Chapter 13

Thursday, November 7

Three Weeks Until Thanksgiving

Mike opened the four boxes that had just been delivered. He had to admit Ashley had done a wonderful job. There were glossy, colorful flyers for the Thanksgiving brunch, posters and flyers for the club and the art classes, and posters about the music recitals. Between them, Jim, Elliott, and Anthony had drawn up the list of events, and the schedule was impressive.

Now all we have to do is work a little magic to make it all come together.

Ashley smiled as she came into the lobby. “Oh good, they’ve arrived. Guess what you’re doing this afternoon.”

He laughed. “So today I’m the mailman?”

“No, you’re a mailman,” Sam corrected, emerging from the office behind the front desk. “I’m coming with you. Two pairs of legs are better than one. Besides, you don’t know P-town well enough yet.”

“Then maybe you’d better show me. It’s about time someone gave me the five-cent tour.”

“I can do that, but I think we should start ASAP.” Sam grinned. “No mailbox left empty is our motto today.” He peered at Ashley’s hands. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

She held up a framed photo. “I was taking what was left of Nick’s clothing and stuff from the chest of drawers in Mike’s room, and I found this.” She set it on the front desk. “I think that’s the perfect spot for it, don’t you?”

Mike went over to take a look. It was a photo of Nick in military uniform. “I didn’t see this in any of the drawers.”

“Neither did I, but it was there this morning. We must’ve both missed it.” She smiled. “He was a good-looking man.” Then she headed up the stairs.

Sam gazed at the photo, his eyes warm. “That he was.” He straightened. “So, we gonna get rid of all these flyers in one afternoon?”

“Won’t some of the others want to lend a hand?” Not that Mike disliked the idea of the two of them going around the town together. Working with Sam to assess the hotel’s present state had been a pleasant experience. Sam was practical, down-to-earth, with a warm smile and a great sense of humor.

You forgot one thing. He’s hot too.

As if he could forget that. The first night Mike spent alone in his bedroom, he’d half-hoped Sam would turn up with more hot chocolate. And when he didn’t, Mike wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

You could always make the first move, y’know.

Mike didn’t have enough confidence to step that far out of his comfort zone, even though that small voice at the back of his mind was forever telling him that as many times as he’d found himself staring at Sam before averting his gaze, Sam was doing his fair share of staring too.

Sam counted off on his fingers. “Elliott’s modeling for the life drawing class, and—”

He blinked. “He’s what? Whose idea was this?”

Sam smirked. “He hasn’t said, but I’d bet money on it being his.” He let out an evil chuckle. “Stephan’s going to be there, isn’t he? And Elliott did say he’d modeled before, so I guess he feels comfortable having people stare at him when he’s naked.” He flushed. “Kudos to him. I don’t think I could do it.”

“Why not? You’ve got the body for it.” Mike blinked, then coughed. “I mean, you’re—”

Sam held up his hand. “Stop right there. Don’t spoil the compliment.” He smiled. “You’re good for my ego.” He looked Mike up and down. “And if we’re talking bodies, you’d be a great choice for a model.” That flush was back. “How about we close this meeting of the mutual appreciation society?”

Mike chuckled. “Fine by me. So… Elliott is being painted in all his glory by the residents of P-town… What about Anthony and Jim?”

“Ant has gone to see Phil, the pianist, to discuss what he hopes to play. He’s also going to offer his services—”

Mike coughed. “What kind of services are we talking about?”

Sam laughed. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Turning the pages of his music. Ant’s the perfect choice. He’s the only one of us who can read music. Well, Elliott could, but he says he’s forgotten. I think it’s more a case that he wants to leave the field free for Ant, and he has other more important fish to fry. And Jim went to talk to Kris Warren.”

It took Mike a moment to remember who Kris was. Then it came to him. “He’s the one who’ll be running the BDSM workshops.”

Sam nodded. “Kris has written books on BDSM, he’s lectured on it, and he’s been known to give demonstrations too.” His eyes twinkled. “In fact, I recall Jim volunteering to be hogtied once. I think he fell asleep. He’s also the perfect guy to negotiate this for us. I got the feeling his ex was a lot like Kris.” He smirked. “Well, they were into similar things.” He glanced at the boxes. “I’ll put all the flyers and posters into my backpack, and then we’ll go hit the town.” Another grin. “We’re gonna drown P-town in paper.”

“And I get my first real look at the place.”

Mike couldn’t wait to see the town he wanted to call home.

Elliott squirmed into his jeans behind the screen Anthony had found in the shed. It had been part of the scenery for a show at one time. He pulled his tee over his head, listening to the appreciative comments from the handful of people who’d shown up to take part in the first art class.

I guess six is a good start. And everyone had a good view.

What had amazed Elliott was the fact he’d stayed limp for most of it. That wasn’t new—he’d been a life model before, and nothing had risen to the occasion—but having Stephan around complicated matters.

Stephan had been amazing. He’d given a lot of advice, uttered encouraging remarks, and applauded his new students’ efforts.

He’d also been great when it came to making sure his model was comfortable.

Elliott had lain on a chaise lounge borrowed from a room at the hotel, a couple of space heaters on either side of him. He’d posed with one leg bent, the other hanging over the edge, his foot on the floor. Stephan had announced breaks every thirty minutes, where Elliott had shaken his arms and legs before slipping back into his pose.

He’d been dying to take a peek at how they’d portrayed him, but not as much as he’d yearned to watch Stephan.

Except he couldn’t. Models were supposed to keep still. Dammit.

If you only knew what you do to me.

Stephan was older than Elliott, maybe ten years or so, but that wasn’t an issue for Elliott. He’d always had a thing for older guys anyway. He liked Stephan’s dirty blond hair, his blue eyes that seemed to catch the light every goddamn time Elliott looked into them, his smooth jaw and cute nose, the graceful neck…

He also liked the way Stephan focused on him during a conversation. Not that he had many of those to remember: the interest had been a one-way street.

He didn’t even know I was alive.

Jim had nailed it. From the first time Stephan had run past him on the street, Elliott was hooked. Once he had an idea of Stephan’s exercise regime, he’d engineered it so he’d be in the vicinity, watching Stephan move, graceful and swift, poetry in motion.

Jim had nailed something else. That bulge was pretty impressive too.

Once they’d all started coming up with suggestions for how to raise money, Elliott had been determined to do his bit. The excuse of asking Stephan about the classes had been too great to ignore. And taking his clothes off was a small price to pay.

When Elliott emerged from behind the screen, the theater space was empty, and Stephan was folding up the easels he’d brought along with him. He smiled.

“You were fantastic. In fact, I’d like it if you could pose for the class next week.”

Elliott beamed. “Sure, I can do that.” Stephan stared at him so intently that Elliott felt self-conscious. “Did someone flick paint on my nose or something?”

“It’s just that… I have the strangest feeling I’ve seen you before someplace. I had the same feeling when you walked into my gallery to ask me if I’d consider teaching the classes.”

“Did you ever come here to one of the shows? Maybe in the last seven years?”

Stephan chuckled. “Sure, but I don’t remember meeting an Elliott.” His eyes sparkled. “I’m certain I’d remember you.”

Elliott bit his lip. “Do you remember seeing a drag queen called Cherry Popp?”

He laughed. “She was one of my favorites. I haven’t seen her perform in a long time, though. Actually, I haven’t been to a show in over a year.” Stephan’s cheeks reddened. “I used to wonder what she looked like under the makeup.”

“Well, now you know.” Elliott gestured to his body. “You got to see everything.”

Stephan’s eyes widened. “You?”

Elliott smiled. “In the flesh.”

Stephan bit his lip. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but—”

“Oh, I hate it when anyone uses that line.”

“No, it’s all good, I promise. I think you look awesome on that stage. But you look equally amazing without the makeup.” He reached across and traced the line of Elliott’s cheek with his finger. “Such glorious bone structure.”

It wasn’t exactly what Elliott had hoped for, but hey, he’d take it as a positive sign.

“I don’t suppose you’d consider… I mean, you don’t have to say yes, but—”

Elliott rolled his eyes. “Stephan, whatever you want to ask me, for God’s sake, just ask .”

Stephan swallowed. “Would you pose for me? I’d love to paint your portrait. As long as you’d be okay with me hanging it in the gallery when it’s done, and selling it.”

Elliott blinked. “You really think someone would pay to have me on their wall?”

His eyes sparkled. “Why not? I’d pay to have you…”

The lack of an ending for that sentence sent heat flooding through him. It was only then it occurred to Elliott to ask the all-important question.

“Er, Stephan? Are we talking nude?”

Stephan smiled. “Yes, we are. Got a problem with that?”

His heartbeat quickened. “Uh-uh. Would you want to paint me here?”

“I think my studio would be the most appropriate setting. It’s on the top floor above the gallery. There’s even a deck.” He cocked his head. “So? I’ve asked. What’s your answer?”

Elliott replied before he had the chance to change his mind.

“I’d love to. When do we start?”

Mike gazed at the grey cedar shakes-covered buildings standing in a U-shape. “Where are we?” In the center were two lines of picnic tables, and over them stood arches constructed of wooden slats. A sloping path led to a sandy beach where he spied a few couples sitting on blankets or strolling along the shore.

Sam pointed to the sign on the largest building.

“Cape Cod National Seashore. Herring Cove beach,” Mike read aloud. He chuckled. “Wow. You meant it about leaving the flyers everywhere.” That explained why Sam had gone back to the house to refill his backpack.

I thought we were done for the day.

Sam laughed. “We’re here because this is the last stop on the tour. And we’re just in time.” He indicated the horizon where the sun was already sinking. “This place is the best for watching the sunset. People come here at night too, and light fires on the beach.” He walked past the tables and headed for the sand.

Mike spotted a signpost and gasped. “You have great white sharks here?”

“Uh-huh. They’ve been known to feed on seal pups.” Sam glanced at him. “I think you’re safe. Just stay out of the water.”

“Absolutely I’m gonna stay out of it. I’d freeze my ass off.” Except the temperature had been mild all day, thankfully. He noticed the backpack slung over Sam’s shoulder. “Why do you need that if we’re not here to deliver flyers?” He grinned. “I don’t think the sharks would be interested in a Thanksgiving brunch.”

“And they’d have zero interest in art classes too,” Sam quipped. “No way could they hold a paintbrush, unless it was in their teeth. I brought the pack for a different reason.” They reached the beach, he put the pack down, opened it, and removed—

“You planned this.” Mike had to smile as Sam spread a blanket on the sand.

Sam arched his eyebrows. “You bet I did. Sand gets everywhere.” He reached into the backpack once more and removed a bottle of wine. He smiled. “I think we deserve this after all our efforts, don’t you?”

“Damn straight.” Mike joined him on the blanket. He peered into the pack. “No glasses?”

Sam guffawed. “Nope. We drink it from the bottle. Don’t worry, I don’t have cooties.”

“Good to know.” Mike gazed out at the sky with its changing color scheme. “This is beautiful.”

“I know, right?” The sun’s last rays lit up Sam’s face. He twisted the cap to open the wine.

Mike chuckled. “Ohh, the good stuff.”

He snorted. “It was on sale at Stop & Shop.” He offered it to Mike, who took a drink.

Mike raised his eyebrows. “Hey, not bad.” Mike handed it over, then leaned back on his hands. “So tell me… how did you end up in P-town? Because you don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, that Midwestern twang is hard to lose. But you don’t want to hear all that.”

Mike gazed at him. “Yes, I do,” he said quietly.

Sam regarded him in silence for a moment before giving a nod. “Okay. I grew up in a small, conservative town. Not going to tell you where, because I left there to forget the place.”

“Fair enough. I take it you had a hard time?”

Sam’s eyes caught the light. “Let’s just say I had a tough time reconciling my love for performance and expressing myself authentically in a world that didn’t always accept my gender fluidity, and leave it at that.”

“Elegantly put.”

Sam took a drink. “I moved to Boston first, but it was way too big. Then I found my way here. I left my old life behind and found a new family with Nick and the others. Not that it’s been smooth sailing, you understand. I’ve had my share of rejection, and I still have the scars, but I’m finally in a place where I feel loved for who I truly am.” He handed Mike the bottle. “Your turn.”

“There isn’t much to tell.” Mike peered at him. “You can tell me to get lost, but… you mentioned something about watching someone slide into oblivion, because of alcohol. Was that a family member?” His heartbeat quickened. “Or an ex?” Mike’s stomach clenched. He wasn’t sure why Sam’s past should matter to him, but apparently it did.

I hope no one hurt him.

Sam said nothing for a moment, but took a long drink from the bottle.

Finally, he sighed. “When I first came to P-town, I met Tony. Great guy, great sense of humor, fun to be with.” His face darkened. “Until things started going wrong. His business took a nosedive, and he drowned his sorrows and frustrations in a bottle. When it got to the point where I was taking three empty wine bottles a day to the recycling, I knew he had a problem.” He swallowed. “Unfortunately, I mentioned it.”

“What happened?” Mike knew whatever was coming wasn’t good. Sam’s face contorted, and he shifted on the blanket as though he couldn’t get comfortable.

“I tried to get him to seek help. That didn’t go down so well. Tony didn’t think he had a problem. It took one hell of a shock to make him realize how bad things had gotten.”

“What kind of shock?”

Sam winced. “The night he mistook me for a punching bag.”

“Oh God.” Mike couldn’t help himself. He took Sam’s hand in his.

“A friend drove me to the nearest hospital to get stitched up.” Sam smiled. “That was Nick, by the way. He sat with me while I waited to be seen, he wiped away my tears, held me—and told me there was a room for me at the Velvet House. He even offered to arrange for some friends to meet us back at Tony’s place to help me pack up.” Sam expelled a sigh. “He didn’t want me staying there a moment longer.” He gazed at their joined hands but made no effort to pull away.

“How did Tony react to your leaving him?”

Sam stared out at the ocean. “He didn’t say a word. I think he was too ashamed of what he’d done—and that everyone in P-town got to know about it. Not long after that, he sold up and left. I have no idea what became of him.”

“There is something I’d like us to discuss.” Sam gave him an inquiring glance, and Mike sighed. “It’s about Nick. His death, specifically. His lawyer made it sound as though the heart attack was unexpected. Who was with him? Was it really out of the blue?”

Sam stared at him. “I don’t believe this.”

His heart hammered. “Surely I can ask about my own uncle’s death.”

“That’s not what I meant. I…” Sam pulled his hand free of Mike’s, took another long drink, then expelled a breath. “I brought you here for three reasons. The first was because we damn well earned it after the day we’ve had. The second was to show you the best sunset ever. Which should be in about five minutes, by my reckoning.”

“And the third reason?”

“I was going to tell you about Nick.” Sam stared at the blanket. “Ant was partially right, you know. Polly leaving might have contributed to his death. I only found out at the end that he’d made his will after that.”

Mike stared at him. “You’re saying he knew something was wrong?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe he had an inkling. If he did, he didn’t share it with any of us. He saw the doc in August last year, and got the bad news. A triple bypass. So the day of the procedure, we went with him to the hospital. They wouldn’t let all of us into his room, so I stayed with him. That was when he told me about his will. He… he also gave me a letter he’d written the night before.” Sam looked Mike in the eyes. “It was addressed to you. He said I was to give it to you when you came to P-town.”

Mike’s pulse raced. “A letter? Why am I only hearing about it now?”

“Because I forgot about it, okay? He died over a year ago.” He gave Mike a hard stare. “And we’ve had a lot on our plates, remember? Such as trying to not be forced out of our home.”

“You’ve all had quite a year, haven’t you?”

“You can say that again. Anyhow, I shoved the letter in a drawer, and it was only last night that I remembered. So I decided to bring you here, to a place Nick loved.” Sam swallowed. “Nick died on the operating table. A massive heart attack. And I guess it was unexpected—for us.” He sighed. “We were all sitting in the waiting room, and then…”

Mike put his arm around Sam’s shoulders, and Sam leaned into him

“Thank you for being there for Nick,” Mike murmured.

“The letter’s in my room. I’ll give it to you when we get back.” Sam pulled back and glanced at Mike. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ask whatever you want.”

He smiled. “Can I kiss you?”

Mike’s heart leaped into a higher gear. “I’d like that.”

Sam cupped his cheek, closed the gap between them, and pressed his lips to Mike’s.

Mike cradled Sam’s nape, unwilling to let the kiss end, breathing in the scents, a mixture of Sam’s cologne and the sea air.

Sam chuckled. “Your beard tickles,” he murmured against Mike’s lips.

Mike closed his eyes. “You’re a good kisser.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he groaned. “Nope. Not answering it. I want to enjoy the sunset—and you.”

Sam stroked his jaw. “We’ll have other sunsets. Besides, this could be important.”

He had a point.

Mike removed his phone and peered at the screen. “It’s Harry Dexter. Maybe he’s calling about the paint.” Harry had said he’d give them an estimate on when the paint would be ready to be delivered. Mike clicked on Answer. “Hey, Harry.”

“You’re not going to believe this.”

“What’s wrong?” Because something had to be. It was all going way too smoothly.

“I just struck oil. Hit paydirt. Struck gold. Whatever.” He paused. “I’ve found you what you need for the bathroom renovations.”

Mike sat upright. “What?” Beside him, Sam gaped. “Where?”

“There’s a company in Maine that manufactures sinks, tubs, you name it. The sad news is, they’ve just gone out of business. The good news is, they’re prepared to sell off their stock. So it’s not free, but it will be the cheapest option. At this point, they’ll take whatever they can get for it. He said it’s not brand-spanking-new stuff, but that still makes it more up-to-date than what you’ve got at the hotel. I’ll text you the details. They won’t deliver, so you’ll need a rental to go pick it all up. The guy I spoke with said you can collect next week.” He chuckled. “Isn’t this wonderful?”

“It is. Thanks, Harry. I’ll come over soon for that coffee we mentioned. We can talk about Nick.”

“Look forward to it.” He hung up.

Mike shook his head. “Well, what about that?” He grinned. “Harry just delivered that miracle Elliott wanted.” Then he remembered what the call had interrupted, and his chest tightened. “I’m sorry. We were doing something important.”

Sam chuckled. “And we can do it again—another time. Right now we should get back to the house.”

On impulse, Mike grabbed Sam’s face and pulled him in for a lingering kiss. Sam sighed into the embrace.

“And that’s for my first P-town sunset,” Mike said with a smile.

He had a feeling it wouldn’t be his last.

And when we get home, I have a letter to read.