Page 3 of Return to Cheshire Bay
“Iwork at theairport.”
“You’rea pilot?” I tried to hide the pitch at the end of my question butwas sure I failed miserably.
“Charterflights, mostly around the island.” There was a twinkle in his voice along with a hintof pride. “A life-long dream. Sort of. I’m not flying the big jumbojets, but I’m still taking to the air.”
Not onlyhadhe sprouted, buthe’d figuratively earned his wings. Impressive. “Well, there’s lotsto see and do on the island. I’m sure the tourists love it.” Atleast I hoped the list of things to do had expanded, although all Iever did as a teenager was drink and smoke too much weed on thebeaches.
“Fairbit. I do the occasional run to YVR.” Airport codefor Vancouver. “So, if you everneed anything from your place while you’re here, gimme a holler. Ican fly you over. Less than an hour gate to gate.”
That would be afirst - being shuttled around by a kid who was uber annoying and agiant pain in the ass. Whenever we were on the beach, him andLandon would follow my friends and I around like pitiful puppies.If I knew then he’d turn out to be a nice guy, maybe I would’vebeen nicer to him.
DarthVader’s march sounded out again, and I quickly yanked myphone off the ledge,silencing it and flipping it face down. Parker couldwait–forever–for all I cared.
Heglanced at his watch. “Tomorrow night, would you beinterested in havingsupper? We can catch up.”
It would benice to chat with a friendly face.
Hekicked at the weatheredfloor of my deck. “I’d invite you out tonight, but I’m going to afriend’s and…”
“Oh,that’s okay, honestly. Tomorrow works or even thenext day too. I’m kindof exhausted anyway and need to catch up on my sleep.” I hadn’t hada full night’s sleep in a month, and especially not over the lastweek.
“Perfect, it’s adate.”
Hewalked off my porch, and I waited until his sand-covered soles crossed the floor of hispatio before I laughed at the thought and headed inside where hecouldn’t see me. A date? In his teenaged fantasies. I wasn’t backin Cheshire Bay to relive my glory days; I was here to figure outmy life. And apparently, Parker was advancing up the to-do listwith impressive speed.
Chapter Two
“Whatchadoing?” Eric asked,popping his head out his car as he pulled up in front ofhis place.
I lifted a canof paint from the rear of my Jeep and waved it in front of me.“Renovating.”
He walked overand retrieved a couple bags of supplies and the other two cans ofpaint, following me into the house. “Sorry I didn’t come and grabyou for our supper date the other night. An emergency popped upwith a friend, and by time I got back here your lights were alloff.”
“It’sall good, I promise.” I hadn’t expected much anyway. Figured he blew me off like Ihad him so many times before. Besides, this wasn’t the right timein my life for a date-date. A friendly coffee, as wonderful as thethought was, was almost too much to handle. Especially since beingback in the bay area.
“I’vebeen working more withthe incoming tourists.”
“Eric,”I paused and rifled through the bag of supplies sitting on thekitchen island. “Trust me, it’s okay.” Right at thebottom was the package ofplastic tarps I needed.
A lookof relief tugged hisshoulders downward and pushed a smile into his cheeks. “Whew.” Hemocked wiping his brow and turned to take in the change of scenery.“Wow.” A high-pitched whistle blew through his lips. “You’vetotally changed the looks of this place.”
Inarrowed my eyes. As far as Iremembered, I’d never invited him over, so how would heknow?
He set apaint can down on the floor. “On occasion I’d pop over and makesure everything was okay –no water lines busted, that kind of thing. Your dad hiredme to keep an eye on the place. By the way, is he coming by at all?I’d like to touch base with him.”
I frozein the spot for a heartbeat and swallowed down a rapidly forminglump. “No, he’s not coming.” Quickly, I averted my gaze.
“Ah,well, too bad.” He ranhis fingers through his hair. “This looks amazing, andyou’ve given it a modern spin. I like it.”
“Excuse itscurrent disaster though.”
Normally, I was a neat and tidy person, but beinghere, there was theoverwhelming urge to declutter, clean and repaint, and the resultwas a temporary pigsty. Sure, the walls were freshly painted in aninteresting choice of grey, which wasn’t my first pick, but thefloors were littered in nightmare of weathered books, knickknacksand items that desperately needed to never see the light of dayagain.
“I promise,it’s not permanent. I have big plans for this space.” I lifted thecan of paint at Eric’s feet, twisting and debating where preciselyto put it.
Themainfloorplan was open concept, and the sitting area only had threewalls. One had an empty, but unpainted, bookcase from the 1950’sthat took up the length of the wall and filled three-quarters ofthe height. The other two walls were half windows; one gazing outto green hilly seaside, and the other stared out onto the covereddeck which faced the ocean. Painting those two walls had been easy.It was the bookcase wall providing some challenges since it wasfirmly attached to the wall and I couldn’t just slap a paint rolleron it and be done. The wall needed to be painted, as did thebookcase, but I wasn’t sure if it should match the wall, orsomething different to make it pop. While I figured it out (andwaited for a call from my best friend and interior decorator), I’dpainted the kitchen but without her returning my call, I’d startedpainting the upstairs. And that’s when I ran out ofsupplies.
“Likeeverything else in my life, it was time for a change.” I set theheavy can down with a thud and leanedback against the counter, forgetting for thebriefest of heartbeats that Eric was here. And he didn’t know allthe things.