The shakespeare sisters.., p.96
The Shakespeare Sisters--The Complete Box Set, page 96
Back then he’d lost more than a few prints due to overexposure, or not getting the paper into the stop bath fast enough. It took years of practice to develop the perfect print, and yet still there was always the possibility that something could go wrong. For some reason he enjoyed it so much more than messing around on his MacBook.
Ryan finished the final print – of Charlie, clambering over Miss Maisie – then left the room, careful not to expose it to light. Climbing up the stairs to the ground floor, he checked on Charlie, smiling as he saw his sleeping son curled up on top of his covers, his fist jammed against his mouth as he sucked at his thumb. Charlie was used to sleeping anywhere he could – a by-product of his upbringing – but he’d still found it hard to settle down during his first week here in Shaw Haven.
Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, Ryan ignored the lure of his laptop, instead heading for the deck. He grabbed his camera, intending to unscrew and clean up the lens as he watched the sun go down. But as he stepped outside he realised he wasn’t the only one planning to spend some time out in the evening sun.
Juliet was kneeling on the grass in front of her bungalow, a small spade in one hand as she dug earth from the flowerbeds surrounding the house. He watched as she carefully planted the red and pink flowers, refilling the soil before sprinkling them with water from her blue-painted metal can.
Her hair was pulled back into a French braid that hung down her back, the colour still as striking as ever. He sat there, his camera on his lap, his fingers softly touching the black plastic lens, and watched as she tended the small garden. She was oblivious to the world, her neck long and slender as she leaned over the soil, her hips swaying as she moved from side to side picking up plants and moved them to the right spot. She was a portrait waiting to be taken, a study in perfect beauty.
Pulling his gaze away, Ryan picked up the soft cloth he used for his camera, and gently cleaned the lens. When he glanced up a few minutes later, Juliet had finished her planting. She was standing, her arms crossed as she surveyed her handiwork. She brushed a stray lock of red hair from her face – the strands dancing in the soft evening breeze.
She was completely oblivious to his presence, so wrapped up in the exact placement of the plants that nothing else existed around her. She was classically beautiful – like those seventeenth-century women you saw on the walls at art galleries.
His thoughts turned to Sheridan, Charlie’s mother. They’d never really been an item. More friends than anything, with a few benefits thrown in for good measure. When she’d discovered she was pregnant, they’d both taken it in their stride, and when Charlie was born in Namibia Ryan had fallen in love with his tiny scrap of a son right away. It had made sense that Ryan be the primary carer – taking a baby with you on a photographic shoot was a lot easier than taking him on tour with a band. They met up with Sheridan as often as they could – in places as exotic as Tijuana and Beijing – but for the most part it was just the two of them, and they were as close as a father and son could be.
Witnessing Poppy’s handover this morning first hand made him thankful for everything he had. The disdain for his ex that seemed to seep from every inch of Thomas Marshall’s body, had felt alien to him. Thomas Marshall had been a bully at school. It looked like he still was.
From across the yard, Juliet glanced over her shoulder, her brow dipping as she realised she wasn’t alone. Ryan lifted a hand to wave at her.
‘Hey, London, how you doing?’ he called out.
Her brows rose up as she shouted back. ‘My name’s Juliet.’ The smallest smile flittered across her face before she added, ‘Mr Sutherland.’
He couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not. The not knowing made him want to stare closely at her, try to work out what was going on in her head.
‘If you call me Mr Sutherland, I’ll think you’re talking to my dad.’
‘I think I’ve met your dad,’ she told him.
More and more intriguing. ‘You’ve met him? When?’
She moved a little closer. Still on her side of the yard, but close enough that he could see the hazel of her eyes without having to look through a lens. ‘At dinner with Thomas’s parents. One of those interminable ones where the women get sent off after dessert so the men can talk business.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t miss those at all.’
Interesting. ‘You don’t?’ he asked her, putting his camera down and standing up. ‘Why not?’
He walked across the deck and leaned on the rail, smiling at her. She looked up at him, running the tip of her tongue across her lips. ‘They bored me to death. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk business.’ She flashed him a smile. ‘And I definitely didn’t enjoy talking about Mary Stanford’s latest grandbaby.’
His stomach contracted. He remembered those kinds of dinners too. He didn’t miss them either. He pushed himself up off the handrail and walked down the steps toward her.
She looked up at him, and he could see a smudge of earth on the tip of her nose. He wanted to reach out to rub it away. ‘You want a beer?’ he asked her, tipping his head at his deck. ‘Come and watch the sun go down with me.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t, I’ve got some… some things to do inside. Poppy will be back tomorrow, I want to get all my work done before then.’
He ignored the pulse of disappointment shooting through him. ‘Maybe another time then?’
Her nod was slight. He took that as a good sign. ‘I don’t drink beer. But maybe a lemonade… or something.’
For now, he’d take it.
‘Or perhaps a shandy,’ he said, grinning. ‘We will get you over to the dark side, whatever it takes.’
From the way her mouth fell open, he suspected it would take quite a lot.
Juliet’s hands were shaking as she pulled the gardening gloves from them, laying them down on the counter before washing her hands beneath the running faucet. Her cheeks flamed at the memory of him catching her looking at him. It wasn’t the first time she’d been looking, either. When she’d been kneeling at the flowerbed she’d snuck more than a few glances over her shoulder, intrigued by how carefully he’d been cleaning his camera. The concentration on his face had called to her like a siren. She knew how easy it was to get caught up in something that you loved doing. It happened to her every day in the shop.
And of course she hadn’t noticed just how handsome he looked in the orange light of the setting sun. She was way too busy for that.
Looking up from the sink, she caught sight of herself in the window, the darkening skies outside turning the glass into a mirror. It was impossible not to wince at the way she looked. Her hair was a mess, her face – unadorned by any make-up – was smudged with earth, and beneath her eyes were those ever-present shadows.
What would Thomas think of her if he could see her like this? During their marriage she’d always taken such good care of her appearance. Monthly trips to the hair salon, weekly trips to the beauticians. Not to mention the personal shopper at Garvey’s, the local department store, who always called her whenever they had new additions to their designer range.
To the unpractised ear it sounded like a fairy tale, and maybe it was at first. But in recent years those cinched-in tailored dresses had felt more like a prison uniform. No, maybe they were more like a costume – clothes she put on to pretend to be somebody she wasn’t. She’d tried so hard to be perfect, and it still wasn’t enough. Not for Thomas or for her.
Sighing, she tucked the hair that had fallen out from her braid behind her ear. It was one thing to dress down, but quite another to look like this while your hot neighbour happened to be watching you from his deck. Her face flushed with embarrassment at the thought of him seeing her like that.
Growing up, she’d always been labelled the most beautiful of her sisters. But right now she’d never felt less beautiful, less confident of her appearance. Seeing your husband in bed with someone else did that to a woman.
She dried her hands on the old towel she’d grabbed from the dresser. Her nail varnish was chipped again. An occupational hazard for somebody who spent most of her time working with her hands, but also another reminder of how much things had changed. Thank goodness none of the Marshalls could see her now. It would only confirm their opinion that Juliet could never be the kind of wife they’d envisaged for Thomas.
She shook her head, flipping on the kettle to boil some water. That was the problem with her weekends off – the ones Poppy spent with her father. Too much time for introspection. She’d spent most of the day in the shop, doing her accounts, and sending out quotes, anything to take her mind off the empty house. Then this evening she’d worked on the back yard, determined to make this house look a little less ramshackle and a little more lived in. But now the sun was dipping beneath the tree line behind the house, she’d run out of distractions.
That had to be the reason her mind kept drifting toward the imposing house next door, and its intriguing owner. Because try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way Ryan had offered her a beer, suggesting they watch the sun go down together. He’d said it so easily, so naturally, and she’d been desperate to sip an ice-cold drink on his deck. Desperate and afraid in equal measure.
She flicked the kettle off before it had even come to a boil, and reached into the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of chilled white wine.
She might not have been a beer drinker, but right now the thought of mellowing out with a glass or two of wine was more temptation than she had the willpower to resist.
And maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to get Ryan Sutherland out of her thoughts.
5
Come not between the dragon and his wrath
– King Lear
‘Okay, that’s the last one. We just need to get them into the van and drive them over to the hotel now.’ Juliet tucked her hair behind her ear. It must have fallen out of her hairband when they were head down tying the flowers together. ‘Thank you for all your help.’
Lily smiled. ‘It’s a pleasure. And I can drive them over if you like. Save you the journey.’
‘No, it’s already half an hour past your finish time. I feel guilty enough. And anyway, I wouldn’t subject you to the manager’s wrath. I swear he always finds fault in the arrangements, no matter how carefully we do them.’
‘He can’t find that much fault. He offered you the contract after all.’
‘That’s true. And thank goodness he did.’ Thanks to the Shaw Haven Hotel’s contract to supply them with their weekly displays, Juliet had enough regular income to hire an assistant for the shop. Lily was a floristry student at the local community college, and she’d jumped at the job offer.
It was a match made in heaven. Their mutual love of flowers might have brought them together, but in the past weeks that Lily had been working here, a friendship had budded between them, too. They’d found themselves talking non-stop as they worked alongside each other, creating floral displays and serving customers.
Lily had filled a void in Juliet’s life she hadn’t even known was there. A space left empty by the fact her sisters were so far away, and the friends she’d thought she had in her previous life had stuck firmly to Thomas’s side.
It was nice to have a grown-up to talk to, sometimes.
There’s always the man next door, a little voice inside her head whispered. Juliet shook it off and picked up the first floral display, heading towards the back door. She didn’t need to think about Ryan Sutherland right now. She’d thought about him enough on Saturday night, after they’d talked across the yard.
Lily pushed on the back door and kicked the wedge beneath it to hold it open. The van was parked just outside. She unlocked it and unlatched the back door, taking the first display from Juliet and sliding it into the trunk.
‘I really love what you’ve done with the trailing vines,’ Lily said, standing back to admire the displays she and Juliet had created. ‘It’s so pretty.’
They worked methodically, Juliet carrying out the boxed displays, and Lily carefully arranging them in the van. By the time they’d finished, it was five-thirty p.m., half an hour past closing time, and more than an hour since Lily was supposed to be home.
‘I’ll pay you for the overtime,’ Juliet reassured her, shooing her back into the shop to get her coat and purse. ‘Now get out of here, your mom must be wondering where you are.’
‘You don’t need to pay me, I’m learning so much. I feel like I should be paying you.’
‘Yeah, well that’s the highway to becoming bankrupt.’ Juliet shot her a smile. ‘I won’t be taking you up on that offer.’
‘You should get out of here, too.’ Lily threw Juliet the van keys, and then pulled on her jacket. ‘I know you like to see Poppy before bedtime. If you hurry you should make it.’
‘Thank heavens for good babysitters.’ Juliet smiled. ‘At least I know she’s well taken care of.’ She leaned forward to give Lily a quick hug. ‘Now shoo, get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Good luck with the delivery.’ Lily walked over to her car.
‘Thanks, I think I’ll need it.’
An hour later, Juliet was pulling her car into the driveway, the tyres crunching against the gravel as she pressed her foot on the brake.
‘Mommy!’ Poppy’s voice carried across the yard. Juliet was only halfway out of the car, one leg on the gravel, the other still in the foot well. She grabbed her purse and bucket of flowers she’d rescued from the shop, too old to use at work, but too pretty to throw away. A smile worked its way across her mouth as soon as she set eyes on her little girl.
‘Hey honey. How was school?’ She dropped her things on the porch, reaching out just in time for Poppy to throw herself into her arms. ‘Where’s Melanie?’
She looked around for Melanie Drewer – the babysitter who picked Poppy up and watched her at home every Thursday. It was strange that she was nowhere to be seen.
‘She started being sick after teatime. It was yucky. The smell made me want to throw up too.’
‘She’s sick?’ Juliet looked around. ‘Where is she, in the house?’
‘Nah, ah. She went home.’
‘And left you on your own?’ She felt her voice rise up an octave, like some kind of panicked soprano. ‘She can’t do that.’
‘It’s okay. Ryan told her to go. He said I could play with Charlie until you came home.’ Poppy shrugged as if it was the most natural thing in the world, going to play with a practical stranger and his son.
Her mouth turned dry at the thought of what Thomas would say if he ever found out.
‘Poppy, come look at this,’ Charlie called out. Poppy turned and ran down the porch and back to the house next door, her hair flying out behind her. She came to a skidding halt next to Charlie, the two of them kneeling down at the corner of the house, both of them staring at something.
Her gaze rose from the two of them to the deck above. That’s when she saw Ryan, sitting on the comfy two-seat sofa, a laptop propped up on his denim-clad legs. He was frowning at something, using a mouse to click at the screen.
He wasn’t even keeping an eye on the children. Anything could have happened to them.
Turning on her heel, she walked back down the pathway and over to the Sutherland house. He looked up when he heard her footsteps, his blue eyes meeting hers.
‘Hey. How was your day?’
His question stole the breath from her lungs, the same way his smile stole her good sense. How long had it been since anybody had asked her that? Even Melanie was usually too busy trying to get supper on the table on the nights she worked to even acknowledge much more than Juliet’s arrival. As for Thomas, well, he’d never really been interested in how things were going.
‘Um, fine.’ She blinked a couple of times. ‘I was a bit surprised to hear Melanie was sick. She should have called me, I would have come home right away.’ She felt all kinds of awkward, looming over him as he looked up at her. Why the heck was she getting so flustered at the way his eyes crinkled as he smiled?
‘She was going to call you, but I told her I’d take care of things. She looked as green as a dragon, I thought the best thing to do was send her home before she spread her germs all over the neighbourhood.’
‘You should have called me,’ Juliet said. ‘I can’t have Poppy being looked after by strangers. It’s not right.’
‘I haven’t got your number.’
‘Well, Melanie should have given it to you. What if something had happened? What if Poppy had hurt herself when you were looking after her, and needed me? You can’t just… I don’t know… make decisions about other people’s children like this.’ Not even if the way he filled those jeans was making it hard to find the right words.
Ryan was looking at her as though he couldn’t understand a word she was saying. Three furrows lined his otherwise smooth face, half-obscured by his sandy hair. ‘If something had happened we would’ve tracked you down. But nothing did happen, and it wasn’t likely to, either. Unless you count those two getting covered in mud.’ He gestured at Poppy and Charlie, who were currently on their knees, digging in the earth. Charlie pulled a worm from the soil, holding it in the air and wiggling it toward Poppy. ‘We’re neighbours, we’re hardly strangers. And I know you’d do the same for me if I needed help.’
The common sense of his answer took the wind out of her sails.
‘I’m sorry,’ she finally said, her voice quiet. ‘I’m not used to getting any help.’
Ryan was silent as he stared at her. She felt scrutinised, but not in a bad way. Still, she could feel herself flushing under his inspection, her chest and cheeks pinking up as the blood rushed to her skin.
