"I swear, Estella, you should have seen the two of them! They were like two junkyard dogs fighting over the same bone!"
The lovely redhead leaned back and fumbled with her napkin, wiping the tears of laughter out of her eyes. "Oh God, I wish I could have been there! A researcher? He actually said that?"
Barbara sniffed and wiped at her own eyes, trying desperately to control the spurts of laughter that kept rising up to overwhelm her. "Yes! And when Mark asked if his work was on sealife, all he said was 'Sometimes'."
With a lightning-quick move, Estella sat forward and grabbed at the saltshaker, shifting it out of the reach of the blonde toddler sitting next to her. "No, Cricket, don't do that."
"Mine!" the child retorted, looking at her mother rebelliously.
"I don't think so, sweetheart. Here, this is yours." Estella handed her a plush stuffed duck. The child looked at it for a minute and then dropped it on the floor and strained forward again, reaching for a knife on the table in front of her. "No, Cricket. Not that either. You play with your duck."
"No!" the child said stubbornly and reached back toward the table behind her.
"Christine Elena Velasquez Bannon, you stop that this instant! You insisted that we bring that duck. Don't you want to play with it?" Estella picked the stuffed animal up off the floor and inspected it carefully. "He looks pretty lonely to me . . ."
That caused the little girl's forehead to furrow and she reached out for the duck. Estella handed it to her and the child settled back happily in the highchair. The harried mother shook her head at her companion. "What ever made me think I was up to more children?"
Barbara grinned and wagged a finger at her friend. "It's your own fault. You should have been happy after Emily was born. But no, you just had to try again for that boy."
Estella glared at her friend. "It wasn't like we planned the second pregnancy, if you'll remember. Furthermore, you told me it was unlikely I'd be able to get pregnant again after all the trouble I had with Emily."
Barbara held up her hands defensively. "What did I know? And it all turned out well in the end, anyway, because Race got his son."
"And another daughter. I suppose I should have anticipated twins, considering I am one." Estella's eyes lit up as she steered the conversation back to more recent events. "So you were telling me about Mark Renquist and Benton."
"'Sometimes', he says. I'll tell you, it was all I could do not to burst out laughing right then and there."
"I don't know how you didn't." Then she sobered. "It's not like Benton to be catty, Barbara. Is the guy really that pompous?"
"Oh, he can be. There's no doubt about that. And by the time Benton left, Mark was at his absolute worst. But then, Benton deliberately pushed all of his buttons, too. The truth is, Mark Renquist can also be absolutely charming when he wants to be. And when he lets down all of his walls he is . . . is . . ."
"What?" Estella asked, looking intrigued.
Barbara sighed. "I can't even begin to describe it. There's a vulnerability to him that very few people ever see. The real man . . . the one that stays so hidden . . . I'll tell you, Estella, that man is one no woman could resist."
"Is he good looking?"
"Oh, yes. And a whole lot more than comfortable financially. I know a lot of women who would jump at the possibility of landing Mark Renquist."
Estella looked at her companion for a long moment and then asked, "And what about Barbara Mason? Is she one of those women?"
Barbara's eyes fell before Estella's penetrating stare. "Honestly? I . . . I don't really know. There was a time when I was absolutely crazy about him. In fact, we talked seriously about marriage and he even gave me a ring. But that was a long time ago. Now . . . now I guess I don't really know."
"What caused you to change your mind about marrying him?" Estella asked.
"Differing goals, mainly. He was looking to be a big time, high profile surgeon in a large city where he could become wealthy." Barbara looked at her companion seriously. "You have to understand, Estella. Mark grew up extremely poor in the deep south where his family did whatever odd jobs they could come up with. The wealthy families called them white trash and Mark was always told that he would never amount to anything. He pulled himself up out of that through sheer will and determination. His arrogance and sarcasm are simply the defense mechanisms he learned when he was very young."
"It sounds like he had a really tough time."
Barbara nodded. "He did." She sighed, her eyes growing sad. "I was with him the night they called to tell him that his parents had died. They were walking along the side of a road on their way back home. The two sons of one of the wealthy local landowners were out joyriding and hit both of them. To give the kids credit, they did go for help, but the nearest hospital wouldn't treat them because they couldn't pay for the services. Oh, the hospital claimed that wasn't the reason, but that's what it came down to, all the same. By the time they were transferred to the local county hospital, it was too late. Mark swore that night that he would never be poor again."
"So he chose to become a big city surgeon as a way out," Estella said, nodding with understanding. "What about the young Barbara Mason . . . why was she there?"
"All I ever wanted was to get my education and then come back to this area and try to give back at least some of the things I felt I had gained by being raised here. But it was way too small for Mark. He came with me to visit once or twice, but was just too ambitious to stay. After we graduated, I relented and agreed to do my residency in Chicago so we could stay together. It's where I got my initial experience working in the ER. He kept assuring me that after we finished, we would find something that would be a happy medium for both of us. But I just hated it . . . was absolutely miserable. After a year, I simply couldn't stand any more, so I applied for a residency in family practice at Maine Medical Center in Portland and got it. Mark was furious. I've never lived through such a fight, before or since. But I stuck to my guns and left. It hurt a lot, but it was still better than being stuck in a place I hated so much. We both swore that when we were finished with residency we would find a place where we could both be happy and get married. But you know the way that kind of thing goes . . . being separated like that, we began to drift apart. By the time we finished, it was over between us and we'd pretty much gone our separate ways. I moved back to Rockport and set up my private practice. He stayed in Chicago, joined a high profile physician group, and became very successful." She shrugged. "Life goes on."
"Benton says you've asked him to join you here in Rockport."
"Not join me," Barbara protested, "just to come here to practice."
"Why?"
"We can use a surgeon of his caliber here."
"Are you sure that's the only reason?" When Barbara didn't answer, Estella sighed softly. "That's what I thought." The two women concentrated on their lunch, not speaking for several minutes. Finally, Estella asked quietly, "What about Benton?"
Barbara set her fork down and stared at her plate. "You know how I feel about Benton," she replied softly. "But, I'm never going to be anything more than a friend to him." When she looked up, Estella saw tears pooling in her eyes. "I want what you and Race have, Estella. That sense of oneness . . . of rapport with one special person . . . that goes beyond just being friends. And I'm not ashamed to admit it . . . I want the physical aspect, too . . . to feel his hands and mouth on me and to experience that fire." She glanced down at the contented toddler, who sat playing with her stuffed duck. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
The naked look of longing as Barbara gazed at the child made Estella ache for her friend, and she sighed softly. "Yes, I understand. I don't blame you. I remember what it was like being alone."
"Once, I thought I had the chance to have that with Benton. But it's been almost five years. Five years, Estella. He's had the chance to heal . . . to build his own self-confidence and find his own center. But our relationship has never advanced beyond friendship, and I don't think it ever will. He just doesn't see me that way."
"I think maybe you aren't giving him enough credit, Barbara. Just give him a little more time."
"How much time? Isn't five years enough? How much longer do I wait? Honestly, I think it's time for me to admit that I'm beaten. I can't win over his memories of Rachel. I need to start looking for something more."
"And you think you can find it with Mark Renquist."
"I don't know, but I think maybe I need to try."
Benton was sitting on the sofa reading the latest supercomputing technical journal and Race was reviewing security protocols on the study computer when Estella and Cricket returned from their meeting with Barbara. Emily was sprawled on the floor in the middle of the room with her nose buried in a book, and young Christopher was sleeping contentedly on the sofa next to his namesake. Both men greeted Estella cheerfully, and Cricket dashed directly to her father as soon as she was set on her feet. But Estella was distracted and walked past them without even appearing to notice their existence. Her forehead was creased in a frown and she seemed totally engrossed in her own thoughts. Both men rose and went to the study doorway to stare after her in consternation as she disappeared up the stairs in the direction of the Bannon suite.
"Do you get the feeling brunch with Barbara didn't go very well?" Benton ventured.
"Yeah, I do," Race said with a frown. "I wonder what they talked about."
"So do I."
By dinnertime, Estella was still preoccupied and Race decided to see if he could find out why. So, over dessert, he brought up the subject.
"So how was the get together with Barbara today?" he asked offhandedly. When she didn't answer him, he said a bit more sharply, "Estella!"
She jumped slightly. "Hmmm? What?"
"I asked you how brunch with Barbara was today."
"Oh . . ." she replied and suddenly her face flushed a bright red. "Oh, it was fine," she replied hastily.
"So what did you talk about?"
"Oh . . . stuff."
"What kind of stuff?" Race pursued relentlessly, certain now that it was something at that meeting that had upset her.
Estella looked at her husband with a touch of irritation. "I don't know . . . just stuff. The weather, the kids, what we've been doing recently, local gossip . . . that sort of thing."
"What about that ass, Renquist? Did she mention him?" Benton asked with sudden interest.
"Yes, she mentioned him."
"Well, what did she say?" Benton demanded impatiently.
Looking from one of them to the other in sudden exasperation, she snapped, "I believe the term she used was 'junkyard dogs' . . . and I'm starting to understand exactly what she meant!" Standing, she threw her napkin onto the table and said coldly, "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll check on the children . . ." Then she turned and stalked out.
Benton and Race stared after her in silence for a long moment. Finally, they looked at each other, and Race commented, "No, I don't think it went very well at all."
It was much later, after the children had been put to bed and the house was quiet, that Race decided to try again. As they prepared for bed, he asked quietly, "So are you going to tell me what has you so upset?" He came up behind her as she sat at the vanity and gazed at her in the mirror.
Estella returned his frank gaze for a long moment. Then her shoulders slumped and she sighed. "She's wrong, Race. I'm just certain she is. And she's just setting herself up to be seriously hurt."
Catching her by the shoulders, he raised her to her feet and drew her to the bed. Sitting down, he said quietly, "Tell me about it."
She turned to face him as she shook her head. "Do you have any idea . . . any idea at all . . . how much Barbara loves Benton? Or how long she's been in love with him?"
His eyes widened. "I've always gotten the feeling that she might be interested if he showed any signs . . ."
"Interested?" Estella said with a bark of laughter. "Oh God, you really don't know. Jessie told me almost five years ago . . . right after we were married . . . that she was pretty sure there was more there than Barbara was willing to say, and she was soooo right. Barbara admitted it to me during that business when Jonny and Jessie moved out."
"She should have told him!" Race protested.
"That's what I told her at the time, but she refused." Estella looked at Race sadly. "She was right, you know. He needed space . . . time to learn who he was without the knowledge of how she felt. What he really needed was a friend and a doctor, and that's what she gave him. I can't even begin to imagine what it must have cost her to stand back and play that role. And then there was that business when he got so sick. That just about killed her. But once he was on his feet, she backed away again and gave him the space he needed."
"So why doesn't she tell him now?"
"Because she's scared. If she can't have him as a lover, she also can't bear the thought of losing him as a friend, and she's terrified that's what will happen if she admits the way she feels and it's not reciprocal. But I'll tell you something else. For all that she's very busy and surrounded by people who care about her, she's lonely. She wants that one special person in her life . . . that sense of being important to someone else."
"She's important to a lot of people around here."
"That's not what I meant."
"Yes, I know," he agreed with a sigh. "And I understand how she feels."
"So do I . . . all too well. And it doesn't help that I think she would have loved to have had kids. Haven't you ever noticed her with ours?"
"Yeah, I have." He looked at her sharply, suddenly putting some random facts together and not liking the result. "Just exactly who is this Renquist person anyway?"
Estella was slow to respond. "Someone she knew from medical school."
"And?" he pushed, sensing there was something else.
"And her former fiancé," she admitted in defeat.
"Oh, hell. I suppose he's trying to rekindle the old romance."
"Yes, I think he is."
"And she's interested."
"She's lonely," Estella corrected. "And he's the first man in a long time that's paid any serious attention to her."
"You know, I don't understand that. She's a lovely woman, warm and giving. I'd expect every available male within a hundred mile radius to be after her."
"I understand it. As far as everyone around here is concerned, she's taken. They all think that she and Benton are a couple and no one is prepared to encroach on his territory."
Race snorted derisively. "Great. And the only one who doesn't know it is Benton."
"That's about the size of it. She's tired and disheartened, Race . . . both of playing the buddy role and of being alone. Mark Renquist is seriously courting her, and I don't think that she's going to discourage him."
"It will be a real blow to this community if he marries her and takes her away from here."
Estella looked at him soberly. "Oh, it's worse than that. What if she manages to convince him to stay? What do you suppose it will do to Benton when he discovers how much he really does care about her . . . after it's too late?"