He laughed. “Call it whatever you like, Wendy. But the stew is ready. Want to bring those bowls over here?”
Before long they were enjoying what was probably the best meal she’d had in years. Whether it was the good food or the good company, she could tell her guard was going down. But the more they visited, the more she realized that Caleb knew more about her than she knew of him.
“Sounds like you’ve been doing your research,” she said as he set a second bowl of fisherman’s stew before her.
“Jackson’s a good conversationalist.”
“But it puts me at a disadvantage. Or maybe I should interrogate my son about you.”
“I’m pretty much an open book. If you want to know anything—just ask away.”
“I do have one question ... How is it that a guy like you—a superb cook who lives in a gorgeous home—has not been snatched up by now?” She studied him closely.
He shrugged. “Well, it’s not that I haven’t had opportunity.”
“Obviously. I mean, I’ve seen Crystal.”
He wrinkled his nose. “She’s not my type.”
“What is your type?”
His eyes twinkled. “What doyouthink?”
She felt her cheeks grow warm. “I think the rumors I’ve heard are true.”
“What rumors?”
“That you’re a confirmed bachelor.”
He laughed. “Maybe so.”
“So are you saying you’ve never met a woman who was your type?”
“No, I’m not saying that.” He took another piece of bread. “There was someone.”
“Aha.” She nodded. “Tell me more.”
“Maggie Stewart.” His tone grew wistful. “She was a local girl. Very sweet and pretty. The kind of person who could light up a room when she entered. To be honest, she was my first love, but I was pretty shy back then. And Maggie Stewart was so popular and so sure of herself ... well, I knew she was out of my league—so I sort of worshiped her from afar.”
“And?”
“Anyway, Maggie’s family used to own a furniture store—”
“Stewart’s Fine Furnishings,” Wendy supplied. “My grandma bought a recliner there. It’s still in the house ... well, at least for a while. I plan to let it go soon.”
“Maggie worked there after school and in the summers. And I worked at She Sells sometimes. That’s sort of how we first became friends—when we were both seventeen. She was so outgoing that she went after me. I could hardly believe it. By our senior year, we were dating pretty steadily, and after graduation, we both went to UNE ... and we continued dating.” He got a sad, faraway look, and Wendy regretted pushing him. She suspected that the popular young woman had found someone else and broken his heart. Maybe it was still painful.
“So it ended badly?” she finally said. “You both went your separate ways?”
“Sort of. She died in a car wreck shortly before college graduation.”
“Oh ... I’m so sorry.”
He barely nodded. “We were engaged by then, planning to get married that summer. I was totally devastated by her death. That’s when I decided to take a job in New York. I guess I hoped to lose myself in the big city. But after a few years, I got homesick for Seaside and a quieter life. I’d always loved woodworking, so Nana encouraged me to start my own business and helped me get set up. And I’ve just been working really hard ever since. I had some pretty lean years early on—after the economy tanked. But it’s steadily picked up. I guess my best excuse for not having been snatched up, as you say, was that I’ve been too busy. Oh, I’ve dated now and then. Friends and family are always trying to set me up. But the right woman just never came along.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Wendy broke the silence. “Well, I know how hard it is to lose someone you love,” she said quietly. “And I appreciate you sharing your story with me, Caleb.”
He changed the conversation to happier things, asking about her cottage renovations and giving her some useful tips for bringing the pine floor in the kitchen back to life. As she helped him clean up after dinner, Wendy was surprised at how relaxed and comfortable she felt with him now. Familiar ... and good. But it was also a bit disconcerting. She wasn’t used to feeling like this—or being alone with a man in his home.
