“My grandfather taught me, if you must know. It’s a skill I’ve never forgotten.”
Joel left her to it and went into the kitchen. “Now I understand why you kept choosing to look at properties with fireplaces, when we started house-hunting.” It seemed incredible that after twenty years together, there were still things he didn’t know about her.
“Which came to nothing, when the house we both fell in love with didn’t have one. And when did I have the opportunity to light a fire? It’s not like we ever went camping.” She chuckled. “Now, why was that? Oh yeah. ‘Too many bugs.’ ‘A bear might eat the tent.’”
“Hey, bears do that,” he protested.
Another wry chuckle. “How long have you had the dog?” she inquired. “It’s Bramble, I think you said?”
“Yeah. A couple of weeks. I got him the first weekend after I moved in here. And be warned. He’ll lick you to death.”
Seconds later, a peal of laughter bounced off the high ceiling. “Bramble, that tickles. My ears are perfectly clean, thank you.”
Joel grinned. “Ear-baths are his specialty.”
“Sit. Sit. Let me make up the fire, needy puppy.”
Joel chuckled quietly. Bramble was clearly enjoying meeting two new humans in one day.
“I like this place.”
Joel smiled to himself. “You’re right, it is cute. Go take a look, once you’ve gotten the fire going.”
Carrie laughed. “Let me guess. You already cleaned up because you knew I was coming, so I’m not going to find anything incriminating.”
“Incriminating implies something illegal or wrong. Wanna rethink that word choice?” Joel took two mugs from the cabinet and placed them next to the coffee pot.
Carrie walked into view in socked feet. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just that you kept a huge part of you hidden, for so long. It got me wondering if you kept anything else hidden too.”
“If you’re that interested, my gay magazines are on the bookcase next to the rocker. They’re in plain sight. And before you ask, we’re not talking erotica, so I wouldn’t feel the need to hide them when the kids visit.” His throat seized. If they visit. There’d been little communication since he’d first moved out. They blame me for the divorce. That much had been obvious from the start. And as for leaving the magazines in plain sight, Joel knew that was a lie. He’d bury them under a mountain of laundry, rather than let the kids find them.
Maybe one day. But that day didn’t look like it would arrive anytime soon.
“They’ll come around, Joel.” Carrie’s voice was soft.
He glanced at her, noting the strong eye contact. “That obvious, huh?”
“I told them I was the one who asked for a divorce, but they seemed to take that as a sign—well, Nate did—that I was trying to get away from you, so you must have done something to warrant it.”
“Of course. But he’s not wrong, is he?” The coffee pot beeped, and Joel filled the mugs with the aromatic brew.
Carrie walked over and took one. She gazed at the kitchen with its round white table and four chairs. “This is plenty big enough for you.” She laid a hand on his arm. “And yes, he is wrong. We got divorced because we’d grown apart. We were more like roommates than a married couple.” Carrie wrapped both hands around her mug.
“And why were we like that? Because of me.”
She inclined her head toward the living room. “How about we sit by the fire while we talk?” Her lips twitched. “That’s if it’s still going.”
Joel snorted. “Aha. So you’re admitting your fire-lighting skills might not be as good as you claim.” They went into the living room area. Carrie hurried over to the fire, kneeling in front of it, and he chuckled. “Oops.”
Carrie grinned. “Oh ye of little faith.” She grabbed some of the kindling from the log basket, added it to the fire, then blew gently on it. The flames burst into life, and she placed a single log on top. Carrie gave a flourish. “Ta-da.”
Joel was impressed. “Okay, I take it back.”
She brought the armchair closer, then sat in it, warming her hands.
Joel sat in his rocker, and Bramble came over to him, his head resting on Joel’s knee, his tail wagging. Joel stroked Bramble’s sleek head. “Good boy,” he whispered. Bramble’s tail picked up speed.
“How far is it to the beach from here?” Carrie asked.
“Depends on which route I take. The shortest is past the fire department, left at Clock Farm Corner, and down Dyke Road, where the village