotten to him, and Ben found himself pulled in.
Hours later, they walked down Main, arm in arm. Though they’d switched to water at his suggestion, Holly was still punchy. While they waited to cross the street, she rested her head against his shoulder, and the weight of her was familiar and comforting.