Page 10 of Big Witch Energy

Ben supposed Isabelle had done him a favor, leaving him, and not dragging the kids along with her to her new life in Denver—giving him the excuse to move the family back to his hometown. Apparently, her new doctor didn’t like the idea of having teenagers around that he wasn’t directly obligated to like. It hurt the kids, at first, but Ben supposed that his ex had done them a favor, too, making her allegiances clear. It wasn’t easy for a woman in her forties to catch a man like Tom Winthrop the Third, after all. Isabelle wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize this chance at “real happiness.” She’d told Ben so multiple times when she’d signed primary custody over to him.

Did Clark actually know about any of this, or was he simply inferring? As an officer of the court, he would have access to records detailing Ben’s divorce, but why would he bother digging them up? It seemed like overkill for what was supposed to be a routine business meeting. Maybe Clark was just plain nosy?

Given the way Clark was smirking at him…yeah, he knew something.

“It’s easy to say you’re moving back in the spring,” Clark said. “You’ll be back in Arizona when your kids have decided they don’t want to live through a second winter here. They’d miss their mother, I would think. Kids need their mother, after all. And single fatherhood… I don’t know if that’s something someone with your low stress tolerance is cut out for.”

Ben’s left hand flexed at his side.

Nope, nope. Punching a lawyer was the very essence of stupid, and he was trying to serve as a non-stupid example to his children.

In the next room, Ben heard Norma Oviette gasp in indignation. Good. Her employer had said something shitty, and Ben hoped it got reported to the Nana Grapevine. There was no justice swifter than justice imposed by the Nana Grapevine.

“If it’s a question of buying myself out of the remaining three weeks, I’m willing to do that,” Ben said calmly. “But since we’re being a stickler about contracts, I can’t help but notice there’s no provision for that, if there are no rentals pending.”

Clark’s smile faltered a bit. “No, there’s not.”

“So, I’ll just present you with this letter, written by my own attorney at Wendlin, Archer, and Smith, officially severing my relationship with Martin Property Management and asking that any final deposits of funds be delivered within sixty days. After that, any contact should be directed through my attorney, even contact from you.” Never mind that Ben’s attorney was a former college roommate he’d called “Smitty,” who’d been known for setting his own farts aflame. Smitty had grown quite a bit since then.

“So, you’re requesting that I don’t contact you, either?” Clark asked.

“Not in connection to anything to do with Martin Property Management or Clifford,” Ben replied.

The unspoken “I’m OK with you not contacting me at all” hung between them like a fog of gingivitis breath.

“Have a nice day,” Ben told him, before getting up from the chair and walking out.

“I was really sorry to hear you and your wife split up,” Norma said quietly as he passed her desk. Norma had always been a kind lady, who pickled cucumbers she planted in her own yard, then shared them all winter. “But I think your youngsters are going to be happy here. Belinda always wanted them to come see her at the cottage.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Oviette,” Ben said, swallowing heavily at the mention of his mother.

“Oh, I think you can call me ‘Norma,’” she assured him.

He thought of Belinda Hoult, and what she would have thought of him calling a woman in her early sixties by her first name. “No, I don’t think can.”

Norma snorted, her deep-brown skin crinkling at the corners of her eyes. “You’re a good boy.”

Ben laughed, and as he moved toward the door, he glanced back into Clark’s office. The façade of the casually confident attorney about town was gone, and there was a reptilian anger glittering in Clark’s eyes—icy and calculating. For a moment, Ben wondered whether he’d just made a mistake, provoking Clark Graves.

Opening the front door, Ben sucked in a breath as the frigid air enveloped him. And then he lost it all over again when he realized that Caroline was only a few feet away, walking toward the Main Square. She had a dark-blue knit hat pulled over her ears, and her cheeks were pinked by the wind, making her eyes sparkle like amber. His heart gave a little lurch of nostalgia mixed with longing. He was really going to have to get that under control.

Maybe he should just stay still? Like she wouldn’t see him if he just didn’t move.

It was really a bad sign when you started treating an ex-girlfriend like a T. rex, particularly when she’d done little to deserve dinosaur treatment.

Oh, no, she’d noticed him. And he was just standing still like an idiot involved in his own personal mannequin challenge.

And she was still looking at him.

“Um, Caroline, hi,” he said.

She gave him a smile that was sort of shaky, like she wasn’t sure how it was supposed to fit across her face. “Hey, Ben.”

“Sorry about the awkward reintroduction last night, with the screaming kids and the confused friends and the…again, the screaming kids. That’s just not how I thought that moment would go, seeing you after all these years. I always pictured me being alone with you…” He paused, his head dropping almost to his chest. “And when this moment played out in my head, I thought it would sound a lot less creepy.”

She snorted, but she didn’t say anything. And that wasn’t good because the cruel part of his brain that felt the compulsion to fill awkward silence made him continue babbling. “I guess we’re going to have to get used to this again, bumping into each other.”

Her dark brows quirked up. “It’s a small island, Ben. I can handle it if you can.”

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