Is he trying to seduce her, or is it something else entirely?
Angela checked into the bed and breakfast she stayed at the several times a year she came to the beach. She liked the place it because it was away from the ocean in a small historic town that actually was nestled on a cove away from the beach proper and all the associated traffic. Something about the salt air and a leisurely weekend reinvigorated her for facing her depressing situation at home.
She carried her small travel bag upstairs to Room 4, her favorite room. With her travel bag on the bed she peered through the sheer curtains where she could just see the placid bay where boats quietly bobbed next to the dock or at their moorings.
With her clothes neatly situated in drawers she drew out the bottle of wine she brought with her, opened it and poured some of the rich red liquid into a glass. Then, with book and glass in hand, she descended the side stairs to the sitting porch. She always looked forward to relaxing with some wine and a good book after a four hour drive.
One of the two rockers on the porch was occupied by a handsome youngish man writing in a notebook, so Angela settled into the other one and placed her glass on the table between the rockers, noting that another glass of red wine already sat on the table. She glanced over at the 'young man' and smiled to herself that when you're sixty-two most everyone seems young.
The young man was amiable and the two soon struck up a conversation.
"I'm Mike. Mike Shepherd."
"Angela Simmons."
"Do you come here often?"
"Several times a year. Usually with a friend, but sometimes alone. My friend caught a cold and didn't feel like travelling today. We were planning to do the Tour of Homes that they hold every fall. We've been coming for six years or so, although we've been coming here either in the spring or fall for some years before they started the Tour of Homes thing. It's nice to be at the beach after all the tourists have gone. We've done the tour so many times some of the owners know us by name and give us a peek at things the general ticketholder doesn't see. You?"
"I come a couple of times a year, but this is the first time in the fall. I think I rather like it."
"Have you ever stayed here before?"
"I usually stay somewhere right on the beach. What about you?"
"Always here. Room 4. It has a nice view of the bay."
"This is my first time in town. While I find the ocean to be relaxing, I kind of like it here. I'll consider coming here into town more often. I think it will suit my purposes."
"Which are?"
He laughed. "Inspiration. I people watch and study things like the sky and water for creative ideas."
"Artist? There are quite a few here. I know some of them."
He shook his head. "Words. I write."
"For a living? What do you write?"
"Books. But tell me something about yourself." He laughed "You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."
She took a sip from her glass and considered. She didn't usually share personal information, but something about Mike put her at ease. For some unknown reason in her gut she felt he would understand.
He noted her hesitation. "Hey, I don't mean to pry."
"It's okay. It's not like it's a big secret. I come here partly to get away from my asshole husband."
"Whoa. Strong words. How long have you been married?"
"Technically or practically?"
"There's a difference?"
"Technically I've been married thirty nine years. Practically speaking we haven't really been married for the last fifteen of those years."
"There's a story in that, I'm sure,"
"He's always been self-centered, but I decided early on I could live with that. But sometime around our twentieth anniversary he started acting strange, hiding things, secret phone calls and things like that. What blew the lid off of it was a letter from the bank saying they couldn't extend any more credit against the house. That blew me away. I thought the house was nearly paid off. I confronted him and he got really angry, accusing me of prying into his affairs. I let him know that the house was my affair, too. He stormed out. That's when I became suspicious of what he had been doing. He always did the taxes and kept the budget, which was fine with me up until then. I taught high school Social Studies and kept the money I made separate from the family account, which turned out to be a good thing. I used my personal account for travel and clothes and things like that, and socked away a tidy sum for retirement. But I started looking at bank statements he left lying around and was aghast at how much debt he had run up."
She took another sip of wine. "I questioned him and eventually determined he was a heavy gambler. He bet on golf with his golf buddies. He bet on college sports. He bet on pro sports. He played cards. He lost a lot of money. But that wasn't the real kicker. He had a cell phone from work that he always kept with him. If he got a call when we were together he slunk off to take the call privately. If it was a legitimate business call he wouldn't have been so secretive."
"Makes sense. Seems like a red flag."
"One day when he was putting his golf clubs away a slip of paper fell out on the garage floor. He didn't see it, so I picked it up. There was a woman's name and phone number written in a cutesy feminine hand. The next day when he was at work I dialed the number to see if it was just a business contact. Do you know what I got? A strip club. I asked for Krystal, and was told that she had the day off but would be performing the next day. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I started looking for other signs and when I did laundry I found other notes from other women in his pants pockets. Some even had what looked like dates and times on them. That was it. I hired a detective to find out what he was up to."
"I can imagine. You don't need to go any further."
Angela shook her head. "Now that I'm started I need to vent or it will churn inside me and ruin my weekend. It turns out he was meeting these women at hotels. He'd book a room and meet the woman sometime during the afternoon. After twenty or thirty minutes they came out separately and left. I definitely knew of three of these meetings, but from the notes I suspected there were a lot more. I met with a lawyer and had divorce papers drawn up, but didn't file them right away. Then I confronted him. Actually one day he came home from work and found all his stuff in suitcases and bags in the garage, and I told him to get out. I told him I had names, dates and places."
"Good for you."
"He wasn't used to me being assertive, and made like he was going to hit me. I stood up to him and dared him to do it, and he left. The next day he came crawling back, begging. He actually got on his knees and begged me to take him back. What got me was that there was so much debt on the house I couldn't possibly pay it off. He had the big salary. I told him he could move back in, but we'd stay in separate bedrooms. God knows what kind of disease I could catch. I told him that he had to pay off the loans he had taken out. All of them. Every penny. And I told him that I would handle the finances from then on."
Angela sipped wine again and settled back in the rocker. "So, technically we're married, but practically we're not. He has finally paid off everything he owed. I haven't seen any hint of the womanizing behavior for years. We even did begin to sleep in the same bed again. I figured why should I have to wash two sets of sheets all the time? We sleep on opposite sides of the bed and haven't had anything like a marital relationship since this all happened. I mostly travel alone or with a friend, but he will occasionally take me out to dinner - I'm a business asset. But I have no trust in him."
Mike rubbed his chin. "I'm trying to reconcile what I see with what you've told me. If all this happened like you say, you must me...upper fifties? Yet, I see a woman younger than that."
"I'm not afraid to tell my age I'm sixty-two."
"You're kidding. You really don't look it. To tell the truth, I watched you unload your car and thought you were a very attractive woman."
"Yeah, right."
"I'll bet your husband hasn't told you that in quite some time."
"I can't even remember the last time he complimented me."
"Well, here's what I see before me. Remember I'm a writer, so I notice things. You have lovely light brown hair, and the blond highlights you have in it catch the sunlight and is perfect for your complexion. Your eyes are dazzling emerald green and set in a very attractive face. Your smile could light up a room. Your figure belies your age, and you have very shapely legs. I'll get in trouble for this, but you also have a very shapely ass. Please don't be offended by that, it's meant as a high compliment. Any real man would be proud to be seen walking down the street holding your hand."
Her mouth fell open and she was speechless.
He squinted as he looked out over the garden. "The sun is setting and is getting in my eyes. How about we move over to that bench in the corner of the garden? It faces away from the sun."
They picked up their glasses and her book and moved to the bench. Mike carried along the small table so they could set their glasses on it. She also laid her book on the table and he smiled. "'Wind on the Plains' by G.M. Stroud. Do you like it?"
"I do. I think it's better than 'Sarah's Heart'."
"Do you? In what way?"
She looked askance at him. "What do you know about romances?"
He laughed. "I wrote them."
To her disbelieving stare he stuck out his hand. "G. M. Stroud at your service."
"But...but the author is a woman."
He laughed. "That's why I use my initials. George Michael Shepherd, but I go by Mike. I write under the pseudonym of G. M. Stroud. Tell me, why do you like the latest one better?"
"I like the way Susan is a stronger than usual character and stands up for herself. But wait. How old are you anyway? You can't be more than early to mid-thirties. How can you know so much about life to be able to write about it so well?"
"I'm thirty five, but I've had my share of life experiences, too."
Angela mused "Our daughter Anna is thirty two."
