I open my email and scroll down the list of new messages. The majority are work related and given the short duration of the flight, I know that I won't have time to answer any of them when I'm in the air. I forward a trio of the urgent ones to Clive, along with a text asking him to reply to them as soon as he gets them.
I scroll back to my text messages and swipe my thumb down to Asher's name. I type out a short message telling him I miss him and I'll be away for a few days but he can call at any time. I stare at the screen willing the new message icon to pop up but there's nothing. Asher still isn't responding and even though I'm clinging tightly to the notion that he's fine and has tucked himself away so he can deal with whatever has pulled him down, I know that sooner or later I'm going to have to face the reality that he may not come back, or he may be unable to. It's too soon to think that yet though and for this weekend at least, I'm going to believe he's healthy, safe and thinking about coming home.
I pull in a heavy breath as I hear the announcement of my flight. My heart may not want to leave New York, even if it's just for a few days, but my mind needs to. With any luck, I'll find the serenity I need to come back here, stronger, more focused and less Caleb Foster obsessed.
***
"You'll stay for lunch, dear." His brows pop up in excited anticipation. "We're having fish today. You like fish, don't you?"
It's not my first choice but I'm not one to be picky when the invitation is coming from one of the sweetest people I've ever met.
When Clive told me I needed to fly out to Martha's Vineyard to secure the transfer of the rights to a software program, I had visions of meeting an arrogant developer who would fight me tooth and nail on every detail. Instead, I was greeted at the door of a quaint cottage by a man in his eighties who has an office filled with computers, a garden overflowing with roses and a smile that could melt the heart of even the darkest soul.
Ernie Jacobs has a brilliant mind and a lonely heart. I sensed it the moment he led me into this sitting room. The furniture consists of a perfect blend of modern pieces and antiques and the walls are dotted with photographs of a beautiful woman. They create a timeline of a rich life. I studied the image of the blonde haired beauty standing next to a young Ernie as they pledged their vows on their wedding day. The holiday family portrait of the two of them surrounded by their children and grandchildren captures the spirit of joy that is present in all their faces and the image of an elderly woman in the garden staring at the man behind the camera with a look of tender adoration in her eyes, speaks of a love that knows no boundaries of time or circumstance.
"She passed just last year." His voice cracks. "It's hard not to stare, isn't it? She was the most beautiful thing in the world."
I don't know much about enduring love. My parent's marriage fell apart beneath the burden of my father's affair. My mother couldn't shoulder the pain and she'd thrown him out into the street, literally. He'd come home from work one day to find everything he owned, scattered in a thoughtless mess on the sidewalk in front of our townhouse. It had been the beginning of the end of our ideal family. It all came to a crashing halt in the corridor of a courtroom in Queens with vile words being thrown around. I'd managed to maintain a relationship with each of my parents but with my mother in Florida and my father in Connecticut, it meant once-a-year visits and empty conversations on the phone.
"She was very lovely," I concur. "I'd really like to stay for lunch."
"That's fantastic." He claps his hands together. "It will give me time to show you the other programs I've developed."
"There's more?" I ask with a wide grin on my face. This man knows more about computer software than almost anyone I've ever met which says a lot considering the fact that I work for the most influential tech company on the east coast.
"I've put together some apps." He winks at me. "Some of them are for young folks like you."
"You know what an app is?" I try not to giggle as I ask.
He taps the bottom of his cane against the arm of the chair I'm sitting in. "Mark my words, you're going to want the rights to every single app I have."
Chapter 31
"Carly will drive you down to the ferry, dear." He limps across the floor towards my suitcase and purse. "Are you meeting your fellow in the Hamptons?"
It's a question that I should have seen coming. Ernie may have a pulse on what's hot in the tech world but when it comes to romance the man is old school through and through. The stories he told over our three course lunch about the endearing things he did for his late wife are proof of that. He's a keeper and if I was an octogenarian, I'd be making a fast move on this man.
"I don't have a fellow at the moment," I say with a small smile. It's been longer than a moment if I'm being honest.
He pushes the wire rimmed glasses he's wearing to the tip of his nose so he can peer over them. "You don't have a fellow? How is that possible?"
Flattery is the only thing I need right now after Caleb turned me down on the spot last night. I should ask Ernie if can stay the weekend in his guest room. The man is full of compliments, which means my self-esteem meter would be off the charts by Sunday evening. "Men in New York are fickle. I'm still looking for the right one."
"The right one will almost always be a friend first. If you have a fellow who is a friend and you have a sweet spot for him, he might be the one."
Or he might be a raving lunatic who thinks it's entertaining to talk dirty to me before he rejects me. "I don't have any friends who would be the right one."
"Don't be too quick to rule out a friend." He gently grabs my elbow as he leads us out of the dining room. "You never know when love is waiting around the corner."
I used to think that. Now I know better. When it comes to Caleb the only thing waiting for me is a fractured friendship and the embarrassment of knowing I poured out all of my deepest desires to him and he shut me down.
***
"You want to go back to Martha's Vineyard?" Clive's voice breaks up slightly as he asks the question.
I turn up the volume on my phone, hoping that it will drown out all of the traffic noise. Clive had thoughtfully arranged to have me picked up at the ferry dock by a private driver. He'd made certain that the car was a convertible, which would have been spectacular given the gorgeous weather and scenic views. The problem is that I can barely hear anything he's saying to me so I can only assume the same is true on his end. "Ernie has developed a lot of great stuff. He's willing to sell the rights to us if we want them. I think we have to jump on it."
"What?" He yells into the receiver. "I can't hear you, Rowan."