Snowflake Bay Page 7

  “Why is it everyone is worried about poor Beanie? Let me tell you, that woman didn’t build that place into the best little quilt shop in the state of Maine by not understanding how to run a business. She drove a hard bargain. And here I thought dealing with vendors in the Fashion District in New York had immunized me to tough talk. She’s no lightweight.”

  “Maybe she should have been the one to head to the city and take Manhattan by storm,” Kerry said. “I bet she could have, too. One fat quarter at a time.”

  Both sisters laughed at that.

  “So,” Kerry said as she pulled two wineglasses out from under the bar. “Who is ‘ever yone’?”

  “What?” Fiona asked, momentarily distracted by the stemware. “Why are you getting out wineglasses?”

  “Today they’re going to be champagne glasses,” she said with a grin. “To toast your new enterprise.”

  “But—”

  She frowned. “No buts. And I was asking who else was worried about Beanie.”

  “Eula asked if Beanie was sure about putting her business up for sale.”

  “Are Eula and Beanie friends? I didn’t think Eula had actual friends. Not because she couldn’t have them, I suppose—she just isn’t exactly the girlfriend type, you know? So who else was worried about Beanie, and is it possible that’s where that little glow you have is coming from?”

  Fiona waited for her to take a breath, then said, “My glow, if I have one—”

  “Like a ninety-watt halogen bulb,” Kerry put in, her smile wry now.

  “—is because I finally took the big plunge. Today is the first day of my new life. The real first day. Of my new business life.”

  “Which is great. And why we’re going to have a toast. So who else is worried about Beanie?”

  Fiona didn’t want to share her Ben moment, because no one else would understand that it had been A Moment. Besides, it was all hers. To savor, recall at will, and wallow in as needed. “I went to Eula’s to talk about incorporating some of her pieces into my studio decor, but having them there on consignment rather than buying them outright, so it would be promoting her place, in return for her doing some promoting of my new business. When I got there, Ben Campbell also happened to be there and—”

  Kerry hooted almost as loudly as she had when Fiona had announced she’d bought herself a business.

  “What was that for?” Fiona asked, determined to hold on to her happy mood no matter what Kerry said. The youngest McCrae sister was the brazen, outspoken one, and not always—okay, hardly ever—one to concern herself with how her comments might be taken by their intended recipient. “He asked if Beanie had made plans for what she’d be doing now that she wasn’t a shopkeeper any longer. Then you asked about her, too, so I was just setting the record straight, that’s all.

  “If anyone should be worried about one of us being swindled, that concern should be for me,” Fiona went on, smoothly shifting the topic away from Ben. “For someone who looks like the warmest and cuddliest grandma ever, Beanie was not shy about getting what she wanted. And from one female business owner to another, I’m glad she was like that, because then I felt like it was an honest deal struck between two business-savvy women. Trust me when I say that, whatever her plans are for the future, Beanie Whittaker will be just fine, thank you very much.”

  Kerry nodded her way through Fiona’s little speech and barely waited for the last word to leave her mouth before saying, “So, what’s going on with you and Ben Campbell?”

  Fiona gaped, then snapped her mouth shut. She wanted to rush in and deny, deny, deny, which would have been the truth, because there wasn’t anything going on between them. But Kerry was like a dog with a bone when she thought she was on to something. She had always been the one to ferret out what Santa was bringing them for Christmas, never leaving it alone until she’d figured it out. And, of course, spoil it for her siblings in a crow of triumph once she had, because she thought for sure they’d want to know, too. She never could seem to understand that some folks actually liked to be surprised Christmas morning.

  Well, Fiona wasn’t about to try to explain her Ben Campbell moment to anyone, much less her pit bull of a sister, so she took a different tack. Fi had watched Hannah handle Kerry over the years and was proud of herself for taking a page from the lawyer’s handbook and not making her typical knee-jerk response. “What makes you think there’s anything going on between me and Ben?”

  Kerry waggled a finger at her. “Don’t play cross-examiner with me. You’re no good at it.”

  Fiona did the only mature thing possible: she stuck her tongue out.

  “Careful where you stick that,” Kerry said, pretending to swipe and snag it. “Mongoose might get it.” She walked over to the large, glass-front cooler and fished behind a few bottles, then pulled out a dark black one. “All I know is Hannah and Alex were in here earlier, all googly-eyed over fonts for wedding invitations, and she might have said something about you being all pissy with Ben over him calling you Fireplug. You know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. Not now, at least. I mean, he—”

  “Yes, yes, he’s St. Ben the Benevolent. Never hurt a fly, rescuer of parents, all-around fabulous human being, Ben Campbell,” Fiona said, already mentally kicking herself for letting both of her sisters get to her. Again.

  Kerry simply arched a brow at that, then expertly popped the cork on the champagne, and laughed as the foam ran over her hands and all over her nice clean bar.

  “It’s not even noon yet,” Fiona said. “And isn’t that the same champagne we had at Alex and Logan’s wedding?”

  “It’s toast time o’clock,” Kerry said in response, “and yes, I pilfered it from the reception.”

  “You can’t pilfer a bottle of champagne you—or Fergus—technically bought in the first place.”

  “Oh my God, are you going to be a buzzkill even on your own big day?” She poured them each a glass and was not modest about it.

  “I’m not a buzzkill, I’m just saying—”

  “Here,” Kerry said, picking up one glass and handing it to Fiona. “Drink.” She raised her own glass and said, “To my other super-responsible sister for continuing her mission to kick interior design ass, now in two states, and soon right in your very own backyard. Salute!” And with that, she tossed back the entire glass of champagne in one easy slide.

  Fiona still held her glass in one hand, her mouth half open as she watched Kerry. “I don’t even want to know how you can shotgun an entire glass of champagne without even so much as a hiccup. It’s supposed to be sipped.”

  “It’s supposed to be enjoyed,” Kerry said, with a pointed gaze at Fiona’s own glass. “Bottoms up, shopkeeper.”

  Fiona took one sip, then, at Kerry’s frown, gave her an oh-for-God’s-sake look, and made her way to the bottom of her glass, too, albeit in several gulps.

  “And you’re right, Mama Hen,” Kerry added with a wink. “You definitely don’t want to know.”

  Fiona’s head was pleasantly fizzy and she smiled at Kerry’s pet name for her. That one she didn’t mind so much, not because Kerry said it with any less annoyance than Ben did his, but because Fiona liked her role as the one who kind of held her siblings together. Hannah might be Mother Superior, but Fiona was mother confessor, problem solver, ego-picker-upper, and all-around keeper of the flame for both her sisters. And though Logan would likely deny it until he was old and gray, she’d been that for him more times than either could count as well. They might see it as her being the family worrier, always clucking over them, but it made her feel good, keeping tabs on how they were all doing, knowing that her family was okay.

  She was also the resident peacekeeper, so she wasn’t going to take the bait Kerry had so temptingly dangled in front of her. If Hannah thought her reaction to Ben’s nickname made her pissy, so what? Fiona smiled and nudged her glass toward Kerry. She had her Ben moment now. So none of it mattered so much anymore.

  “Okay, so maybe not so much cat and can
ary as cat and a bowl of nice, warm cream,” Kerry said, giving her a considering look. “What exactly happened at Eula’s? Did you tell him what you thought of his pet name for you and chop his Campbell Christmas tree down to size?” She poured them both more champagne and leaned on the counter, keeping close enough so only Fiona heard her, though there were only three other people in the bar at that hour, and they were back at one of the two pool tables. “And have you ever spent any time wondering just how, um, stout and tall his pine might be?”

  Fiona all but sprayed the sip of bubbly she’d just taken. “What?” she spluttered, certain she hadn’t heard Kerry correctly, even as she knew she had.

  “Why is it you, Hannah, and Logan think I’m still twelve? And even then, I have to say, am I the only one who wasn’t already actively thinking about his, um, pine, even then? How am I a member of this family? You’re all a bunch of Goody Two-shoes. Or I thought you were. Now Logan’s getting some regularly with Alex, and Hannah with Calder.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “And you’ve got something going with our very own Ben Campbell. I know I’m right.”

  So much for not actively denying it. “First of all, ew. Do you really need to discuss the sex lives of our siblings?” She folded her arms on the bar, mostly so she would stay steady on the stool. She was only pleasantly fizzy, nothing more, but better to be safe. “I can state, with absolutely no equivocation, that there is nothing going on between me and Ben. No, I did not chop down his tree. And also? Ew for that, too. Shame on you. He’s like your brother.”

  “He’s not our brother. Not even our cousin. And as if you never looked at Ben Campbell and wondered, even for a moment . . .” Her words trailed off as her eyes narrowed on Fiona, then widened with absolute glee. She hooted again, and both of them heard a string of curse words float up from the pool table area as somebody had apparently missed their shot at her outburst.

  “Sorry,” Kerry called out. “Free round later.”

  She grinned as a cheer rang out from the pool table, then turned right back to Fiona. “So, there isn’t anything going on now with Ben . . . but you’ve wondered about his pine. I think you want his pine. In fact, I think you want to—”

  “Stop it,” Fiona hissed. She’d just wanted to hold on to her Ben moment and savor it in the privacy of her own, formerly rejected schoolgirl mind. Was that too much to ask? Apparently so. She put her glass back on the bar. Her pleasant fizziness abruptly dissolved. “I don’t want anything from Ben, least of all his—” She broke off, refusing to take that particular euphemism a single syllable further. “Yes, it’s true. I didn’t like hearing that nickname again. I hated it back then, and no matter what the intent behind it, I’m not a big fan of it now. But then anything designed to belittle someone and make them feel badly about themselves is never going to get a rousing cheer from me. You were always in his good graces, though I’ll never understand why, when you were the actual bratty little kid around him, not me. And of course Hannah could do no wrong in his eyes, so it’s easy for you both to say that it was all in good fun and no harm meant.”

  Looking utterly abashed, Kerry reached her hand out toward her sister. “Fi, don’t. He’s—”

  Fiona pulled her arm out of reach. And to her absolute horror and the utter ruination of the fabulous good mood she’d been in upon entering her family’s pub, she felt her eyes sting. What was it about Ben Campbell that always made her end up in tears? She wasn’t even hurt—she was pissed off, dammit. “He’s family, I know. And we’re all grown-ups now, so you’re right, it shouldn’t matter. It was all a long, long time ago. We were all kids. Blah, blah, blah. But some things don’t have an expiration date. And how that nickname made me feel is apparently one of them. Especially coming from the one guy who, at the time, I wanted to see me as anything but a fireplug.” There, she’d said it. All but shouted it, actually. “So you’ll have to forgive me if I still don’t find being called short, fat, and red all that sweet or amusing.”

  “No, Fi—wait!” Kerry made a grab for her arm, but she’d already scooped up her coat from the bar and slid off the stool. “I tried to warn you. He’s—”

  Standing right behind her. Of course he was.

  Fiona stood there, already angry that she’d let herself be provoked enough to blurt out something she’d held as a carefully guarded secret for, well, forever. She’d just wanted to make it all stop. She’d been savoring her private little victory, with the whole childhood ridiculousness put in its proper place once and for all with that one stunned and very male look on Ben Campbell’s handsome face. Bon voyage, childhood humiliation, sorry to see ya go, don’t let the door hit ya on the way back to yesteryearville.

  But what the heck, why not just put it out there, once and for all, so everybody could just shut up about it? It wasn’t like she could be made to feel any worse at this point, right?

  Wrong. So mortifyingly, stupidly, I’ll-never-stop-being-thirteen-again, wrong. Maybe it was true, what they said about you couldn’t go home again. For the first time, she thought maybe she’d made a huge, giant mistake in leaving the city on some misguided mission to find her way back to herself, to who she’d wanted to be when she grew up. Lucky you figured that out after you just bought yourself a new business.

  Yep, she was lucky, all right.

  “Fiona,” was all he said, but the look on his face said a million things more. All of them awful, because each one of them started with pity and ended with embarrassment. For her, most likely.

  And all she could think was, she’d gotten her moment. That victorious, full-circle moment every kid who’s ever been made to feel bad wanted. And she’d been good with that. Pathetically so, maybe, but good. Giddy, even. Ready and willing to bury the past, the score all evened up.

  Instead, the look she’d remember forever was the one on his face right now. This was to be her moment. Why had she ever assumed it would be any different? The joke, it seemed, was always going to be on her.

  She threw her coat over her arm and grabbed her purse and gloves, careful not to look at either her sister or Ben. She was merely thankful that the pump of adrenaline she’d gotten first from popping off at Kerry and then again upon seeing Ben standing right there behind her, where he’d obviously overheard her every stupid word, had smacked whatever effect too much champagne might have had right out of her. Because at least she didn’t wobble so much as a step as she strode by him on her way out the door.

  Chapter Seven

  Ben hauled the freshly strapped tree off the baler and tossed it onto the stack already piled on the big flatbed trailer presently hooked to the back of one of the company trucks. Then he turned and grabbed the next one as it was fed through the machine. He dragged that one down the chute and ran the cut end through the chain saw to shorten it, then tossed the bundle in the truck. He and three of Campbell Farm’s seasonal hires had been at this since before sun-up that morning. It was presently just after noon and a balmy twenty-two degrees in Snowflake Bay . . . and despite being able to think of little else as he went through motions so ingrained he’d often thought he could make them blindfolded and sleeping, he still had no idea what to do about Fiona McCrae.

  “Hey, boss!”

  At the shout, Ben looked up to see Tommy, one of the seasonal hires, motioning to the dirt road that led from the main farmhouse out into the fields, lined with row upon row of carefully trimmed pine trees. Ben waved him to cut off the baler: then, with the sudden silence ringing in his ears, he turned to look where Tommy was pointing. “Well, shit.”

  If he made a list of all the things he could ever expect to see at Campbell Christmas Tree Farm, Annalise Manderville wouldn’t be anywhere on it. He watched in disbelief as she stepped out of a bright yellow Land Rover in boots that probably cost more than the new tree-netting machine he was contemplating buying for the farm. “What in the hell?” he murmured. After all this time, he couldn’t fathom what she could possibly want with him, and had even less of a clue why it would require an
in-person visit. Several state lines away from their respective homes in Rhode Island.

  He’d already been so distracted by the very unfortunate and humiliating scene he’d witnessed two days earlier at the Rusty Puffin—the humiliation part being completely his own—that it was hard to switch mental gears once again to deal with this completely new, but potentially equally perplexing brain twister.

  He turned back to Tommy. “Call Frankie over here and keep baling. We have to get this truck loaded and out by three. I want to get this trailer in the Cove and unloaded tonight. I’ve got help coming to start setting up the lot in the morning.”

  “You need help with the unloading? I have a family thing tonight, but I could get out of it if you need me, too.”

  Given the hopeful expression on the college student’s face, the prospect of unloading a trailer bed of trees in the dark in what would likely be near zero or sub-zero temps, was apparently a better option than whatever this “family thing” was. He hated to dash the kid’s hopes, but he shook his head. “I’ve got it under control, and I need you here in the morning to get the next batch baled so we can get another trailer to Machiasport.” Plus, he was hoping to use the night in the Cove to figure out what to say to Fiona. Even if she’d rather he simply never showed his face around her ever again.

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  “It’s Ben,” he reminded the gangly young man as he hustled off to follow his instructions.

  “That’s a ten-four, boss,” Tommy said over his shoulder with a grin, the tousled blond curls sticking out from under his wool knit cap dancing in the wind as he loped out toward the fields, where several other seasonal hires were cutting trees.

  Ben grinned back at him, shaking his head. Most of the kids who came to work for Campbell’s during the holidays, as well as over the summer when it was grooming and, afterwards, planting season, had been coming to the farm for their family Christmas trees since they were old enough to walk. Some earlier than that, strapped in papooses on their parents’ backs. So they took a special pride in working for the place that held such great memories for them. Ben had been considering that as he’d been contemplating what he was going to do about his sudden inheritance.