The Promise of Paradise

Chapter Twenty-Two


Consciousness came slowly, working its way into Ash’s bedroom on leaden feet.

I’m still in Paradise, she thought after a minute of staring at the ceiling. For now, anyway. A blink at the clock and a long swig of water reminded her of last night’s decision. She’d give Blues and Booze two more weeks. But no more.

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Though nearly nine, no light came through her blinds. She padded across the room and peered outside. Rain spit against her windows, not heavy, just steady.

“Great. Another stupid, gray day.” Just what she needed to match her mood. Ash headed for the bathroom, glad she’d taken a lunch shift to fill up the empty afternoon. I’ll tell Marty when I get there. She eased her way under the shower’s hot spray. No reason to call him earlier. He’d throw enough of a fit as it was.

She felt more than a little guilty about leaving Blues and Booze, especially since she’d been running the place a couple nights a week, but what was she supposed to do?

This place has nothing to offer you…

“Dad’s right,” she said aloud. The sooner she went back to Boston and faced down her demons, the better. She had a degree from one of the top law schools in the country. She knew of a half-dozen firms in the city who’d give their eyeteeth to hire a Harvard grad, especially one with the last name Kirk. She’d have no problem working herself back into that way of life. And if her father and her family needed her, then it was about time she stopped acting like a spoiled child with her heart broken. She was twenty-six, not sixteen. She needed to get it together and go to Martha’s Vineyard. What’s the worst that can happen?

Ash turned off the shower in time to hear her phone ring.

Eddie. The thought that it might be him shot adrenaline straight into her soul. He’s calling to talk. He wants to make up. It wasn't too late after all. She wrapped a towel around her head and grabbed her robe. All thoughts of Boston and her father and the Vineyard fled. Still wet, she skated into the living room.

But her voicemail picked up before she could answer, and as soon as hope had lifted inside her heart, it was gone again. She pressed the button to listen to the message, but one look at the screen told her who had called.

“Ash? Marty here.”

She sank onto the loveseat and rested her head on one palm. Of course it wasn’t Eddie. Look what she’d done by lying to him. Look at everything she’d ruined.

“Got something to ask you.” Marty hacked up phlegm for a few seconds before continuing. “And, ah, I know you’re coming in to work lunch today, but I’ve got a meeting down in the city.”

The city? As in Boston? Marty rarely left Paradise, as far as Ash knew, though he’d been gone a lot of nights this summer. What was the guy up to? Got a woman? She couldn’t imagine it. Gambling addiction?

“…so could you give me a call when you can?”

Ash erased the message. She might as well get it over with. He probably wanted her to cover as manager tonight, or maybe pull a double tomorrow. She'd call and find out for sure and tell him about her leaving at the same time. He wouldn’t like it, but—

Marty picked up on the first ring. “Ash?”

“Hi. Got your message.”

“Ah, hey there.” He coughed.

“Oughta get those lungs looked at,” she said almost without thinking. She knew he wouldn’t listen; she told him the same thing two or three times a week. It wasn’t like you could change the habits of a chronic smoker. The things people carried around for a lifetime worked their claws inside the skin and stayed there.

“So what's up?”

“Ash, listen. I’m gonna need someone up here full-time to run the restaurant. I'm thinking about opening another place down near Salem. Cater to the college crowd.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I've been talking to a buddy of mine these last few weeks. He’s got the dough, likes my ideas. Wants to go in partners with me.”

“Really?” Ash’s brows rose. She couldn’t picture Marty leaving Paradise, let alone opening another version of Blues and Booze. But then again, she’d never really looked past his yellow teeth and bloodshot eyes. Maybe the restaurant business had grown on him. Maybe, after all this time, he did want more. Maybe he wanted expansion, a place that drew a younger, bigger crowd. More money. More possibilities. “So wait, you’re leaving town?”

“For a while, if I can find someone to take care of the place here. I'll be spending most of my time down there, next few months, anyway. So, ah, if you’re interested, like to offer you the manager job. Full-time.” He chuckled, wheezing only a little. “Well, probably be more than full-time, ‘cause you know what the hours are like. You can hire someone to work under you, if you want. Part-time, cover the nights.”

“Marty, I can’t—”

“Don’t say no right away,” he interrupted. “I know it probably ain’t the dream job you got lined up inside your head. But you’re damn good at it. The customers like you. Lot of ‘em come in to see you. But you don’t take any crap from anyone either, and that’s good.” He paused to draw a rattly breath. “I ain’t never considered opening another place ‘til this opportunity came along. And you…you’re okay. You got the hang of it. And you’re about the only person with enough brains to keep it going. So if you want to stay in town for a while, give it a shot, I’d appreciate it. Really.”

Ash didn’t say anything. Stay in Paradise? Run Blues and Booze? It was ridiculous. She couldn’t. She’d do a terrible job. Besides, she’d make what? A few thousand dollars? Barely enough to cover the rent in this second-floor apartment. No way. It made no sense.

Then why didn’t she just tell Marty thanks, but no thanks? Why didn’t she tell him she’d be gone in two weeks, back in Boston where she belonged? Why, instead, did she tell him she’d think about it?

Because, she decided as she threw on an old pair of shorts and a halter top and stepped into the rain, she had finally, and completely, lost her mind.

* * *

The rain let up shortly after Ash rounded the corner of Lycian Street, and by the time she headed downtown, past the church green, all that remained was a fuzzy sky with some sun poking through. She bent her head against the wind, shoulders hunched, and walked past the restaurant. Past the tiny yellow-sided library, where Celia Darling waved a hand as she gathered books from the return bin. Past Annie’s Fabrics and the Used Book Depot, sharing space in a corner building. At the convenience store she turned, giving a nod to the guy who stood in the doorway. Harry Broker. Came in sometimes with his teenage daughter, weekends when she visited from her mom’s.

Ash shook her head. She couldn’t keep thinking about the people she knew, the connections she’d made here in Paradise. It had been just a summer detour, a distraction, as her father had put it. A few weeks of getting to know the locals didn’t mean she belonged here, even if Marty had just offered her the perfect opportunity for staying. She dodged a baseball that rolled into the street and kept her eyes down. She didn’t want to see who it belonged to or play the matching game with another local face.

Another turn, this time onto a quiet street, thick with oak trees. St. James Avenue curved up toward the community college, and she followed it, slowing as the hill grew steeper. Here the houses pushed together, one atop the next like postage stamps in a line. All one-level, all neatly tended, almost all brick with white or black trim and flowers on the stoop. Here and there, a flag in the window or a bronze nameplate broke the pattern. Don’t they mind? Don’t they want to look distinct? Or is there comfort in fitting in?

Ahead of her, a wrought iron gate stood open beside a sign welcoming her to New Hampshire Central Junior College. Ash wrapped her fingers around the bars and stared at the squat buildings, made of the same red brick as the houses behind her. Near the entrance stood a white building with cupolas on top and a sign that read “Admissions” in front. In the background she could see the three story library accented with flowerbeds and a stone lion statue sitting regally in front. It looked like every other local school, plopped in a tiny town, anywhere in the country.

Except it wasn’t. This one belonged to Paradise, New Hampshire. And suddenly, she heard Eddie’s voice again inside her head.

“… people have the same problems no matter where you go. Big city or small town, people get hurt. Friends steal from each other. Men cheat on their wives. Kids sneak out at night and get drunk while their parents think they’re sleeping. People get divorced, same as every other place…At least here, in Paradise, you know someone’s got your back. You know there’s always someone you can count on, someone you grew up with who’s gonna forgive you no matter how bad you screw things up…”

She turned away from the college. Two benches flanked the fence, and she dropped onto one, not caring that rainwater had puddled inside it.

Is that why she liked it? Because there was something here that made her feel like she belonged? Something that told her people would look out for her? Stand up for her? Forgive her when she screwed things up?

She ran one finger along the bench’s scrollwork.

“…I know it probably ain’t the dream job you got lined up inside your head. But you’re damn good at it. The customers like you. Lot of ‘em come in to see you…”

True, the town didn’t seem to care who she was. The people living here hadn’t asked questions when she’d moved in. They’d taken her word and welcomed her just the same. And she liked that she hadn’t relied on her last name to find a job. To make connections. To make love.

Eddie chose me. Not my pedigree. Not my degree. He chose his screwed-up, neurotic, upstairs neighbor who slept late and occasionally spilled coffee on people and chewed her thumbnail when she got nervous. He chose me. The realization washed over her in hot waves.

She had to tell him how he'd changed her, how this place had changed her. If Marty was offering her a chance to stay, to explore the possibilities that Paradise held for her, then Ash wasn’t about to say no. Not just yet. Not when everything between her and Eddie felt so unfinished.

She stood and made her way back down St. James. At the bottom, she broke into a jog. The church clock boomed out eleven o’clock, and she hurried on. Why was it that time only dragged when you wanted to rush it along, and when you really wanted to slow it, it insisted on running away from you?

She headed back to Lycian Street. If Eddie wasn’t home yet, she’d leave him a note. She'd wedge it inside his door and ask him to come to Blues and Booze later on. She didn’t care that maybe he’d spent the night with Cass. She had explaining to do. And apologies to make.

“Hi, Ash!” Toby Darling, Celia’s son, sat on the front step of the library, tossing a baseball from one hand to the other.

A few weeks back, she’d given the ten-year-old a dish of leftover ice cream, the night the power went out and every restaurant on Main Street had to empty their freezers. He’d adored her ever since.

“Hi yourself,” she answered, waving back. The sun winked in and out of clouds, and she felt it press down on the back of her neck. Warm. Comforting. Like a hand urging her home.

She practically skipped the last block, rehearsing her speech to Marty in between thinking of the first thing she wanted to tell Eddie. Not to mention the first thing she wanted to do to him. With him. Her face burned a little, but she didn’t care. When you figured out what it was you wanted, you’d do whatever it took to get it back. Even if that meant staring down the vixen from your lover’s past.

Ash cracked her knuckles as anxiety welled up inside her. Due at work in less than an hour, she didn’t have a lot of time. Her fingers dug inside her pocket as she rounded the corner, and because her house keys got stuck in a loose thread, she was looking down as she made her way to the porch steps.

So he saw her first. He spoke first. And when she raised her head to see who waited for her with a smile in his voice, all breath left her body. Tall and impossibly good-looking, the kind of good-looking that belonged on a magazine cover, Colin Parker stood on the porch of number two Lycian Street. He winked. Cocked his head to one side, the way she remembered too well. Grinned that camera-ready smile that flipped her stomach over and loped down the steps to meet her. All Ash could do was stand there and stare as his rolling bass voice carried her back through time.

“Hi, babe. God, it’s good to see you again.”