James Sheehan - The Law of Second Chances

“We’re going to New York on Thursday night and San Francisco on Saturday morning.”

“For what?”

“I’ll brief you on the way.”

“You’re sure you need me?”

“I’m sure.”

“You know I hate to fly. I’ve already been to New York once.”

“I know. I was with you.”

“You’re sure? All the way to San Francisco?”

“Especially San Francisco.”

The restaurant at the Bass Creek Hotel was like a slice of Old Florida. The oak paneling looked and felt like it had been there since the days of Andy Jackson. The ornate bar was made of oak as well, as were the tables and the floor. The chairs were leather. The long-stemmed fans hanging from the twenty-foot-high ceiling added to the atmosphere. It had once been a place where the upper crust convened, and it held a little of that feeling still.

“I love this place,” Molly told Jack when they were seated.

“It’s been here a long time,” Jack said. “Years ago, this was the place for a steak and a good cigar.”

“A man’s place,” Molly replied. “All you need to do is look around to see that.”

The waitress took their drink order. Jack had Wild Turkey neat. He never drank bourbon except when he was in the bar or the dining room at the Bass Creek Hotel. It was a bourbon type of place. Molly had white wine.

“So, how was the beach?” Jack asked.

“Oh Jack, it was terrific. It was a beautiful day. I spent the whole afternoon bodysurfing and I’m going back tomorrow.”

“I guess your love affair with Bass Creek is definitely over now.”

“Not at all. I’ll be here until next Wednesday. Jack, why don’t you come over tomorrow afternoon and swim with me?”

“I’d love to, but I have to go to New York the day after tomorrow, and I have some work to do before I leave.”

“That’s the second time you’ve given me the ‘I’d love to but’ routine, and we’ve only known each other for two days. I’m starting to get a complex.”

“I guess I could drive over for a few hours, swim, and have dinner and be back here at a decent hour. We don’t fly out until Thursday evening.”

“Great! How long are you in New York? I’ll be back there next week.”

“I have a hearing on Friday, then I’m headed for San Francisco.”

“I must be slipping. I should have found this information out already. Are you a lawyer, Jack?”

“Yeah, I’m representing a guy named Benny Avrile in New York. It’s kind of a high-profile case. You may have heard of it.”

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell. I don’t usually read about that stuff. If a movie star or somebody in the fashion industry was on trial, I’d know all about it.”

Jack laughed.

“It’s hard to believe-a handsome man like you and a lawyer to boot. How is it that you’re unattached?”

They had come to the tough part. Jack knew that this question would come up eventually.

“I lost my wife to cancer a year ago.”

“Oh Jack, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

“Of course you should have. It’s a natural part of getting to know somebody. It’s okay, though, and I’m okay. It’s time for me to get on with my life. So, what’s your story? A beautiful woman like you vacationing in a small town on her own-that’s a bit unusual.”

Molly blushed. “Yeah, I guess. I was engaged for about a year to a wonderful man-at least, in many ways he was wonderful. He was just too intense-a workaholic. I have a stressful job, and to come home every night to a man who couldn’t relax-it was too much. I had to break it off.”

They both sat in silence for a while, thinking about their lost lives.

“I think we need another drink,” Jack finally declared as he signaled the waitress.

They relaxed and kept it light after that. Jack had a strip steak and Molly a filet. Afterward they took a walk along the river. It was a clear night once again, and a light breeze was coming off the river. Molly slipped her hand inside Jack’s as they walked. His first inclination was to pull away, but he didn’t, and after a few minutes he actually began to feel comfortable.

Jack finished up his preparations for Benny’s hearing on Wednesday morning and convinced himself that a dip in the ocean would be refreshing. He called Molly’s hotel on the way and left her a message that he would be there at two.

The hotel was midsized-five stories high. The lobby was elaborate and expensive-looking, but nothing really fit together. The floor and the walls were marble, while the furnishings and the art had that casual Key West feel. Molly was waiting in the lobby, a big smile on her face. She kissed him lightly on the mouth, took his hand, and led him to the elevators. She pushed the button for the top floor.

The room-it was actually a suite-was spectacular. The floors were marble throughout, even in the kitchen. The sliding glass doors off the living room area opened onto a patio that had a magnificent view of the ocean. As Molly and Jack walked to the patio they were serenaded by the sound of the waves pounding the shore.

“This is quite a place,” Jack remarked.

“It’s an upgrade. One of the few benefits of working in sales. I love watching the waves roll in. It’s so relaxing.”

Molly showed Jack where the bathroom was, and he changed into his bathing trunks.

The ocean was everything Molly had advertised it to be. The waves were high but not too dangerous for bodysurfing, something Jack had not done in a long time. He quickly regained the form he had first acquired as a teenager on Rockaway Beach and was soon riding the waves like an expert. Molly was even better. Jack watched as she dove toward the shore ahead of a wave, her long, well-toned arms smoothly and swiftly carrying her along until she caught the wave at its crest and let the ocean propel her forward. She had a perfect body for surfing-and everything else in the universe.

“Let’s see who goes the farthest,” she challenged him, her smile as bright as her little red bikini.

“You’re on.”

They started a contest, riding wave after wave. Molly was lighter and beat him every time. She would roll over on her back at the shoreline, watch him still coming in, and laugh in triumph. More than a few times Jack had the urge to sweep her up in his arms.

Afterward they stopped at the tiki bar on the beach.

“Give us a couple of those drinks with the umbrellas in them,” she told the bartender.

“To the victor!” Jack toasted her when the pina coladas arrived.

“To the runner-up!” Molly replied, raising her glass.

They stayed at the tiki bar for a couple of hours, talking and laughing about nothing in particular. It had been quite a while since Jack had felt so carefree and alive. They were both a little tipsy when they finally headed for the room to shower and get ready for dinner.

Jack sat on one of the high chairs out on the patio looking over the ocean while Molly took the first turn in the shower. It was already dark outside, and the moon lit up the beach.

“Jack,” Molly suddenly called to him from the living room.

Jack turned to the sound of her voice. Molly was standing in the middle of the living room, her figure silhouetted by the light from the kitchen behind her. She had shed the little red bikini.

“I think we ought to skip dinner,” she said as she walked toward him.

Jack swallowed hard. She was standing next to him now, and he put his arms around her although he had no idea what he was going to do next. “You know, I noticed today that you ride the waves very well. Were you a surfer in your younger years?” he asked, his voice stuttering.

Molly sat in his lap, her naked skin rubbing up against him. “What an interesting question to ask at a moment like this,” she said as she kissed him lightly on the lips.