But he wasn’t those guys, hadn’t been for a long time. Half the time he wasn’t even sure what kind of guy he was. And Ember deserved everything – she deserved to be with somebody who could give her what she wanted. Not a man whose life was dedicated to his job, who could never promise when he’d be home – if he’d make it home at all.
What kind of guy would he be if he hit on her now, anyway? She’d just been stood up and was clearly still cut up about it. Better to be a friend, a listening ear. Even if his mind was telling him he wanted so much more.
It was taking every bit of strength he had not to listen to it.
14
“You deleted it? Why?” Rachel leaned on the waist-level playground fence, half an eye on the children playing. Her insulated mug was empty – as was Ember’s – and it dangled from her fingers as she watched. Recess was almost finished – less than a couple of minutes left to go, and it was as though the children knew their time was coming to an end. The volume of their shouts had increased, as had the speed of their running.
An extinction burst, Principal Sawyer called it. As long as they worked off their energy, Ember didn’t care what it was.
“Because it was full of guys sending disgusting pictures and making lewd suggestions.” Ember shrugged. “Even the ones I thought might be good guys turned out to not even turn up. I figure I’m better off alone.”
“It didn’t turn out too badly for you though, did it? I heard on the grapevine that a certain firefighter saved the day and swept you off your feet to dinner.”
“Who told you that?” Ember frowned.
Rachel looked disgustingly pleased with herself. She pushed her finger and thumb together and mimed zipping her lips. That didn’t stop her from opening them all over again, though. “A little birdy told me. You know what this town’s like, everybody knows everything.”
“Well that birdy is talking out of its behind.” Ember shook her head. “If you want the truth, he felt sorry for me and bought me a hot dog, which was cold by the time I ate it. And then I went home and drowned my sorrows with a glass of wine and went straight to bed.”
Rachel didn’t look too convinced. She opened her mouth to reply but the sound of the school bell drowned out her words. A wave of relief washed over Ember at being saved by the bell, and she started hustling the students out of the playground and through the double doors that led to the classrooms. When the final child was inside, she closed the gate and followed them in, lifting a hand to wave at Marian, Principal Sawyer’s secretary who was sitting at the front desk.
“Oh, Ember? Somebody called and left a message for you,” Marian called over to her. She shuffled through the thick pile of papers on her desk, triumphantly pulling out the right one. “It’s from a guy called Frank. I asked for his last name, but he was mumbling and I didn’t quite catch it. Peggoty or something. Anyway, your meeting tonight has changed locations. Apparently the Beach Club is double booked. I made him repeat the address twice, so I think I have it right.” She held out the piece of paper to Ember. She took it, frowning as she read the familiar address.
“Are you sure this is right?” Ember asked. “He definitely said 1795 Paxton Avenue?”
“Yeah, as I said I made him repeat it.” Marian frowned. “Is there something wrong?”
“No,” Ember said faintly. “Nothing wrong at all.” She swallowed hard, folding the notepaper up and sliding it into her pocket. It wasn’t as if she needed to read it again. She knew exactly what house 1795 Paxton Avenue was.
She’d spent more than enough time there in the past few years.
“I should get back to my class,” she said, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest. “Thanks for taking the message.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She flashed Marian what she hoped looked like a smile. “Nothing a little light arithmetic won’t cure, anyway.” She gave Marian a nod, then hurried down the hallway to her classroom, trying – and failing – not to think about tonight’s meeting.
A committee meeting at her ex-almost-parent-in-laws’ beachfront home. What could possibly be wrong with that?
* * *
Lucas pulled his car up on the Martins’ sweeping driveway and turned the ignition off, tapping his pocket to make sure his keys were there. He had to be one of the last here – there were already fifteen or more cars parked up, and the generous driveway accommodated them comfortably. As he climbed out of his car a breeze from the ocean beyond the imposing house danced around his skin and pulled at his t-shirt.
He ran his palm over his close-cropped hair, staring up at the house. This part of town was full of buildings like this one, with access to the beach and views of the ocean beyond. As a kid he’d been envious of people who got to live like this, of their obvious wealth and affluent lifestyle.
It’s only as he grew older that he stopped aspiring to have a home like this one day. It would never be possible on a firefighter’s salary anyway – not even if he made chief, let alone captain. He never wanted to sell his soul to the devil – or to Newton Pharmaceuticals – just to get a slice of the good life. He preferred his own life, thank you very much, even if it meant his only view of the ocean came from his grandparents’ run-down cottage.
When he reached the top of the steps, he rapped his knuckles on the door a couple of times. A few seconds later it opened, and Janice Martin smiled widely at him. “They managed to track you down,” she said, stepping back to let him in. “You wouldn’t check your voicemails.”
It was almost impossible not to like Janice Martin. She had one of those personalities that drew people in. Lucas wondered if it was something that came with age, or maybe it had just skipped him altogether.
“Go on through to the deck,” Janice said, pointing down the hallway to the double doors that led to the outside of the house. “Can I get you something to drink? A beer, or a soda?”
“Soda would be great.”
She peeled off to the right – Lucas assumed to the kitchen – leaving him to make his way down the hallway to the doors. The walls were full of photographs – not snapshots, but blown-up professionally posed ones. Of Janice and her husband, he presumed, and their two children in various stages of maturity. There were the obligatory graduation photographs, a few Christmas poses, and finally one of a young man of twenty-five or so, standing proudly with his arms around a woman of the same age. He was holding her hand out, displaying a huge ring on her left hand. The two of them were all smiles.