Tracy Solheim - Foolish Games

“We’re eating here?” Annabeth stared at the massive house she was sure she’d seen featured in a magazine somewhere.

“No. Out there.” He pointed to a gazebo out on the sand, one side enclosed by a brick wall complete with a fireplace; two of the other three sides were glass to shield it from the wind. Hank parked the golf cart in the small carport. “There’s a bathroom at the back there if you want to freshen up.” He pointed to a service entrance adjacent to the carport.

After Annabeth made use of the bathroom, she peeled off her sandals and walked out to the gazebo. A table was already set, complete with a linen tablecloth and silverware. Wine chilled in an ice-filled wine bucket.

“Obviously you’ve been here before.”

“Nope.” Hank pulled out a chair for her. “It’s just my reward for beating a friend of mine at golf yesterday.”

“You have some pretty wealthy friends.” Most of Annabeth’s friends picnicked in the sand.

Hank took the seat across from her. “I have lots of friends, Annabeth. Not all of them wealthy. But I grew up in that world. I won’t apologize for that.”

His words stung a bit. Had she become such a snob that she faulted him for his birthright?

Hank reached over and grasped her hand on the table. “This is supposed to be the perfect spot to catch the sunset. I brought you here so you could enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, not wanting to ruin the evening.

He poured wine into each of their glasses. “So now it’s your turn to tell me your story about your marriage.”

She nearly choked as she took a fortifying sip. “I . . . I was never married.”

Hank looked at her quizzically.

“Will.” Annabeth sighed. “He thinks he has to protect my reputation by telling everyone I was married to his father. I wasn’t.”

He pulled fried chicken out of the insulated basket, along with a container of Patricia McAlister’s homemade potato salad, mixed fruit, and a tray of double fudge brownies.

“All my favorites. You certainly did your research.”

“Your friend, Patricia. It only took a passing comment about needing a picnic basket and she took over.”

That meant that everyone in Chances Inlet knew she was out on the island with Hank Osbourne. Annabeth wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but since the man was leaving in a few days, she figured it didn’t matter. Suddenly, though, the thought of Hank being gone by the end of the weekend made her stomach ache. She took another sip of wine as he prepared a plate for each of them.

“So, you weren’t married? Ever?”

He’d been forthcoming with his story, so Annabeth didn’t feel right not sharing hers. “No. Will’s father was a brief fling. My one and only,” she added shyly. “He was a young nineteen-year-old Marine, in town with some buddies on their weekend leave from Camp Lejeune. I was the new girl in town. My parents had just died and I’d been here all summer but didn’t know a soul my own age. I guess you could say I was ripe for any kind of attention. For someone to tell me they’d love me forever. It was a couple of months before I even realized I was pregnant. By then, he had shipped out to God knows where.”

Annabeth took another gulp of wine. “It was the gym teacher who finally figured it out. Unfortunately, she wasn’t very discreet about it. She kept trying to coerce my grandmother into forcing me to give the baby up for adoption.”

“Why didn’t you?” He posed the question gently.

“My reputation was already in tatters. My parents were dead, and I barely knew my grandmother. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I wanted someone to love. Someone who was all mine and would love me back. I know it’s silly, but I’ve never once regretted my decision.”

Hank saluted her with his wineglass. “Silly is not a word I’d ever use to describe you, Annabeth. And I commend you for the job you’ve done with Will. I can’t imagine it was easy.”

It hadn’t been easy. But somehow, against all odds, her son had turned out well. A success.

“Did you ever try to find Will’s father? You didn’t have to do it all alone financially.”

“I did, when I finally discovered I was pregnant. I went to Camp Lejeune but was told he’d died in a friendly fire episode shortly after he deployed. There were no parents to contact because he’d apparently grown up in the foster care system. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was kind of glad he didn’t have any family. That way, I didn’t have to share Will with anyone. It was just me and my grandmother, and I couldn’t have given my son up.” A bemused sigh escaped her lips. “I guess I’m a lot like more like my daughter-in-law than I thought.”

She hadn’t realized she was crying until Hank reached across the table to wipe away a tear.

“Hey,” he said. “Why don’t we eat this delicious dinner your friend prepared and enjoy the sunset?”

As they ate their meal, Hank offered up the occasional anecdote from what he termed Sophie’s teenage drama. It was obvious he adored his daughter, and Annabeth wondered what it would have been like if Will had had a father who adored him as much.

The sunset was everything Hank promised. By the time they’d packed up their picnic and traversed the dark island back to the ferry, it was a chilly ride back. Still, she huddled on the outdoor deck, Hank’s arms around her, watching the lighthouse fade in the distance.

Once in Chances Inlet, Hank deposited the picnic basket back at the inn. Sophie had gone to the movies with Lynnette’s granddaughter and wouldn’t be back for another hour. They stopped at the Patty Wagon again for some lemonade before ambling through the back streets to Annabeth’s house.

Hank’s voice punctuated the darkness. “You know, Annabeth, you are a lot more than just Will’s mother. Or a shopkeeper in Chances Inlet. You can be whoever you want to be.”

They were fifty yards from Will’s house. She could see Julianne silhouetted in the window carrying Owen up the stairs. While Annabeth appreciated Hank’s confidence in her, she was comfortable in Chances Inlet. She’d made mistakes in her life, yet the town accepted her anyway. As one of its own. Her business and friends were here and that was enough for her. Reinventing herself somewhere else was just too much for Annabeth to take on. She didn’t know why Will, and now Hank, couldn’t understand. One thing she did know, she didn’t want this magical night to end.

Tugging on the hand he’d wrapped securely around hers, she pulled him deeper into the trees. When they were out of sight of the house, she stood on her toes and kissed him. It was a tentative kiss at first, until he took the reins and began kissing her back.

Hank leaned his back against a tree, pulling her in closer contact to his hard body. Annabeth sighed as she opened her mouth wider to give him better access. Her hands fisted in his shirt before he broke the kiss to push his glasses on top of his head.

She nuzzled his neck as his hands squeezed her backside. Their lips found one another again. One of them moaned, she wasn’t sure who.

Suddenly, the yard was flooded with lights.

“Who’s out there?” Will shouted from the verandah.

“Ah, hell,” Hank whispered. “Please tell me he doesn’t own a shotgun.”

Annabeth couldn’t help it, she laughed. Hank held her closer, but that only made her giggle harder. He chuckled along with her.

“Mom? Is that you out here?”

She could hear Will coming down the steps.

“Have dinner with me and Sophie tomorrow.” Hank whispered in her ear.

She nodded against his chest. “Go!” she managed to get out between giggles. Hank stood there flattened against the tree, at least the parts of him that could remain flat. Annabeth laughed harder as she stepped out into the yard, now lit up like a Christmas tree lot. Will was advancing toward her.

“Mom! What the hell are you doing out here?”

“None of your business. Go back inside where you belong.”

Her son’s eyed narrowed to slits. “What’s that on your neck?”

“William Anthony Connelly, I respect your privacy. I expect you to show me the same courtesy.”

“Oh, for the love of . . .” Will swore. “I’m happy to respect your privacy, but I’d really rather not find you necking in the woods with HANK OSBOURNE!” he roared.

“Will!” Julianne called from the porch. “You’ll wake the baby!” She waved at Annabeth. “Hey, Annabeth. We were just going to have dessert. Would you like to join us?”

The last thing Annabeth wanted to do was make small talk with her son right now. “No, thank you, Julianne. I have an early day tomorrow. I’m going home. Thank you, though.”

“I’ll walk you home.” Her behemoth son was being a tad overprotective.

“It’s only across the driveway, Will. Your mother isn’t in any danger. If it makes you feel better, come up here and stand next to me and we’ll both watch her safely to her door.” Julianne winked at Annabeth.

Will tried his game face on her, but Annabeth was immune. She strolled inside unaccompanied, making a mental note to offer to watch Owen for Julianne every day for a week.

Owen kicked his feet and pumped his arms in his bouncy seat.

“I’m going to have to start calling you Cheerio, little man. You’re way too happy in the morning.” Will took another swallow of his coffee, reaching over to wipe a spit bubble off his son’s chin. “Daddy is not a morning person, so you’re gonna have to tone it down a notch.”

The baby let out a delighted gurgle at Will’s words. Will smiled in spite of himself. Now nearly two months old, Owen was awake for longer spurts of time. Usually Will didn’t mind, but this morning he’d hoped to have his son fed and back to sleep before Julianne finished her shower. Unfortunately, Owen had other ideas, meaning there wouldn’t be a repeat of yesterday morning’s soaping of his wife’s back, among other things.