I’m used to quiet, he’d told Aubrey, and he’d meant that. But today it haunted him. Because he also liked Aubrey just the way she was: fiery, passionate, tough. It was bothering him that he’d let her think he didn’t like those things about her.
There was a lot bothering him. He was a first-class a*shole, as Jack had made clear. Jack was a lot of things, but as much as Ben hated to admit it, one of the things Jack almost always was was right.
Yes, Aubrey had taken away two years of time that Ben might have had with Hannah. Might. Because the truth was, he’d made the most of those two years. He’d enjoyed the hell out of himself, and an even bigger truth was that he wouldn’t want to take that time back. He’d been too young for a serious relationship with Hannah back then, and only in hindsight could he see that. If they’d stayed together, he’d have blown it anyway.
All on his own.
And then there was Hannah herself. Ben had loved her—he’d loved her with everything he had, and she’d loved him. But she’d never have come to his house in the middle of the night and thrown rocks at his window to demand his attention. She’d never have yelled at him or made a scene. And she sure as hell wouldn’t have fought for him. She hadn’t fought for him, when it had come right down to it.
Instead she’d let him go without so much as the truth. Or any words at all. She’d tossed him away.
As he’d done to Aubrey.
He dropped his head and thunked it on his desk a few times.
“Careful, you’ll shake something loose.”
Ben lifted his head and found Lucille standing there watching him. “What are you doing here?”
She showed him a flyer for Aubrey’s grand opening, and he had to smile at the image of Aubrey as Wonder Woman.
It fit.
“I’m making sure people remember to go to her grand-opening party,” Lucille said.
Ben nodded. “You’re a good person, Lucille.”
“I am,” she said. “And I thought you were.”
“What does that mean?”
She just looked at him with her rheumy, knowing eyes.
“You’re going to have to give me a hint,” he said.
“How about a couple of hints?” Lucille said. “Such as since when do you judge someone for making a mistake? You’ve made plenty yourself, Benjamin McDaniel. Remember when you and Jack and Luke broke into the Ferris wheel’s machine room and set it running in the middle of the night? Or how about when your aunt had the entire search and rescue team looking for you when you’d gone night surfing? Everyone thought you’d drowned, but there you were on the harbor, right on the beach, sleeping through your own rescue.”
He winced. “I was young and stupid.”
She gave him a baleful stare.
“I’m not going to discuss Aubrey with you,” he said flatly.
“No, of course not. We’re discussing your stupidity. Your assness. Your—”
“I got it,” Ben said tightly.
“Yeah? Then do something about it, big guy.”
“For the record,” he said, “I was just getting ready to handle this situation.”
“Well, could you speed things up a little bit?” she asked. “Our girl doesn’t have all damn day. Right now she’s all alone in her shop surrounded by nothing but books and cupcakes that no one’s eating.”
He didn’t like that image. “No one came?”
“Her friends Ali and Leah came,” she said, with an emphasis on friends, as though he should be ashamed of himself for not being one of them. “Her sister showed up, too,” Lucille added. “But no one else. Lucky Harbor thinks it needs to be mad on your behalf.”
Hell. That was not what he wanted. “It’s none of anyone’s business. What happened is between me and her.”
Lucille crossed her arms. “Are you referring to way back, when she got mad at Hannah and told her a lie about the two of you? Are you seriously going to tell me that when you heard why Aubrey did it that it didn’t make a difference to you?”
Ben went still, thoughts spinning in his head so fast he felt whiplashed.
Lucille was staring at him. “You didn’t even ask Aubrey why she told Hannah that lie, did you?”
“I asked,” he said. But she hadn’t answered.
And he hadn’t pushed.
“Oh, for Peter, Joseph, and Mary’s sake!” Lucille said, exasperated. “I need to be paid for this job.”
“What job?”
“Matchmaking. You young people don’t even know how to communicate. Listen to me very carefully. Aubrey caught Hannah in a lie—a big one—that caused someone else a lot of problems. It pissed Aubrey off, because at that time she wasn’t getting away with diddly-squat.”
Ben shook his head. “What lie could Hannah have possibly told that would have upset Aubrey? They weren’t even friends.”
Lucille was clearly over this. “Remember that car accident she was in?”
Ben did remember. Hannah had been in the passenger seat when her best friend had gotten in an accident. Later that friend had been sued by someone in one of the other two cars involved. Thankfully, Hannah had been unhurt, but she was devastated over her friend’s troubles from the fallout. “Yes. I remember.”
Lucille’s expression softened. “Honey, this isn’t easy to say. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead. Hannah was driving that night. The two girls switched places before the police came because Hannah had been drinking. She’d had a scholarship to lose and a father she was terrified of. A DUI couldn’t happen for her.”
Ben stared at her. “That’s crazy. Hannah would never have let someone else take the blame.”
“But that’s exactly what she did,” Lucille said quietly. “And Aubrey saw it.”
“How do you know this?”
“Because that someone else is my granddaughter.” Lucille patted him on the arm. “She said that Aubrey confronted Hannah about the accident, and Hannah denied it.” She gave Ben a long look. “Hannah used Aubrey’s bad reputation against her, to discount anything Aubrey might say. And then Aubrey let her mouth run off with her good sense when her temper got the best of her.”
Ben didn’t know what to make of any of this, and he wasn’t at all sure that the details mattered at this point. It was in the past, and it would stay there. It didn’t matter—none of it mattered; he knew that now. Standing, he headed to the door, but then he stopped to go back for the flyers. Lucille plowed into the back of him. Her hands came up, and because she was scarcely five feet tall they ended up on his ass. He craned his neck and looked down at her.
“Sorry,” she said, but didn’t remove her hands. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, she gave him a little squeeze.
“Lucille,” he said ominously.
“I know.” She pulled her hands away—rather reluctantly, he thought—and sighed. “It’s just been a long time since I had my hands on buns that firm.”
Shaking his head, he grabbed the flyers and strode out of his office. He stopped at every person he saw, thrust out a flyer, and demanded that person’s presence at the bookstore. “There’s going to be stuff to eat,” he said, and glanced at Lucille for confirmation.
She nodded. “Goodies from the bakery. And also hotties with buns of steel.”