“Okay, boys,” Jason said, “shall we get your sister inside and feed her? And Emma, too?”
“Yes! I like cheeseburgers. Do you like cheeseburgers?” Duncan asked.
“I do! Who doesn’t, right?” Riley looked at Jamilah. “It’s great finally meeting you in person,” she said.
Jamilah surprised me by hugging her. “You, too, sweetheart. Don’t let these boys talk your ear off, okay? See you soon.”
She nodded to Jason, gave me a small smile and glided over to her Audi station wagon.
We were at Dockside, a restaurant where the views had always been better than the food. It hadn’t changed much—a casual place with the expected fake lobsters and starfish hanging from the walls. The boys were firing questions off at Riley—why was her skin so white? Her hair was so red! Did she skateboard? Did she like video games? Would she take them swimming? Riley was eating it up.
“Man. This is great, seeing them together,” Jason said. “I can’t believe it’s the first time. We should’ve made it happen sooner. That’s on me.” He sighed, then looked at me, smiling. “You look so good, Em. I’ve missed you.”
“Thanks. You too,” I said.
“Can we have our own booth?” Duncan asked, he of the mischievous dimples. “Please, Dad? We’ll be good.”
“I’d like to spend time with my girl,” he said.
“You can have her later,” Owen said. “We need her now.”
“They need me now,” Riley said, grinning.
Jason and I both laughed. “How’s this?” Jason said. “You can order milkshakes, but when lunch comes, Emma and I will sit with you, okay?”
“Yay!” the boys said. They dragged Riley to a booth by the window, chattering like blackbirds.
“What lovely boys,” I said.
“They’re great. Here. Let’s sit at the bar, where we can keep an eye on them. Want a glass of wine?”
“No, thanks,” I said. It was only lunchtime.
Jason perused the drinks menu. “I’ll have a Lonesome Boatman,” he said as the bartender came over. “Thanks, Jen. Hey, this is my . . . uh . . . my daughter’s mother,” he said. “Emma London, meet Jen, the world’s best bartender.”
“We went to school together, idiot,” she said, flicking the towel at him. “How you doing, Emma?”
“Great! It’s good to see you.” Jen Pottsman, salutatorian of our class, now bartending. If memory served, she’d gone to Amherst. “How’ve you been?”
“Not bad. Your daughter’s wicked cute.”
“Thanks,” Jason and I said simultaneously, then laughed. I guess I’d have to get used to sharing credit for her, at least for the summer.
“Anything for you, Emma?”
“Just seltzer water, please.”
“You got it.” She went off, and I watched as Riley ordered milkshakes for all three of them. You’d think she grew up with the boys, the way she was talking to them, laughing. She tapped Duncan on the nose, then proceeded to breathe on her spoon and press it against his, where it balanced for a few seconds.
I’d taught her that trick. Used to do it every time we went out, which, granted, hadn’t been that often.
“One seltzer, one Lonesome Boatman,” Jen said, setting down our drinks. “Want any food?”
“We’ll eat with the kids,” Jason said. “Thanks, Jen.”
“You got it. Well, I bet you have a lot to catch up on, so I’ll leave you alone. Good seeing you, Emma.”
“Yeah, you too.”
She went away, and Jason shifted so he could see me better. “You have not aged a bit,” he said.
“Since December?” The last time he’d been to Chicago.
“I mean, you look like you’re still eighteen.”
“Please. I don’t want to look like a dumb kid anymore.”
He smiled. “At least us being dumb made a great daughter.”
“There is that, yes.” I watched as he took a long drink from his beer. “Lonesome Boatman, huh?”
“It describes me these days,” he said with a wink.
“Except you’re not a boatman.”
“They didn’t have a Lonesome Carpenter.” Another grin. “Well, I guess I should tell you I’m not sure Jamilah and I are gonna make it.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“She’s changed.”
Oh, boy. The cry of the idiot husband. “I am a therapist, if you’d like to talk about it. You can have the family rate and everything.”
“No, no, it’s fine. We did try that. Counseling. Anyway. The boys don’t know yet.”
“Where are you living?” I asked.
“With my parents.” He grimaced. “It’s just kind of expensive. You know. Child support for you—”
“For Riley, actually.” My fingers tightened on the water glass. Every penny he’d ever sent went directly to Riley’s needs. I’d never used a single dime of it. Not a penny, unless you counted groceries.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry,” said Jason. “Of course. For Riley. But we have the mortgage, and the boys are in private school, all that stuff. If Jamilah worked a few more hours a month, she’d make more than I do, but God forbid . . . Anyway, I won’t bore you with that. The lowdown is I can’t rent anything right now. How about you? You staying with Genevieve?”
“Seems that way. Riley loves the house.”
“How is she, the old hag?”
“She’s good. Stuck-up as ever.”
“She always looks right through me when I run into her in town.” He grinned and took another pull of his beer.
Jason was handsome, to be sure. Big dark blue eyes, thick lashes, a huge smile. Right now, he looked rugged with a few days of stubble, and his hair was dark and curly. Riley, too, had those coarse, irrepressible curls, though the color had come from my mom, also a redhead. Her eyes were sky blue . . . stunning if I did say so, and while I understood genetics, I never could guess where she’d gotten that shade.
I liked to imagine my mother would’ve loved Riley. She of the winter forts, the best cookies, the giggles at bedtime.
Why’d you leave, Mom?
The eternal question. One worn out from repetition, and one I rarely allowed myself as an adult. But somehow this odd reunion—Genevieve, Donelle, Jason and his family—had me thinking about it. And yeah, I knew all the clinical answers, but the eight-year-old in me still wanted more.
I still missed her. I would always miss her.
“So Genevieve is sick, huh?” Jason asked, bringing me back to the moment. “Always figured she was too mean to die.”
“Me too,” I said. “Guess not.”
“Will you inherit everything?”
The question made me blink. Then again, we shared a daughter, so I guessed my finances were his business, sort of.
“No,” I said honestly. “She’s made that quite clear.”
“Too bad. What with college coming up for Riley.”
“Yeah, about that, Jason. We’re gonna need your help.”
He grimaced. “Sure. I’ll give what I can.”
“How about your parents? Did they save anything for her?”
He gave me a look. “What do you think?”
“So that’s a no.”
In a nutshell, Jason’s parents were shits. Once, I had loved Courtney and Robert Finlay. Imagined them as my in-laws, spent more time at their house than Sheerwater in my last two years of high school, stopping by on Thanksgiving when our own frosty family dinner had been endured, and basked in their solidarity—the aunts, uncles, cousins and, of course, Jason.
Courtney had adored me when I was heir to Sheerwater and the London fortune. She’d been big on compliments—how good I was for Jason, how sweet we were together, how smart/pretty/kind I was. And she had a mad crush on Genevieve. “I just adore your grandma’s bags!
” she’d coo. She had six or seven and always flashed them around town, especially in Genevieve’s presence. “I couldn’t resist this color!” she’d say when they ran into each other. “So good to see you, Genevieve! We should sit down with these gorgeous kids and have our families get to know each other!”
“I hardly think that’s necessary,” Genevieve would murmur. “It’s quite infrequent that high school sweethearts stay together, after all.”
It didn’t have the chilling effect Genevieve intended. Courtney volunteered on every committee Genevieve was on—historical society, garden club, scholarship fund—and kissed up to Genevieve at every step, hinting about marriage (which was fine by me back then). She wanted access to Genevieve’s world, and Genevieve was quite content to keep the secret handshake to herself.
Given its natural beauty and lovely homes, Stoningham attracted a few celebrities in the summer. We weren’t the Hamptons (thank God) but we had a sighting or three each year. Many knew Genevieve through her company or charities. One year, Meryl Streep came for dinner at Sheerwater—she and Genevieve were on the board of some organization, and Courtney begged me to get her invited. When that failed, she asked for just five minutes so she could tell Meryl how much she adored every movie she’d ever made.
I tried. I loved Courtney, who gave me a glimpse of what it would be like to have a mother. “Gigi,” I pleaded. “She loves Meryl Streep. It would make her life to meet her.”
Genevieve, sitting behind her enormous desk, gave me a pitying look. “You do realize that woman is trying to use you to get to me,” she’d said, and honestly, the ego! The narcissism! The bitchery! “She is the very worst type of social climber.”
“No, she’s not! She’s really nice. You should give her a chance.”
Genevieve raised an eyebrow and said no more.
Turned out she had been a hundred percent correct. The second I’d been unceremoniously turned out of Sheerwater, Courtney cast me as an irresponsible slut who was trying to latch on to her son, steal his money and ruin his future. His role in impregnating me was dismissed with “you know how boys are.”
Robert, who was what can only be termed a limp dick, fell into line. Jason would “do his duty,” but I had better not expect anything from them. We knew where babies came from, and he was disappointed with us both. When Riley was born, they didn’t come out. Didn’t send a present. Pretended Riley—our beautiful child—didn’t exist.
“By the way,” I said now, taking a sip of my seltzer. “I’m not crazy about the idea of Riley spending time with your folks.”
Jason frowned. “I was kind of hoping they’d get to know her a little bit.”
“It’s a no, Jason. They’ve had sixteen years to get to know her.” My jaw locked. Fuck the Finlays. They didn’t deserve her. Riley had had shit luck in the grandparent department—Clark, my mother, the idiot Finlays—but at least she had Pop.
He nodded. “True. Sorry. They’re great with the boys, so . . . yeah. I see your point. Never mind.” He finished his beer. “Well. I’m glad you’re here. Both of you. I think it’ll be a great summer. Why don’t we go sit with the kids?”
“Sure thing,” I said.
As I got off the stool, he stood and hugged me. “I’ve really, really missed you,” he said.
I patted his back and stepped away quickly.
Once upon a time, I’d loved Jason Finlay with my whole heart. And when you’ve only had one experience with love, I guess it leaves a mark.
CHAPTER 12
Emma
Rose Hill had once been a small college for women. Forty years ago, it became a residential facility for children who needed care that their families, for a variety of reasons, could not provide. Most of the kids here were profoundly intellectually disabled, and many had physical challenges as well.
It was a private facility, staffed by a fleet of nurses and doctors and physical, occupational and speech therapists equipped with every amenity you could dream of—an accessible playground, four golden retrievers who were trained as therapy pets, a small stable for equine therapy. I imagined it was ungodly expensive. If not for Genevieve, I wasn’t sure where my sister would be. With me, I guessed. Genevieve was too old to care for a special-needs kid, and my father . . . no.
Beth, my pal from high school, was waiting for me in the parking lot. Over the years, she’d met me here a few times and hung out with Hope and me. Sometimes, because she was such a good soul, she’d visit Hope just to say hi.
“Hey!” she said now, and we hugged. “I love your hair.”
“And I love yours.” It was an old joke—Beth’s hair was the stuff of legend, long and chestnut brown and naturally curly, and being a woman, she hated it. Mine was straight and dark blond and unremarkable, and for decades, we’d wished we could trade.
“How’s Hope?” she asked.
“From what I know, she’s great.”
We walked up the long, winding path to the main building. “Think there are any single doctors here?” Beth asked.
“I don’t know. You’re dating again?” She had a long history of terrible taste in men.
“Sort of. I just want a baby. Can’t you give me Riley? All the hard work is done, and she’s so great.”
“Okay. Done.”
“Seriously. I want a baby. I’m thirty-five. Why wasn’t I smart like you? Should’ve gotten knocked up in high school so I could be the cool young mom.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s always a great plan. We teenage mothers have it made.”
She shoved me. “Blah blah blah. Just keep your eye out. Maybe Jason will impregnate me. He makes gorgeous kids.”
“Yeah, I met his sons today.”
“Oh, right. I guess I should be sensitive and ask how that went.”
“It was fine. Jamilah’s . . . nice.”
“She’s amazing. How about her shaved head, huh? You watch. A dozen women will show up to yoga bald next week.” Beth cut me a look. “Do you hate her?”
“No! I just . . .” I stopped to fondle a clump of deep purple petunias in a planter. Rose Hill had a crew of gardeners as well. “It’s just that she’s Jason’s second love, and I was his first.”
“You wanted to be his only.”
“That was a long time ago. He’s good to Riley and never misses a payment.”
“Such a prince. Anyway, back to me. Keep your eyes peeled for my future husband.”
“Your third,” I couldn’t help saying.
“And final. All I want is a baby. From a rich guy. Believe it or not, being a florist and part-time bartender hasn’t put me in the one percent.”
We went into the main building, where the kids played and did physical therapy and the like. “Good to see you, Emma,” said Caridad, one of the nurses. She came over and gave me a hug.
“Nice to see you, too,” I said. “Do you remember my friend Beth?”
They smiled at each other. “Also,” I went on, “you’ll see me quite a bit this summer. My daughter and I are staying with Genevieve for a bit.”
“Are you? How wonderful! There’s nothing like family.”
Beth snorted. “Mm,” I said.
“How’s that sweet girl of yours? Riley, right?”
“Yes. She’s great. She’s with her dad at the moment, but she’ll be coming later this week. Where’s Hope?”
“She’s right down the hall. Working on motor skills. She’ll be so happy to see you.”
“I’ll let you two visit,” Beth said. “I’ll just wander around.”
“Best of luck,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
Caridad led me down the hall. The sound of construction was a dull roar in the background.
“Are you expanding?” I asked.
“We have your wonderful grandmother to thank for that,” she said. “They’re putting on the new wing,” she
said.
“Oh, wow. That’s fantastic!” Maybe Genevieve could’ve mentioned that last night, rather than shooting insults across the Limoges china.
“And over here is the new saltwater indoor pool.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, the kids hate the old one. Too cold. I don’t blame them. And the chlorine! It takes days to wash the smell out of your skin.” She opened a door. “Miss Hope! Look who’s here to see you!”
My sister was with an aide. She didn’t look up, trying to put differently shaped plastic pieces in their correlating box—the circle in the round box, the triangle in the triangular box.
“Hope, you have a visitor,” the aide said. She was new.
I went over and knelt down in front of Hope. “Hi, sweetie,” I said, and then her face lit up, and she leaned against me.
“I missed you,” I said, my eyes filling even as I smiled. “Hi, I’m Hope’s sister, Emma,” I said, reaching a hand out to the new aide even as I held Hope.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Dakota.” She stood up. “I’ll let you guys have your visit.”
“See you later, Emma,” Caridad said, and both women went out.
Hope was smiling now, humming her happiness in the sweetest way. “How’s my girl?” I asked. “Are you wonderful? You are. You’re a sweet, sweet girl.” I kissed her hair and hugged her close.
Hope had drawn the short stick with her condition. She didn’t talk, and while she could follow some simple instructions, it was clear that she would need to be cared for her entire life, however long or short that might be.
She looked up at me, smiling. Fifteen years old, but she looked much younger. “Who loves you?” I asked. “Guess what? It’s me! I love you, honeybun.”
Her eyes were bluish-green and beautiful, with irises that looked like they were made up of pieces of stained glass. Then, because Hope was a creature of habit and it was kind of our thing, I took her hands in mine and started clapping them and singing “Rubber Duckie” from Sesame Street. Her face lit up.
It was our song, after all.
Beth poked her head in about an hour later, informing me that she had seen only one male and he had failed to meet her criteria for baby daddy. She stayed to roll balls around with Hope and me, then left, giving my sister a kiss on the cheek and me a pat on the head.
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