Second Time Around
A story of family tensions in a small-town rocked by the antics of a cougar.A heart-warming tale of love in the face of family and friendship, perfect for fans of Cathy Kelly and Maeve Binchy.Divorcee Jennifer Irwin has it all – a successful interior design business and two loving children. But as her 45th birthday approaches and her children prepare to start their own lives, Jennifer is left feeling lonely in her empty nest.That’s when she meets Ben Crawford – a man 16 years her junior – as their attraction heightens, Jennifer realises what she’s been missing. But mindful that the small-town Ballyfergus residents would never approve, they conduct their affair in secret.But a secret is never a secret for long…As the affair surfaces, Jennifer encounters opposition from friends and family, especially her daughter Lucy. Enraged by her mother’s relationship, Lucy seeks comfort in the arms of charismatic but troubled, Oren. Jennifer knows that Oren is not the man he seems, but can she convince her daughter of that?And with everything going against them, can Jennifer and Ben’s love survive? Or will she risk losing her daughter to be with the man she loves?
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ERIN KAYE
Second Time Around
To Janet Marie, my elder sister
Chapter 1
Jennifer walked through the door of The Lemon Tree on busy Donegall Square in Belfast city and noticed him straight away. Conversation competed with piped pop music, somewhere a phone rang, and fleet-footed staff clattered noisily up and down the open metal staircase. Yet, there he stood, behind the brightly-lit bar, dark head bent, arms folded across his chest, listening intently to a black-shirted waiter. Athletic shoulders strained against the yoke of his pink shirt and the rolled-up sleeves revealed pale-skinned forearms, thick with dark hair. His lower half, clad in jet black jeans, was slim, almost thin. And he had to be ten years younger than her. Jennifer, trailing behind her friends, and surprised by the sudden yearning he stirred in her, blushed and looked away.
A waitress wearing slim-fitting trousers showed them to their table, a wooden tray clasped against her chest like a breast-plate. Jennifer slid onto a bentwood chair and the waitress, businesslike, thrust a menu into her hand. She opened it and tried to concentrate on the words swimming before her eyes. What was she doing, eyeing up a guy so much younger than her, a man who wouldn’t give her a second look? And even if he did, she’d run a mile. She’d forgotten how to flirt. And the rest of it. It had been three years since she’d been with a man.
‘I know it’s Friday lunchtime but I think you need a birthday cocktail!’ suggested Donna, a full-figured bottle blonde.
Jennifer smiled her assent, determined both to enjoy the company of her best friend – and to give her the courtesy of her full attention. They did this – went out somewhere nice for lunch – twice a year, on each of their birthdays. And, because they lived in Ballyfergus, a town some twenty-five miles away, it felt like a very special treat.
‘The food’s supposed to be fantastic,’ said Donna who, despite being over forty, retained an enviably youthful complexion. ‘Donegal oysters are just coming back into season now September’s started, aren’t they?’ She went on without waiting for an answer, ‘I wonder if they’re on the menu yet …’
The drinks came, they ordered food and Jennifer took a sip of the cranberry-coloured cocktail. She smiled as Donna related a funny story about one of the receptionists at the clinic where she worked who came in so hungover she threw up in a plant pot. But, in spite of her best efforts, she could not ignore the man behind the bar. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on Donna but she was aware of his every move and gesture, her attention drawn to him against her will. For the first time in her life she wished she was younger, that she could start all over again. That she could make a man like that desire her.
‘Are you okay, Jennifer?’ said Donna. ‘You seem a little distracted.’
Jennifer’s face reddened. ‘Sorry.’ She ducked her head of dark, straight hair and blurted out, without thinking, ‘It’s just that I feel old this birthday. For the first time ever.’ She looked around the restaurant, suddenly aware that the two of them looked out of place, dressed up in heels and smart clothes while the tables all around them were taken by younger people in casual, summery chic. Even their choice of sophisticated drinks marked them out as from a different generation. She looked down at her slim black pencil skirt, tight across the hips, and her black satin-trimmed jersey shirt, and felt foolishly, inappropriately, over-dressed.
‘You’re only as old as the man you feel,’ said Donna suggestively and, when this elicited a feeble smile from Jennifer added, more soberly, ‘Your fortieth birthday’s supposed to be the depressing one, you know, not your forty-fourth. By our mid-forties we’re meant to have it all sorted, aren’t we?’ She waved an arm in the air, the collection of bangles on her wrist rattling like chains. ‘We’re meant to have a family, a fabulous career, great self-image, oodles of confidence, a raging libido – oh, and a hunky man on our arm to satisfy it.’ Donna chortled and paused for dramatic effect. She wasn’t the female lead in the town panto every year for no reason. ‘And I’d say you have it all, apart from the hunky man.’
‘It’s not easy meeting someone at our age.’ Jennifer touched the back of her neck, momentarily shocked by the short, sharp line of hair at the nape. She was still unaccustomed to the new haircut, a sleek graduated bob that she’d only had done that morning. In a moment of madness quite unlike her she’d given the hairdresser free rein to restyle her tired, mid-length hair. It had been a good move. The style was modern and edgy, yet still long enough at the front to feel feminine. While she was pleased with it, the new hairstyle had failed to lift her mood. ‘I sometimes think I never will.’
