Breakwater Bay: A Novel Page 26

“That’s beside the point. You go think about things, things that have nothing to do with Laura’s diary. I’m going to work in the garden.”

  “Do you think you should?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “You stay here.” She grabbed a wide-brimmed hat off the peg by the mudroom door, picked her gardening gloves out of the basket, and went outside, letting the screen door slam behind her.

  After Gran left, Meri sat down again. For a long time she just listened to the sounds of her grandmother digging outside the door, and once the sound of the Volvo driving away. She tried to think about her life, but the diary kept encroaching. It seemed like that’s what had suddenly sent her comfort reeling out of control.

  But that wasn’t it. She was beginning to see that now. She still had a loving family—that hadn’t changed; she loved her work—that hadn’t changed. She was right where she wanted to be.

  She’d met Everett Simmons. It had been traumatic for a bit, but it hadn’t lasted. Peter was in L.A. for the summer. He’d be back in the fall and they would get engaged. That was the same. Alden was going away. And that wasn’t the same. That rocked her world and not in a good way.

  Maybe that’s what Gran meant. How did she see her future without Corrigan House?

  She wandered into the parlor, picking up things and remembering, photographs and childhood art projects; she touched Great-Grandmother Calder’s afghan. Stopped at the window that faced Corrigan House. She’d had good times there. At least until Jennifer came, but the kids had been special. They’d had good times even then.

  She pulled the lacy curtains aside and leaned against the frame trying to imagine anyone but Alden living in the house. Or a condo built in its place. Surely the zoning commission would never allow it.

  But it wasn’t the house she was afraid of losing. It was Alden. He was so much a part of their lives, her life. She kept expecting to hear the back door slam and his footsteps come across the kitchen. Or hear him in the garden talking to Gran. But time passed and as far as Meri could tell, he hadn’t returned home.

  Where was he?

  Late in the morning, Gran came in. They had lunch. Meri did laundry, and all the time she listened for the sound of the Volvo.

  Meri spent a restless afternoon, sneaking peeks out the window at every sound. Alden didn’t return.

  They went to bed early, though Meri didn’t sleep well. She thought about what Gran said. Remembered all the good things in her life, some of the uncomfortable ones. Things that seemed devastating at the time seemed insignificant now.

  Because she had always had people who loved her to see her through.

  Meri kept hearing the sound of a car engine, but when she got up to look out her bedroom window, there was nothing there.

  You’re being ridiculous, she told herself and closed her eyes to wait for morning to come. She must have fallen asleep around four o’clock because when she looked at the clock again it was almost noon, and her room was filled with the aroma of banana bread.

  Meri bolted out of bed. She could hear Gran moving around downstairs, so she hurried through a shower and dressing and went downstairs to be useful. She found Gran in the kitchen, all evidence of baking already cleaned and put away.

  “Good morning; sit down and I’ll make you some breakfast.”

  “A piece of that banana bread would be great if it’s not for the church bake sale or anything.”

  “You know I made it just for you. Pour us a cup of coffee and sit down.”

  Meri poured the coffee and joined Gran at the counter. “Did Alden come home?”

  “I haven’t seen him.” Gran opened the cake cover to reveal two loaves of freshly baked bread. “It’s still warm.”

  “Smells wonderful.”

  Gran cut them both thick slices of the bread and they sat down.

  The banana bread was delicious, moist and filled with bits of pecans, and for a few seconds Meri forgot the knot in her stomach that had been there since Alden had announced he was selling Corrigan House.

  “What are we going to do today?”

  “I’m going to polish the silver. You’re going to start getting ready to drive back to Newport. I don’t want you driving in the dark with a bad hand. Maybe you should go say good-bye to Alden before you do.”

  “Good-bye? He’s home?”

  “I don’t know. If he isn’t, leave him a note.”

  Had she just angered her grandmother? Gran didn’t usually lose her temper, especially not with Meri, but she certainly sounded terse this morning. Was it something she had done or said? She’d tried looking at her life, tried imagining the future, but it didn’t help the now. Everything was falling apart.

  “Go on. I’ll deal with these dishes.”

  Meri started across the field. It was hard enough to navigate the uneven ground without the two barn cats that had come to check her out and decided to join her, running ahead, hiding among the weeds then jumping out to pounce at her shoes. The ground began to blur, and she grew close to tears of frustration.

  The cats finally ran off after some unseen victim. The tears weren’t so easy to deal with. What was wrong with her? She was not a crier, not even at the movies; well, sometimes at the movies. She must be on overload, learning she was adopted, the diary, the new father, the injury to her hand, the job insecurity. And now Alden, just when she really did need him, was bailing on her.

  And there it was.

  The final straw of a long, emotional roller coaster of the last few weeks.

  It was more than the house. Even though there was a basketful of fond memories there, it was just a house. It wasn’t the structure that was responsible for those memories. It was the inhabitants.

  One inhabitant.

  Now the house already looked empty. Maybe it had for a while and she hadn’t noticed. But she hadn’t been getting back as much as she used to. She was just so busy, and she had a life in Newport. There was Peter, not to mention her other friends, and karaoke, and fund-raisers.

  And now that she was actually thinking about moving back to the farm, he . . . She stopped. Had she even told him? Had she told Gran? She couldn’t remember. Maybe she had told him, and he thought that now someone would be near to watch Gran he could leave.

  For a wild horrible moment, she thought about telling him she’d changed her mind. She couldn’t move back, he would have to stay.

  Of course, that might just be prolonging the inevitable. Peter would be back in the fall. Meri wasn’t naive; she knew things could change while they were apart. He might find someone he liked better. She might . . .

  Well, she had already pushed him to a secondary place in her mind, but in her defense, it had been a crazy event-filled and emotionally packed couple of weeks. Besides, she didn’t think he would ever want to stay in California.

  She tried to imagine herself, freelancing on old adobe ranches, a few ’30s movie star homes. But her mind kept reverting to Newport, her work there that she could visit and revisit, neglected Gilbert House, her friends, the Cliff Walk, the farm—her life was here.

  Of course she could visit. But it wouldn’t be the same. Besides there had been no talk of moving away. Except for Alden.

  When Meri reached Corrigan House, she went straight to the old garage, pulled open the door, and peered inside. The old truck was there, but no Volvo. Good God. He couldn’t have just picked up and left. He couldn’t walk away that fast.

  Unless he’d already packed. All he’d have to do was throw his suitcase and his portfolio and art supplies in the car and go. And it hit her so hard she had to brace her hand on the old splintered wood.

  The truth will set you free. How long had he been waiting to be free? And what truth had he learned that set him free now?

  Meri walked toward the house, each step slower than the one before. She knocked on the door and thought she saw a shadow move behind the kitchen window. But she knew it was hope playing a tric
k on her.

  She walked around the house and peered into the studio. Everything was in its place, neatly organized. That should have made her feel easier. But Alden’s studio was never neat, not when he was in the throes of work, and she knew he hadn’t finished his next book.

  He was going to finish it in Manhattan. She collapsed onto the steps that led to the lawn. Oh God. Someone had mowed the grass. It looked like a real lawn instead of a jungle of weeds flattened by the tramp of footsteps.

  Beyond the dunes and the beach roses, the ocean shone a brilliant blue. The house might be in need of some major TLC, but Meri had no doubt the property would sell on the view alone.

  The path between the farm and Corrigan House would grow over and that would be the end of it.

  Well, if it was going to happen, maybe it was better if he wasn’t home, better if she just left a see-you-later note and got herself back to Newport and her work.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Meri screeched and nearly fell off the step in her attempt to stand and turn around at the same time. “Why do you do that?”

  “Why are you sitting here?”

  She concentrated on calming her heart rate. “When did you get back?”

  “From where? I’ve been here all day.”

  “But you didn’t answer the door when I knocked.”

  “I was in the kitchen; by the time I opened the door, you were gone.”

  “Where’s the Volvo? It isn’t in the garage.”

  “I took it in to the dealership; they dropped me off at the mailboxes and I walked from there.”

  “I would have picked you up. What’s wrong with the Volvo?”

  “Nothing. I’m selling it.”

  “Selling it? Why?”

  “How many vehicles does a man need?”

  “It’s because you’re leaving, isn’t it?” she said desperately. “Have you thought this through?” She looked around. “How can you give up all this light? You know you can’t work in a stuffy, dark, little apartment in Manhattan.”

  He smiled. “With the sale of Corrigan House I won’t have to live in a stuffy, dark, little apartment.”

  Meri felt her arguments falling into pieces and drifting away. “Is that what you really want?”

  He thought for a minute. “It’s what I really need.”

  And what could she say to that? Fighting the strangling lump in her throat, she said, “I see. Well, good luck, we’ll miss you.”

  She considered hugging him good-bye, but she was afraid she might cling to him and beg him not to go. And that would be too humiliating. And unfair. And selfish. Besides, it would take time to prepare the house for the market, then weeks or months to find a buyer and close on the contract.

  There was still time.

  Gran’s question reverberated in her head. Why did that matter to her? She was leaving herself in a few minutes. Sure, she was only going a half hour away, but Manhattan was only a few hours’ train ride away. Would Alden have a reason to visit if he sold the house?

  Is that what really frightened her, not that Corrigan House would be owned by strangers, but that Alden would be lost to them. To her.

  And that was really, really selfish. And really stupid. People moved all the time; that didn’t mean they lost touch, wouldn’t visit. So she smiled and said, “See you next weekend?”

  He quirked a half smile. “Probably.”

  And she had to be content with that.

  It wasn’t the easiest walk back to the farm she’d ever made.

  When Meri drove back to Newport a few hours later, she tried not to slow down as she passed the turnoff to Corrigan House; she tried not to even look. She concentrated on getting back to town, to work.

  Her hand was better, and she had graduated to a few layers of gauze and tape. She had an appointment in the morning to remove the stitches. She would drown her anxiety in work. That’s probably why she was so adrift.

  Not because Alden was leaving, not even because he intended to sell his home, not even what Gran said about looking at her life. It was because she hadn’t been able to work. She always got that way when she wasn’t working. She began to breathe easier, and by the time she passed over the bridge, she felt almost back to normal.

  She still had way too many loose ends in her personal life. Another good reason to get back to work. When work was your passion, loose ends weren’t all that worrisome. With all her downtime, maybe she was just worrying too much.

  And doing stupid things, like going to see Everett Simmons. What had seemed like such a huge deal a few days ago had moved to the back of her mind, and now, when she thought about it at all, she mainly felt embarrassment at the scene she’d caused.

  She wouldn’t make that mistake again. She wouldn’t contact him, and she would avoid any contact with Riley’s parents. They weren’t her grandparents; they didn’t deserve to be.

  It was a relief to get back to her apartment. She ordered takeout, a habit she would have to curtail pretty soon, if she was going to keep working with Doug. She didn’t want to have to pick up piecemeal work; she liked being on-site for the whole project. She thought she might like to direct a project someday, though she wouldn’t want to spend her whole time fund-raising like Doug seemed to be doing these days.

  Of course that could all change if Peter decided to stay in L.A. The couple of times she’d talked to him had been brief. At first she’d blamed the three-hour time difference. She was going to bed when he was starting his evening.

  But he was so full of enthusiasm and excitement that it was easier to let him talk. And now that she thought about it, his enthusiasm might be a warning sign that he might like to stay.

  She picked up her phone and pressed his number.

  “Hey, babe.”

  Babe? He’d never called her babe in his life.

  “Hi. Are you busy?”

  “I’ve got a minute. You’re not going to believe who came into the office today.” He named some woman she’d never heard of.

  “Really?”

  “We’re representing her in a divorce suit. It’s wild. You wouldn’t believe these people. It’s better than television. I’m leaving in a few minutes. My uncle is heading the team, and I’m going to assist him. The husband is a real piece of work, multi-multimillionaire. It’s so exciting. I can’t discuss the case, but . . .”

  He began to discuss what sounded like a case to Meri. She found herself listening for the delivery boy. “We’re meeting the whole team for dinner and brainstorming session at . . .”

  A restaurant she had never heard of.

  “. . . in a few minutes. I’m so psyched. Wish you were here. You’d love it.”

  “It does sound exciting,” Meri said, ignoring the unease that had zinged up her back and settled in her stomach. It didn’t sound exciting at all. It sounded like a huge waste of time and money because two people couldn’t work out their problems.

  “I wish we could talk but I’ve gotta run. Don’t want to be late.”

  “I have to go, too. Have a . . . good meeting.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Bye.”

  “See you.” He hung up.

  Meri hung up and it occurred to her that for the first time in their relationship they had ended the call without saying those three little, sometimes two little, words, Love you.

  First thing Monday morning, Alden drove the truck over to Therese’s on his way to Providence to catch the train.

  She must have heard him because she was standing in the doorway when he got out of the truck.

  “Have time for coffee?” she asked. But she didn’t move aside to let him in.

  “No, I have to catch a train. I just wanted to let you know I’m going into the city for a few days. I talked to Ray Godfrey over at the real estate office. He’s going to handle the sale. First he’ll be sending some people over to get estimates on some cosmetic work and some landscaping. So don’t be alarmed if you see cars and trucks in the drive. O
nce that’s done he’ll send someone to stage the downstairs.”

  “Stage?”

  “They move everything around and make it look like a place someone would want to buy. Good luck with that one. But whatever they do will have to be an improvement.”

  “Ah. You’re certainly moving fast.”

  “Yes.” Like yanking off a bandage, one quick painful moment and then it was over.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to oversee the work?”

  “No. I trust Ray. He’ll know what to do.” And if I stay, I may change my mind. From the moment he’d made his rash statement to Meri about selling—something he’d been thinking about for a while—the house began to call him back. He had to get away before he succumbed—it would eventually suffocate him.

  “Well, have a good time in the city.”

  It took Alden a second to respond. “Thanks. If you need anything—”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Then I’d better go.”

  “Yes.”

  He should go, but instead he studied her face, as if he had to memorize something he feared he would forget.

  “Alden, if you’re expecting me to try to stop you, don’t.”

  “Why would I?”

  She gave him the blandest look he had ever seen from her.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know you don’t. For a smart man . . .” She shook her head and shut the door on him.

  Chapter 24

  It was almost eleven when Meri raced into work, passing the empty kitchen and going straight to Carlyn’s office.

  Carlyn looked up.

  Meri lifted her hand now clad in an extralarge Band-Aid. “Stitches out. I’m ready to rock ’n’ roll.” She stopped. “It’s awfully quiet this morning.”

  “Tell me about it. Lost a few over the weekend.”

  “Oh, who?”

  “The master carpenter for starters.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, I thought he was going to start crying over the phone. He really hates doing closets and kitchens. He said he’d come back as soon as we got the money to pay him.”

  “Do you have anybody lined up?”

  “No, we’re like the kiss of death. It’s gone all over town about us having to cut back to four days. Nobody wants to sign on for something that’s floundering.”