Page 23 of Enemies in Earnest

“Did he now?” Dr. Krane paused in the middle of chiding the servers about the way they presently rolled the napkins around silverware to insert himself into our conversation.

“We had to sleep at MariJo’s house last night.” She winked at Asher. “And it wasn’t because Edwin’s house was being fumigated.”

The man with the tattoos whose name I remembered wasBearcleared his throat, obviously as uncomfortable as I was discussing my personal details with the group.

“Oh! Yeah.” Felicity turned to them. “Acacia, you remember my friends from last night, Marley and her husband Bear.”

We all nodded our good afternoons, and the three of them took a seat on the stools in front of me.

“This place is beautiful.” Marley turned in her stool to take in the full extent of my pub. “I love all the dark wood.”

“It reminds me of this place in Spain we went to.” Bear continued for her, “This bar that almost looks like it will be a hole in the wall on the outside, but then you go in and it’s just unbelievably spacious.”

“Yes, the Café Iruna,” Dr. Krane recalled “Acacia’s mother is from Pamplona, and I’m certain it had some influence. Though, having been to both, Temperance is unrivaled. Both in the food and the company.”

I preened. While I never actively sought anyone’s approval, hearing Dr. Krane’s compliments warmed me. Sure, he spent a lot of time here, and I assumed it was because he enjoyed my bar—you never truly know for sure.

“Dr. Asher Krane?” Marley asked, sliding off her stool and inching closer to where he stood toward the end of the bar.

“I am. And you are?” he asked, extending his hand.

I saw it. Mere seconds before Marley introduced herself. It was in the way they both cocked their heads and considered one another.

“Did you work at Dartmouth?” She inquired “As the director of the Shakespeare festival?”

It was Asher’s turn to preen. And if he’d been a peacock, his entire plume would be on display. A look of total pleasure that washed away the consternation wrinkling his forehead.

“Why, yes young lady, I am! How nice to have a fellow fan of the old Bard all the way down here.”

Marley rifled through her backpack and pulled out the same tattered playbill she’d shown Felicity the night before. As she held the playbill in his direction, an entire story poured from her lips.

“My mom died a few years ago. When I cleaned out her things, I found a picture of her in a dress. I thought it was a wedding dress but it wasn’t. It was fromA Midsummer’s Night Dreamat Dartmouth. But my husband, Ted—this is Ted—” she wrapped her arm around his shoulders before continuing. “Ted found this playbill. The playbill where she tellsAKthat her cherry lips will kiss yours again.”

I felt as if I sat in the front row at Wimbledon. All of us followed the conversation back and forth between the two of them. We all watched Marley as she spoke, and would pivot our heads to watch Asher’s reaction, only to pivot back once again to watch Marley.

“She ended up dropping out of Dartmouth and moving to North Pole, New York, because she was pregnant. No one ever knew who the father was,” Marley pressed. “But A.K. matched with Asher Krane, who was the director ofA Midsummer’s Night Dream. And I was born about seven months after that play.”

The dots connected. Her suggestion hung in the air as if it were a physical mass that we all acknowledged. Asher had never been the stoic type. Not in the three years I’d known him. But witnessing Marley lay out the details of a sordid teacher/student affair starring one Dr. Asher Krane? I didn’t even know how to react. I should have given them some privacy. At the very least offered my office for them to work it out. But I was frozen. Just as the rest of us were. Like a bunch of oldnonnaswatching our telenovelas.

“Asher?” I prodded, immediately regretting sticking my nose in.

“Her name was Joy,” Marley continued. “Joy Jacobs. I’m her daughter, Marley. And I think you might be my dad.”

ChapterSeventeen

I watchedAcacia and her crew buzz around the pub getting things ready for Hemingway Day. She glowed. Even from where I was perched by our shared grassy knoll, I could see her practically skipping back and forth as she laughed and joked with her team while they set up the pub for the next day’s activities.

She’d donned a pair of well-worn jean shorts that showed off the legs I’d spent hours worshipping the night before, and another one of her esoteric t-shirts. Today’s featured a pop-color image of Edgar Alan Poe mashed up with theThat’s So Ravenlogo. Fuck, she was cute. Seeing her in those next to nothing shorts had me wanting to sneak up behind her, bend her over her bar, and press my fingers into her from one of those tiny leg holes.

“D’ya hear? Storm’s coming.” AJ, our resident boat mechanic sauntered over from where he’d been tinkering on one of the boats in the harbor. He was sporting a red touristy t-shirt that saidGot my Holly Jollies at Candy Cane Key. Though there was boat grease all over his shirt, so it made it hard to make the full sentence out.

“Storms are always coming, AJ. I hardly pay attention.”

I surveyed the collection of items I’d packed in the back of my truck. Everything for a perfect picnic. Big, fluffy blankets, an entire smorgasbord of foods packed in stay cool containers, fancy overpriced wine that needed special oversized glasses to allow the bouquet to breathe before enjoying. I received a full rundown of how to truly appreciate it by the resident wine connoisseur at the grocery store.

A glance at my watch told me I could steal away my new girlfriend in less than fifteen minutes for our date. Back to the place where it started. Well, not like we had to really travel anywhere since it was directly between our two businesses.

“This one’s fixing to be a doozy,” he said, rubbing at his sun kissed neck. “Say it might become a Cat One.”

---