The Guest Cottage

by Nancy Thayer

  Leo gave a tiny nod.

  “Are you vegetarian or vegan or lactose intolerant?” Sophie asked, wondering if she was making a big mistake.

  “Nope. We’ll pretty much eat anything, although Leo eats only one thing for lunch. I’ll make his lunch.”

  Sophie glanced at her kids. At home, they alternated nights cleaning the kitchen. They’d be thrilled with this arrangement.

  “Let’s try it for a week,” Sophie suggested. “The whole living together, cooking, cleaning thing. Let’s try it for a week and then evaluate.”

  “It’s a deal,” Trevor said, and held out his hand.

  Sophie extended her hand to shake. Again, Trevor’s grip was warm and firm, not too hard, not too soft. Like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, she thought irrationally: just right.

  Trevor hefted his son in his arms and carried him up to bed. Sophie herded her own two children upstairs, let Jonah choose his room, and agreed to allow Lacey to sleep with her in the big queen bed for this first night. They dragged up their luggage, did a minimal bit of unpacking, and then Sophie supervised Lacey brushing her teeth and nagged Jonah to do the same.

  She returned to the kitchen after tucking her daughter in and calling good night to Jonah through his closed bedroom door. Trevor was already there, feet up on the table, a beer in his hand.

  “Wow,” said Sophie, looking around the tidy kitchen. “You’re fast.”

  “Yeah, it was really hard to put all that stuff in the trash or the fridge.” Trevor held up a bottle. “Have a beer. They’re cold.”

  Sophie hesitated. She never drank beer. She preferred wine, or a vodka tonic on a hot summer day. But she hadn’t brought any liquor with her and she could use a drink right now. “Thanks.” She took a Heineken from the refrigerator.

  “Your kids asleep?” asked Trevor.

  “Lacey is. She was wiped out from all the fresh air and sunshine. But heaven only knows when Jonah will go to bed. He’ll stay up tapping away at his cell phone or his computer until the middle of the night and then he’ll sleep until two in the afternoon.”

  “Typical teenage boy.”

  “And Leo?”

  “He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. I didn’t even make him brush his teeth or use the john. I hope I don’t regret that tomorrow morning.” Trevor quickly added, “He doesn’t wet the bed anymore, but this is an unusual day. And I’ll do all our laundry, of course.”

  “He’s a sweet kid.”

  Trevor leaned his forearms on the kitchen table—he had nice, muscular arms, broad shoulders, and long legs, all in all a spectacular package, Sophie thought. She felt herself blush at the word package. When had she gotten so self-conscious, so prudish?

  “Right.” Trevor announced, “Cards on the table. True confession time.” Seeing the confusion on Sophie’s face, he clarified: “I’m not asking for salacious details. I just thought while the children are sleeping we should get a few things out in the open so we don’t make some kind of giant blunder in front of them. I mean, you should probably know Leo’s mother died last fall.”

  “She died?” Sophie’s hand flew to her heart. “Dear Lord. I’m so sorry. Oh, your poor little boy.”

  Trevor nodded. “People keep telling me kids are resilient. Still…Anyway, that’s why I brought him here. I’m kind of hoping summer on the island will help him heal.” He shrugged. “That’s the word the professionals use. Heal.”

  “It’s hard to know what to say,” Sophie murmured softly. “It’s a terrible situation. Heartbreaking.”

  Trevor shifted uncomfortably.

  “That puts my problem in perspective,” Sophie admitted. “I’m here because my husband’s in love with another architect, the young and gorgeous Lila.”

  “Ouch.” He blinked. “Are you two splitting up?”

  “Probably. Jonah and Lacey don’t know, by the way. I haven’t told them—I’m not sure what to say. When Susie called me about this house, I jumped at the chance to put some space between me and Zack. We both have a lot to think about.”

  “Are you sad?” Trevor asked, rushing to explain: “I mean, sometimes people feel okay when someone breaks up with them.”

  Sophie looked out at the horizon. “It’s complicated.”

  “Anyway.” Trevor stood up and stretched. “So I guess we know the basics. Tonight went well, and tomorrow’s another day, right? This house is huge. It’s sort of like residing in a hotel but we have to supply the room service.” He yawned openly. “Sorry, but I’m beat. There’s nothing like sea air to make you sleep well.”

  “I’m tired, too.” Trevor’s yawn was contagious. Luxurious drowsiness swept through Sophie. “I’ll make a grocery list in the morning and if you’d like, you can leave Leo with us while you go to the store.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not sure that he’s ready for that yet. Let’s see how everything is in the morning.” Trevor took his empty bottle and rinsed it out in the sink. Over his shoulder, he said, with a smile, “I hope you’re not planning to rise at the crack of dawn.”

  Sophie crossed the kitchen and set her own bottle in the sink, allowing herself to be sidetracked for a moment by the pleasurable sensation of standing so close to the tall young man. “If I do rise early, I promise not to bang a gong and force us out for an early morning march.”

  “Please, no.” Trevor grinned.

  “All right, then, good night.” She forced herself away from that smile. When she was at the door to the hallway, she turned. “Thanks for insisting that we go to the beach tonight instead of unpacking. That was a really good idea.”

  As she walked up the wide central staircase, Sophie had the surreal feeling she was ascending into another, different world where she felt happy, content, relaxed, and also kind of turned on. She would have to drink beer more often.

  —

  She woke around eight the next morning. Late for her, but the house was quiet. Beside her, Lacey slept deeply, making sweet piglet snores. Sophie slipped from the bed and padded to the bathroom. The mirror reflected her typical night wear—a stretched-out, too large, ancient, dark green T-shirt hanging over boxer shorts. No wonder Zack went to Lila.

  Downstairs, the cool morning air drifted in the open windows. She made coffee—she had brought her Keurig—and took it out to the patio off the kitchen. Settling in a large wooden deck chair, she folded her legs beneath her, sipped her coffee, and gazed around. A large yard stretched a good long distance, bordered by an unpainted wooden fence with a crisscross of lattice at the top. The grass needed mowing. At the edge of the patio, the geraniums and pansies in the two plaster urns needed watering.

  To the left, the music room led straight to the private apartment. No sign of movement flashed in the windows. Sophie had told the kids about the grandfather living there. She’d warned them not to bother him. She would introduce herself sometime, but there was no need to rush.

  Clouds drifted high in the sky and a slight breeze shivered the air. She would take Jonah and Lacey into town this morning and they could go to the beach this afternoon. They had to unpack, too. And she needed to make a grocery list for Trevor. She liked him, although he was so handsome it was almost embarrassing to look at him during normal conversation. He didn’t seem to notice, though, and he was funny and easygoing, even though he’d been recently widowed.

  What a summer of surprises this was. Susie’s phone call, Zack with his announcement about Lila, this vacation house, complete with strange man and child. It was unsettling. She knew she was not good at spontaneity. She preferred routine, boundaries, organization.

  Now all that was gone. She might very well become a single parent. Her husband of sixteen years was in love with a younger woman. The comfortable, even enviable home life she had spent her youthful years creating for her family was about to be shattered. She wondered if she was in a state of shock; if she had been since Zack’s announcement. She thought she was doing pretty well, putting one foot in front of the other, keeping a cheer
ful face, being an optimistic, efficient mother…holding back a landslide, a flash flood, a geyser of emotion and desire. Desire. She had forgotten all about desire.

  Okay. She was getting herself all worked up on this luscious Nantucket morning. She forced herself to return to the kitchen for more coffee, found a notepad and pen, and began making a grocery list for Trevor.

  Trevor wandered into the kitchen barefoot and unshaven. He wore board shorts and a T-shirt with a picture of a horse’s head on it and the words Why the long face? Little Leo followed, clutching a duffel bag to his chest. Like his father, he was fully dressed but barefoot.

  “Try it under the table, Leo,” Trevor told his son. “That won’t get in anyone’s way.” He scratched his head, making his dark hair stand out in several directions. “Coffee! I smell coffee.”

  “Good morning,” said Sophie. “Help yourself. Cups are on the counter.”

  Trevor’s eyes darted around the room, landing on anything but Sophie, who wore a baggy T-shirt that couldn’t hide the fullness of her breasts. When had a woman last greeted him with a smile? Or filled the room with such a clean, sweet fragrance that he wanted to rub up against her skin like a cat? Or made coffee in the morning? He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a large gulp. “Man, this is good.”

  Leo had obligingly crawled under the large kitchen table, where he knelt, unpacking his Legos. With great care, he began his routine, grouping them according to color: yellow, blue, red, green.

  “Leo, want some Cheerios?” Without waiting for an answer, he poured some Cheerios into a bowl and set them on the floor next to his son.

  Sophie looked concerned. “Doesn’t he want milk?”

  “He prefers to eat them by the handful. I’ll give him some juice after a while.” Sophie’s eyebrows folded into a small frown. “Hey, don’t worry, he gets plenty of milk.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Sophie said lightly, adding, “It’s a gorgeous day.”

  Trevor opened the sliding door to the patio and stepped out into the sunshine.

  “Daddy.” Leo didn’t raise his voice, but the anxiety was there.

  “Right here, kid. Not going anywhere.” Returning to the kitchen, Trevor poured himself a bowl of Cheerios and added milk. He pulled out a chair and joined Sophie at the table. Nodding toward a bowl of fruit in the middle of the table, he said, “That looks nice.”

  “Help yourself,” Sophie told him. “I keep a lot of fruit around for the children.”

  She wore no makeup. Her face glowed from yesterday’s sun, accentuating the blue of her eyes. One eyebrow arched a fraction of an inch more than the other. No pencil darkened her brows. She was all natural, and healthy, and fresh.

  Sophie looked puzzled. “Would you like a banana?”

  Trevor jerked himself back to reality. He nodded toward the sheet of paper in her hands. “Is that the grocery list?”

  “It is.” Sophie’s slid the paper across the table to Trevor, who took a moment to read it as he shoveled Cheerios into his mouth.

  “Huh? Arugula? Salmon? Quinoa?” His mood flipped. Leo had never eaten these things, and in his fragile emotional state it would be a disaster to suggest it. “Excuse me, but I thought we were buying food for children, not for international CEOs.”

  Sophie arched an eyebrow, the slightly higher one. “Doesn’t Leo eat fish?”

  Protectively, Trevor said, “He eats tuna fish. Leo is four years old. He likes hot dogs, pizza, mac and cheese, cheese-and-mustard sandwiches, cheeseburgers, and French fries. I make him eat some cucumber, carrot, or edamame with every meal.” Trevor looked down at the list again. “But linguine? Clams? First of all, how can he even eat linguine? I can hardly eat it. It falls off the fork. And clams? He’s never had them before. I’m not a fan either. They taste like rubber.” He knew he sounded unreasonable, but he didn’t want Leo faced with unusual food that would frighten him into throwing a tantrum.

  Was she being judged, insulted, found lacking in her judgment? Sophie went on the defensive. “So you’re saying we all have to eat at the level of a four-year-old’s palate?”

  Offended on his son’s behalf, Trevor snapped, “Well, excuse me, Nigella Lawson.”

  Sophie counted to ten and tried to be reasonable. “I’m remembering that when Jonah and Lacey were younger, I cooked everything and insisted they each try two or three bites. If they hated it, I made them a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. But I think it’s a good idea for children to learn to like all kinds of food.”

  “Okay,” Trevor agreed uncomfortably, “I take your point. But sometimes it’s best to stick with what’s familiar.”

  Leo, Sophie thought. She’d been thoughtless. “Of course.”

  “ ’Sup?” Jonah, garbed like Trevor in shorts and a T-shirt, came into the room, his flip-flops flapping with each step. Pulling out a chair, he collapsed into it, sticking his long legs under the kitchen table.

  “No!” Leo shouted from beneath the table. “Now you’ve ruined everything!”

  Trevor half rose from his chair in alarm.

  Sophie reached over and clasped Trevor’s wrist. She whispered, “Wait.”

  Trevor gawked at her as if she had gone mad. Underneath the table, his little boy was crying.

  “Dude.” In one lanky coil, Jonah slipped out of his chair and onto the floor. “Sorry. Didn’t see you there. Hey, this is cool. What is it?”

  Sophie had no idea at all how fragile his son was, how upsetting the destruction of his Lego project would be for Leo, and how Jonah must seem like some kind of gigantic teenage transformer. And she had no idea of the thrashing, screaming monster Leo could turn into if something set him off. “Leo—”

  Leo sniffed. “It’s the Great Wall of China.”

  “Dude, that is totally awesome,” said Jonah. “Want me to help you put it back together?”

  Leo was quiet for a while. “I have to do it a special way.”

  “Got it,” Jonah said calmly. He crawled out from under the table and stood up. He bent down and said to Leo, “But tell me if you want some help.”

  Sophie’s hand was soft and warm. Her touch made the back of Trevor’s neck shiver. He wanted to seize her, throw her on the table, and ravish her. At the same time, he wanted her to back off, to let him handle Leo. He didn’t want his son upset, nor did he need her to see how helpless he was in the face of Leo’s outbursts.

  “Listen, Sophie,” Trevor began.

  Jonah snapped off two bananas and stepped out onto the patio to eat them. Under the table, Leo hummed to himself as he repaired his Lego wall.

  “Yes?” She tilted her pretty face toward his, waiting.

  What the hell was happening here? He didn’t even know this woman who’d brazenly touched him as if they were somehow related, who walked around in boxer shorts with her pretty legs hanging out, who appeared before him all natural and braless, who made him feel so many things at the same time he was afraid he would explode. The intimacy between them was like a song he’d never heard before. At the same time, anger flared from his gut. Who did she think she was to intervene between him and his son? She knew nothing about what Leo was going through.

  “Look, how can I say this? My little guy is special.”

  Sophie settled back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “All kids are special.”

  “What I mean is, maybe you shouldn’t tell me what to do with my own kid.”

  “I’m trying to help. I’ve raised two children. I know what four-year-olds are like.”

  Trevor stalked across the room and poured himself more coffee, giving himself time to think. “Okay, sure. But you don’t know what my four-year-old is like.”

  “Trevor, maybe you should remember no man is an island. If we’re going to live together for the next two months, we have to be comfortable talking to each other’s children.”

  You haven’t seen Leo’s tantrums, he thought helplessly. But he didn’t want to scare her off and ruin this arrangement. Corner
ed, he snapped, “So now you’re Dr. Seuss?”

  Sophie covered her mouth to hide a smile. “I think you mean Dr. Spock.”

  Trevor felt his eyes bug out. “From Star Trek?”

  She couldn’t prevent a laugh that made her head fall back, exposing her slender throat.

  Humiliated, Trevor said, “Don’t be so superior. I’ve raised my son all by myself while running a successful computer business out of my house. I haven’t had time to read books or chat with mommies or find out about the latest authorities on children.”

  He saw he’d struck a nerve with Sophie. She sat up straight in her chair. “I get that, Trevor. I raised two children practically by myself.” She glanced out at the patio, where Jonah stood, eating a banana while absentmindedly observing a robin. “Their father never changed a diaper or cooked a meal. In the early years, when he was starting his architectural firm, not only did I take care of the babies but I also did all the bookkeeping for him until Zack could afford to find someone else to do it. I’m not trying to act superior and I would never interfere with your disciplining of your son. But I’ve spent a lot of time with children. Okay, Jonah is not so young anymore, but Lacey is only ten and she loves babysitting. If we’re lucky, these children will be relaxed together, and so will we.”

  As she talked, Sophie’s tone changed from challenging to placating. She had an earnest expression in her eyes. She really was trying to be friendly. He’d been a jerk, lashing out like that, and he hated himself for it.

  Trevor said, “I apologize. I guess I freaked out a bit about the food. But Leo and I have both been knocked off-kilter, by, um—” He gestured vaguely with his hand, not wanting to mention Tallulah’s death with Leo nearby. “We sort of need to do what’s normal. What’s comfortable. I don’t think we’re up for any changes yet.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Sophie said. “I think I understand.” She waited a beat, then two, for him to continue. “Okay, well, I’d better get organized.” She hurried from the room.