“They raved about it all night,” Holly assured him. “Mrs. Sutton kept giggling and whispering about the aphrodisiac effects of shellfish through dinner. Do I have you to thank for that?”
Ben laughed. “I assure you,thatwas not highlighted on the tour.”
“Well, you saved us all. What could have been a disaster turned into a hit.”
“I take it your lobster boil went off without a hitch?” After the tour had ended, he couldn’t help but wonder how they were all faring at the Cranberry.
“I’m going to have bonuses and overtime to contend with, but my staff rolled with it. I owe them a lot.” Hearing the pleasantbuzz of activity in the background, he found himself almost wishing he were there. Standing in the kitchen yesterday as Holly circled the wagons, he’d been left with a sense of teamsmanship he’d never felt in his law firm. No doubt they were an odd group, from the serious Swede to the tightly wound manager to the old neighbor who always seemed to be hanging around with a paintbrush, but somehow they worked. “I can’t thank you enough,” Holly said again.
“You can thank me by coming down to the farm. It’s quiet here today. I’d love to show you around.”
“Today? Oh, I couldn’t possibly. We just wrapped a somewhat muddled brunch and barely got everyone out the door to the spa on time. And the big rehearsal dinner is tonight.”
Things were certainly hectic for Holly workwise, but he wondered if that was her only reason for declining. It wasn’t exactly a mystery why they hadn’t been in touch the last few years.
“Well, if you change your mind, I’m here. And I think it would be worth your while.”
“Worth my while?” She sounded skeptical.
“I have a business idea that I think could benefit both of us.”
“Sounds intriguing, but I’m afraid I’m barely managing the business I have.” She let out a nervous laugh. “You know how it is, starting something new.”
He did know. It was the reason for his call. Last night had inspired him, and he wanted to strike while the iron was hot. Besides, if he was totally honest, he wanted an excuse to talk to Holly again.
On the other hand, he’d dealt with the Suttons himself. Their daughter must have interrupted a hundred times on the tour, asking him to stop the boat or pause the talk or move outof the light while she snapped photos and posed with her bridal party. She didn’t stop talking until he finally shoved a glass of wine in one of her hands and an oyster in the other. “We can try another time,” he relented.
Holly grew quiet on the other end of the line, and he figured he’d lost her already. Then, “How’s right now?”
“Now?” His heart quickened. “I thought you were flat out.”
“Honestly, it’s been a rough twenty-four hours. I’m just glad my grandmother wasn’t here to see how rough.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Let’s say I could use a change of scenery. But we need to keep it short and sweet. There’s still so much to do up here, and the bridal party will be back soon and then—”
“Short and sweet,” he interjected. “Now let’s get you down here, before you talk yourself out of it.”
He was waiting for her in the small parking lot on the landing. When she stepped out of her car, the first thought he had was how pretty she looked in her linen jacket and slacks. The second was that they weren’t exactly the kind of clothes you wore out on the oyster beds. He’d take the boat instead of the barge.
“I escaped,” she said triumphantly. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ve left the inn for three days!”
“Welcome to Oyster Boys.” He was so tempted to give her a hug, but she’d crossed her arms.Stick to business, he reminded himself. That’s what this was about, after all.
“I haven’t been down to this landing since I was a kid.” She looked up and down, from the marine repair shop by the boat ramp to the fishing charter company housed in a shingledcottage right next to his. “It’s so quiet and private down here. Didn’t we used to fish off this boat launch?”
“We did. And yes, I like the neighborhood feel. It’s not too commercial.”
He showed her inside to the small tasting room. “In the back is my office and downstairs, at the dock level, is the oyster processing room.”
Holly wiggled her nose. “It doesn’t stink like fish.”
“No.” He laughed. “I hope not.”
He watched as she walked around the tasting room, between the three small tables they’d set up for guests and up to the bar at the front, overlooking the water. “That’s where we shuck and serve, fresh from the water.”
She sat on a stool and inspected the shelves lined with local wines and spirits, then at the chalkboard hanging on the wall by the window with the daily menu. “Good offerings.” She ran her hand over the wooden bar that he’d fashioned himself, from a piece of reclaimed driftwood. “Nice touch.”
