Page 36 of A Love So Sweet
TREAT DROVE DOWN the narrow road leading to his bungalow overlooking the bay early Thursday evening. He’d forgotten the Oyster Festival was this weekend, which meant driving anywhere on the Cape took hours rather than minutes. He rounded the last bend carefully, avoiding the enormous rosebush that he continually forgot to ask the gardener to trim back.Knock Out roses. Max’s favorite flowers.He’d listened to Max’s voicemail message twice after his last meeting, missing her so much he debated flying home tonight, but he was excited to show her around Wellfleet over the weekend. He’d called her back, but the call had gone to voicemail and he’d had to leave a message.
The bungalow came into view and he parked on the seashell driveway. He hadn’t had time to drop off his bags before his first meeting, though he’d called Smitty, the caretaker who watched over the house. Smitty had known Treat’s mother, and he’d always had an affinity for Treat. He knew the bungalow would be stocked with enough groceries for the weekend, there would be wood by the fireplace, the windows would be open to air the place out, and the beds would have freshly washed linens.
Inhaling the salty sea air, he retrieved his bags and headed up the front steps. The Cape had a rejuvenating effect on him, like coming up for air after being underwater, and tonight was no different. The only thing that would make it better was if Max were with him to share in what had been one of his mother’s favorite places. They’d rented this bungalow on several occasions when he was young, before his mother had become too sick to travel. As soon as it had gone on the market, Treat had purchased it.
He climbed the front steps, taking in the weathered cedar shingles. He could almost hear his mother’s voice.Oh, Treaty, look! The shingles have weathered. Don’t you just love the graying and the texture of them?She’d loved anything where each of the pieces that held it together were different from the rest.
Inside, he set his luggage by the door and dropped his keys in the pottery bowl on the kitchen table. The curtains whipped around the open casement windows. He stood in the breeze and stared out over the bay. Goose bumps formed on his arms, and he found the thick, gray cable-knit sweater his mother had knitted for his father lying on the arm of the sofa table.Good old Smitty.He slipped it on, and a strange feeling came over him, as if he were not alone. He looked around the cozy space, and if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought his mother were right there with him, pleased that he was wearing that sweater. A strand of guilt tugged at his heart for dismissing his father’s beliefs so easily.
He wondered what Max was up to and hoped she was out for a girls’ night with Kaylie and their friends.
A knock sounded at the door, and he went to answer it, wondering if Smitty was checking on him. His childhood friend, Charley “Chuck” Holtz, stood before him.
More gray than brown up top and more belly than muscle in the middle, Chuck beamed with the same vibrancy he’d always possessed. “TB!”
“Chuck, how are you?” Treat waved him in, and they greeted each other with a manly hug.
“Smitty told me he opened the old place up for you. I was on my way into town and figured I’d stop by. Haven’t seen you in a while. What brings you out?” Chuck had a thick New England accent.
“Just closing negotiations on some property.” He and Max had reason to celebrate this weekend. After hours of negotiations, the owners of the Ocean Edge Resort had agreed to his terms. He wanted to tell Max before he shared the news with anyone else.
“Must be nice. Man, I’d kill to get my hands on more property up here, but it’s too pricey for my blood. I’m meeting Bonnie at the Pearl for dinner. Why don’t you join us? You won’t get reservations anywhere else this weekend, and eating alone is no fun. We’ll surprise her. She tells everyone she knows about you. You know how that goes. Around here you’re a big deal, a big fish in a small pond.” He winked.
The last thing Treat wanted to deal with was to be shown off like a trophy, but he adored Bonnie, and he knew she was just proud of his accomplishments. “Why not.”
“Great. Let’s go.” Chuck headed for the door.
“Now?” Treat looked down at his suit. He desperately needed a shower. He touched his chin.And a shave.
“You’re right. Go get out of that monkey suit and put on some comfy clothes.”
“All right, then. Just give me a few minutes to wash up and change.” He picked up his bags and said, “I’ll meet you there.”
“Nah, I’ll wait.”
On the way upstairs, Treat said, “Make yourself at home.” He heard the refrigerator open and the clink of beer bottles.Good old Smitty.
“I already am,” Chuck called up.
MAX STARED AT her phone, wishing it had a direct line to Treat. She’d Googled his name, hoping to find the street where his house was located so she could surprise him, but of course he was too private to have that information listed. His phone number was restricted, for heaven’s sake. Where the heck was fate when she needed it? At least she’d gotten a direct flight to Boston, and the rental car agent had been efficient. She followed the GPS toward Wellfleet. It was a straight shot up the Mid-Cape Highway, which ended at a rotary in Orleans. With less than twelve miles to go, she’d be in Wellfleet in no time.
Traffic moved at a snail’s pace around the rotary, and when she pulled onto the main road, it came to a grinding halt.
Twenty minutes later, she was still stuck in traffic. She’d entered Eastham, a quaint little town with cottages and a few shops off the main drag. Treat had said it was the off season, but as she inched down the narrow highway, she noticed that each of the cottage rental communities had No Vacancy signs out front. She was in desperate need of a bathroom, and she had absolutely no idea where Treat’s house was. Finally, after sitting in traffic for what felt like forever, she pulled into the parking lot of a Four Points Sheraton.
The expansive lobby was packed with people milling around the registration desk. She squeezed between a large man and a petite blonde and spotted a sign for the restroom. After using the facilities, she tried to make her way through the lobby again, but there were even more people blocking her path now.
“Excuse me,” she said to a middle-aged man.
“Sorry, hon. We’re waiting for the rest of our club members to arrive. You can squeeze right between those two women.”
Max looked at the two plump women who were deep in conversation and standing so close together that there was no way she’d get through. She looked back at the gentleman who had suggested it, and he held up his index finger.
“Harriet, Kelly, please let this young woman through,” he said in a friendly tone.
The women parted, never pausing their conversation, and Max slipped by, then wove around two children and another couple and finally reached the desk.
“Excuse me. Is there a back road into Wellfleet?” Max asked the white-haired woman behind the desk. “The main road is really backed up.”
