Lingering...

Lingering...

© Copyright 2011 Casey Harvell

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The characters, locations, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity or resemblance to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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Dedication...

To my Grandmother,

I only wish you were here.

Chapter One...

Penelope sat outside at first morning’s light with a blanket wrapped snuggly around her and a hot cup of coffee in hand. She noted that the wind still nipped with a winter chill even though the promise of spring grew near. She wasn’t ordinarily a morning person, however lately sleep had proven difficult. Too many thoughts raced inside her mind and distracted her from sleep.

She sat with her new morning ritual of coffee and a sunrise. She was glad to be saying farewell to winter. What a winter it had been! She thought as she watched the first beams of sunlight light up the morning frost of the leafless trees. Tree limbs glimmered in crystal sparkles as the brightness rose over them—glistening brightly to ignite them.

Penelope hadn’t anticipated that her last relationship would end so abruptly or so violently. It left her feeling simultaneously hurt and discarded. Even after waiting through the long winter she still felt the sting. She felt just as used and discarded as she had in the beginning—if not more so after mulling over it for a few months.

Spring is here—bringing with it new beginnings. She thought and tried to get out of her bad mood. The sun was now warm on her face and helped to reassure her affirmation to herself. It has to get better, she thought. I don’t think it can get much worse. While a winter of solitude had gave her the space she needed to pull herself back together (and make some necessary life decisions) the idea of facing people again both excited and unnerved her. I’m sure I ran far enough, she thought.

She closed her eyes and recalled the last three years. It played like a movie in her mind. Opening scenes from her relationship were so wonderful—but then the sudden realizations followed. Penelope remembered the past spring and thought of her naivety. She recalled the easiness of love he gave to her as long as the cash flowed freely and the cold abruptness in which it had ended when she had nothing left. Penelope remembered that almost fatal night so vividly still. Even as she thought it she hung her head low in shame.

Emily was the only thing Penelope missed from her old home out west. They’d become friends long ago when Penelope’s family had moved out there. Emily was the only person Penelope found truly loyal over the course of time. She stood by Penelope through her father’s death and her mother’s.

Emily had tried to warn her about Eric in the beginning, but Penelope just wouldn’t listen. Penelope wished so badly that she heeded her friend’s good advice. Even though Emily hated Eric (and the way he treated Penelope) she still remained close to Penelope through the entire ordeal. Right down to buying her the plane ticket to go back to Gram’s. Penelope sighed and reminded herself to call Emily later that day. It had been a few days since they talked and Emily tended to worry about her friend if she didn’t hear from her every couple of days.

Penelope finished her coffee and went inside to begin to get ready for her day. After turning on the knobs in the shower she brushed her teeth. As she finished she looked at herself in the mirror. Am I so hideous that I deserved such treatment? She questioned herself. How else could he have treated me that way? All her life she was told she was beautiful and treated as such, but lately to her the face in the mirror always resisted true form. Often it jumbled into an abstract mess of features she found somewhat attractive, but couldn’t piece together anymore.

Penelope’s self-esteem had all but faded. She convinced herself she must be vile in some way (either inside or out) to have received such cruel punishments. The fog from the hot steam of the shower filled the mirror—breaking her stare with herself and the trance it seemed to be causing.

She thought briefly of Eric while anger and hurt flushed throughout her. She mentally gazed into his cold brown eyes and was happy to find that every day that passed turned more sadness into anger—anger she could use to become reenergized.

Eric had been an exceptionally good looking man. He was used to having what he wanted. Tall, dark and had an attitude and charm that could convince anyone to do anything. Eric always got what he sought one way or another. Manipulative bastard, she thought. She remembered his accompanied attitude toward her refusal of anything—how he could twist words until his will was done. He had been a skillful lover and charming enough that for almost two years she believed her love was genuinely being returned. He had taken everything from her emotionally, physically, mentally and financially. Everything she had worked so hard for in her twenty-eight years was gone. Penelope was so humiliated and distraught that she found her way to the only remaining family she had: her grandmother’s cabin nestled in the mountains of upstate New York. She ran far and fast to nurse her wounds.

Now it was time to rebuild—though she grimaced at the thought. Prepared that her first day might be the hardest she planned to venture out to find work and try to begin life anew.

Nobody here knows you more than being Clara’s granddaughter, she told herself. The ghosts of your past cannot haunt you here. Satisfied at that thought she dressed and went down to start breakfast for her and her grandmother. Penelope took heed to tread softly over the wide old wood flooring of the log-cabin and down the stairs. She didn’t want to wake her grandmother up too early. Gram was used to waking up a bit later and finding her breakfast in the oven warming with the coffee already made.

Penelope recalled how her pride tried to make her leave after a week or so and her grandmother’s refusal. Gram told her how much of a help she was to have around and what a pleasure it was to have company. Penelope was convinced her company at the moment was quite awful so she decided to be extra helpful to try to make up for it.

She made her way to the kitchen and poured herself another cup of coffee from the pot she had made earlier. She hoped the day would prove to be more exciting than unnerving.

***

This is what makes for a decent breakfast around here? Riley teased his friend as he laid a heap of burnt eggs on the plate in front of him.

I warned you it would be no room service. His friend Tim replied.

How on earth did you burn them and still manage to have raw egg inside? Riley toyed with the un-edible mess on his plate. Perhaps we should grab a bite in town?

I told you. Tim responded.

And you’ve yet to steer me wrong, Riley laughed, I really just wanted to watch you screwing around in the kitchen wearing an apron.

Tim’s response was to toss the apron upside Riley’s head. Riley laughed even harder and grabbed his car keys. Before stepping outside Riley threw the pile into the dog bowl on the floor, but his laughter only increased as the lab turned his nose too.

Now everyone’s a critic! Tim protested.

Riley was in tears as he got into the car. He stopped himself from laughing, in spite of himself to cut his buddy a break. By the time Tim got into the Aston Martin Riley had regained composure.

Right or left on the main road? Riley asked.

Right to get to town, Tim said, left to get out.

Right it is.

So are you staying a bit? Tim asked his friend.

I have some time. Riley said knowing Tim needed support even if he tried not to show it. Tim had lost his wife to cancer last year. While Tim tried to be strong Riley knew that having him there as a distraction helped ease the transition. The deal with the winery will be closing in a few weeks. I figured I’d mooch off of you until then.

Oh, like you’ve never helped me out before, Tim laughed, I must owe you a small fortune by now.

What good is having money if you can’t use it to help the people you care about? Riley asked. I’d much rather help you out than have it rot in the bank. At least I know it’s going to good use.

Riley had come to Tim’s aid when the doctor and hospital bills began piling up and Tim risked losing everything. Riley saw no reason for Tim to lose him home and what memories he was able to hold on to on top of the traumatic experience of losing his wife. Riley saw the toll it took on his friend—watching the women he loved slowly and painfully waste away—while all he could do was try to comfort her. Riley had visited often and watched poor Sara wither away to whisper of the women she used to be. She had tried so hard to hide her suffering from Tim, but he knew too well that she would never complain about it. The last few months were the hardest and helped in Riley’s decision to open his new winery so close to Tim.

By the way, Riley started, how much do you know about grapes?

Not as much as you do, why?

I’m going to need some help when this deal is through. I’d really like a foreman I can trust and I could think of no one else I’d rather have than you.

Riley, I don’t think I could be of much use... Tim’s voice trailed off.

Nonsense, Riley said, Plus I’ve grown accustomed to your company. You’re a fast learner and I could trust you with my life.

Tim knew that once his friend had set his mind to something there was no changing it. Fine, he said, as long as I’m not required to stomp any grapes with my feet.

Riley laughed. I don’t think the wine would sell—at all—if we had you do that. Now, where is this diner?

Hang a right, here.

They approached an old building and parked in a dusty lot on the side.

***

Penelope put the finishing touches on her breakfast plate and Gram’s. She had outdone herself this morning as she found cooking therapeutic. Thick, luscious pieces of French toast mounded in heaps of cinnamon, syrup and powdered sugar. Bacon lay next to it crisped to perfection. The biscuits were steaming fresh out of the oven with freshly whipped strawberry butter to compliment it nicely. Just as Penelope set both plates in the oven to begin the dishes, her grandmother walked into the kitchen. She looked so cute—never changing with her hair pulled into a loose gray bun and her robe almost as blue as her eyes. Penelope shared those bright blue eyes with her grandmother.

Did I wake you? Penelope asked her.

No, my dear—the wonderful smell did. Her grandmother smiled at her as she opened the oven. Penelope, this looks incredible. You should look into doing this professionally. You’re so good at it.

You need professional experience to be a professional chef, Penelope said, and my experience is only my own.

Still, dear, her grandmother said—not to be silenced easily, I believe the diner in town might be looking for some help. It may be just what the doctor ordered.

Perhaps, Penelope said thoughtfully, maybe I will find my way down there after breakfast. I was thinking it was time to do something with myself.

I could tell, Gram grinned at her, you’ve been like a caged animal for a few weeks now.

It was true. Penelope had spent more than a few weeks pacing around trying to occupy herself—and more so her thoughts. Maybe this would be perfect. Throwing herself into cooking would easily distract her and if she could make a couple bucks, why not? She groaned inwardly at the thought of the bills she had piled up and ignored all winter. She hadn’t told her grandmother about them. Penelope knew if Gram found out she would insist on paying them for her and Penelope was determined to do it herself. She was usually stubborn (another trait she got from her grandmother) and her pride wouldn’t let her take handouts from anyone—no matter how much they loved her.

They finished eating and Penelope decided to take a ride down to the diner in town before she lost the nerve. Her grandmother tried to convince her to take the car, but Penelope assured her that the bike ride would give her some much needed exercise and clear her head. The truth was Penelope hated to think of her grandmother being stranded. Since Penelope was the only one of them with the physical endurance for the bicycle she decided when she’d arrived that it would be her sole mode of transportation until she could afford a car of her own. Seeing as she had become a recluse it hadn’t really bothered her or been an issue...until now.

Penelope turned the old bike down the rocky winding driveway, wobbled and tried to remember the last time she’d ridden a bike before she started off. The ride to town would be an easy downhill course. The ride back would be the much needed exercise.

Riding freely down the winding road of the mountain Penelope felt better than she had in months. She let go of the handlebars—letting her arms sail out in the wind as she had when she was a girl. The earlier chill of the morning was long forgotten in the warm spring sunlight and she felt a rush as the world whizzed by. Penelope felt so free that for a moment forgot all her troubles.

Penelope grabbed the handlebars as she approached the next curve of the road and released them again for the straightaway. She barely noticed the cars that drove past as she continued to enjoy the freedom her ride was warranting. Turn after turn down the road left her refreshed by the time she reached the small town. She pulled her bike into the dusty parking lot and leaned it up against the old wood siding of the building.

Penelope stopped for just a moment to appreciate the black Aston Martin parked in the lot and attempted to smooth back her unruly dark hair that had undone itself during her bike ride down the mountain. She finally gave up and let her hair down.

With that Penelope dusted off her clothes and braced herself for her first interaction with people in months. With more than a bit of nervousness she approached and opened the diner door.

***

Now, that was what I call a breakfast. Riley smiled. "Notice how the eggs were fluffy, not black and runny?"

Well, maybe now you will listen when I tell you: the only thing I can work in the kitchen is a microwave. Tim replied. "I do not expect to be inclined to cook again."

Oh, don’t worry, said Riley. Once was enough.

The bell on the door jangled as it opened. Riley sat facing the door and he glanced up. What he thought was going to be a simple glance changed instantly into a stare. The women who stood in the doorway caught his attention for more than a moment as he forgot his conversation and even his friend. So much so that Tim turned around to see what his friend was gawking at.

She wasn’t very young, but definitely not old either. Her hair was a dark chestnut and full of a life of its own. It fell in wavy masses past her shoulders. Her eyes were a bright blue and her face flushed brightly as she glanced their way while heading for the counter. Soft, feminine features with full lips graced her face. Her body was slender and she filled out her curves graciously as her jeans hugged her hips.

Tim let out a slow whistle.

You know her? Riley asked.

I haven’t seen her around town before. Tim saw the look in his friend’s eye.

That’s a shame, Riley said getting up. Now I’m going to have to introduce myself.

***

Penelope made her way through the door—almost jumping as the bell rang. She glanced around quickly to figure out where exactly she should go to inquire for work. Feeling eyes linger over her, Penelope glanced left and noticed a man staring. Even sitting she could tell he was tall. His build suited him well with broad shoulders and obvious muscle...though not enough to throw off the lean, lanky look of him. Penelope felt her face flush with color as she noticed the fullness of his lips, the green of his eyes and the way his jaw curved. Thick dark hair completed the package.

Penelope hurried toward the counter to inquire for work. Even if she found the man attractive she had no head or heart for one at this time. She waited patiently for the waitress to finish with her customer.

Excuse me miss, Penelope jumped as she realized he was now next to her. She tried to