Beach Rental(16)

The girl who had no dreams, now had opportunity with a capital O—and an obligation to do right by her husband, the man whose loneliness and approaching death made hope possible.





Chapter Five



In the morning, Juli overslept. She hadn’t slept this late since—maybe never. She rushed out of bed and into the shower. Was she keeping Ben waiting? She pulled on her jeans and was still buttoning her shirt as she unlocked her bedroom door—at just about the same moment as his door opened on the other side of the hall.

They emerged from their separate rooms like congenial acquaintances who, by chance, exit their hotel rooms at the same time.

“Did you sleep well?”

She nodded. “Yes, very.”

“Ready for breakfast? I think I told you last night, I have somewhere special in mind.”

Conversation was sparse. Awkwardness was abundant. Ben drove them across the bridge into Morehead City, then across the bridge to Beaufort.

The wind-buffeted water was choppy far below. As they passed over each bridge, Juli stared at the whitecaps as if she’d never seen such things before. It was a reprieve from conversation. When Ben cleared his throat she looked at him, but didn’t push it when he failed to speak. He parked in a public lot and they walked quietly down the street past several stores.

They brunched at a restaurant overlooking the waterfront. When the food arrived and they started eating, Ben caught her eye. She took a sip of water. “Yes?”

“When you said there was no one you wanted to invite to the marriage ceremony, I thought maybe you didn’t want your family and friends to know, but now I’m wondering.”

“I told you about my childhood. I grew up in foster homes.”

“Not even any extended family?”

“What’s this with you and food? Or is it being in a restaurant that gets you curious?” She tried to keep her tone light but warn him off at the same time.

“Have you stayed in touch with any of them? The foster families?”

“No. They did what they did for their own reasons. I tried to keep my part of the bargain by not being a problem child. It was a business relationship.”

Ben sat in silence for a moment, then leaned forward to say, “I know there’s payment to cover some of the care, but a business arrangement? There are people who take in foster children because they want to help. There are. I know there are.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure you’re right and sometimes the chemistry perks, but it wasn’t like that for me. They weren’t cruel, they didn’t mistreat me, but I wasn’t any more interested in getting close to them than they were in getting close to me.”

“Because your mother abandoned you? When you were five, you said? And that first foster family practically did the same two years later?”

“This is ridiculous. I’m used to being on my own. Maybe it will change someday, but I’m better alone. I always have been.” She heard the careless stupidity of the words as she spoke them. She searched Ben’s face. Did he think she was talking about the two of them? Their arrangement?

The waitress placed the check on the table beside Ben’s plate. Juli was glad of the distraction. He scanned the numbers, and then slipped some bills from his wallet. He left the money lying there on the tablecloth.

Juli stared at the cash. Someone could snatch it as soon as they turned their backs to leave—before the waitress could return for it. Ben should at least put the small stack under the edge of a plate. She waited and watched him. He showed no concern.

She decided to copy his attitude. Juli folded her napkin and laid it on the table next to her plate. Ben stood behind her to pull out her chair, an unexpected act, but it was her own response that surprised her. She felt special, warm and tingly, and the smile that grew in her heart appeared on her face. Ben took her hand as she rose. The other diners smiled at them and admiring eyes watched them as they passed by on their way to the exit. Everyone loves lovers, right? Juli enjoyed it, grateful no one knew the truth.

Ben led her out of the restaurant and down the sidewalk. The traffic was still light because it was barely May, but it wouldn’t be long before tourism was in full swing. They jay-walked across the road. Ben moved ahead and she followed along, grabbing peeks through plate glass display windows until they stopped at the Front Street Gallery. She recognized the name from Ben’s card.

The gallery building was the first in a long row of shops and restaurants, situated between the block of shops and a house that was probably no longer a residence. It was set further back from the road than the other businesses and not attached to the row. It gave it distinction, sort of set it apart from the rest.