“Oh.”
“Will you be terribly disappointed if I don’t go to the party tonight?”
She shrugged. “I think you would’ve enjoyed it, Mitch.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He stood and pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “But what would we do if I got too caught up in the moment—too much champagne, the fireworks over the water, my beautiful girl in my arms—and I proposed? Then where would we be?”
Caroline kissed him. “Maybe you’re right, Mitch. Maybe you should go home today. We both need some time. Some time to think.”
They were quiet on the ride to the municipal airport, and they kept their good-byes short and sweet, but his plane looked blurry as it shot up into the clear blue. For a moment, Caroline thought the fog was rolling in after all. But then she realized it was just the tears filling her eyes. She waved wildly with both arms, knowing he probably couldn’t see her from up there. And as she walked back to her car, she wondered if she’d made a huge mistake.
Chapter 22
Marley
Perhaps it was romantic frustration, or just a matter of financial planning for her old age, or maybe her pump had been primed by Walter Cronkite, but Marley was painting again—and it felt good. She was in the zone. It showed not only on her canvases, but in her bungalow, where her bed was unmade, the kitchen a mess, and the garbage can overflowing. Plus, she was sorely in need of provisions. And a shower. She was so obsessed with her art, she hadn’t even answered her phone.
At least that’s what she told herself as she ignored its ringing. Later, when taking a break, she would check for messages and, if she was so inclined, return a call. However, she hadn’t returned Jack’s calls. Whether it was hurt feelings, immaturity, or just plain confusion was unclear. But Marley knew she was in avoidance mode.
When she heard someone knocking on her door, however, she had to set down her brush. Thinking it was probably Doris, she yelled, “Come in!” as she wiped her paint-smeared hands on a rag.
“Marley!” cried Hunter as she came into the house. “Are you okay?”
“Oh.” Marley stared at the little girl. “How did you get out here?”
“Grandpa brought me.” Hunter tipped her head over to where Jack was still waiting outside.
“Oh. Well, come in, both of you.” She offered a feeble smile, holding up her hands. “I’m a mess and my house is a mess, but welcome.”
“I called you on the phone,” Hunter told her. “But you never answered. And I told Grandpa I was worried about you.”
Marley knelt down and looked in Hunter’s eyes. “You are such a darling—I’d hug you except that I’d probably get paint on you.”
“That’s okay. These are just play clothes anyway.” Hunter hugged Marley.
Marley hugged the little girl back. “I missed you,” Marley whispered in her ear.
“I missed you, too.” Hunter looked over to the painting Marley was working on. “Wow, that’s pretty. Is it going to be a boat?”
Marley showed Hunter the photo that was the inspiration for her piece. “I guess it doesn’t look much like this, but it is going to be a boat.”
“Nice.” Jack came closer, rubbing his chin in the way he did when he liked something.
“Thanks.” She smiled at him. “How are you doing?”
“It’s been busy.”
“But that’s good thing.”
“Yep.” He frowned slightly. “How are you?”
“Well, I finally emerged out of my creative slump. But I think I’ve been kind of obsessed lately.” She ran a hand through her uncombed hair. “At least I haven’t cut off an ear yet.”
Jack made an uncomfortable-sounding laugh.
“You’re going to cut off your ear?” Hunter asked with concern.
“No, darling, I’m just kidding. There was an artist a long time ago who did that. I made a bad joke.” She turned back to Jack. “I’m sorry you felt like you needed to drive out here to check on me. It’s just that I’ve been so absorbed with painting.” She waved her hand. “As you can see, I’ve let everything else go.” She kicked a pair of clogs out of the way, tossed some pillows that had fallen on the floor back onto the sofa. “I suppose it’s time to take a break and clean this place up.”
“I can help you,” Hunter offered.
“Really?” Marley patted her head. “You’d be willing to do that?”
“I’d like to help.”
Marley looked at Jack. “Want to leave Hunter with me for the rest of the day?”
He shrugged. “It’s up to Hunter.”
“Please, Grandpa,” she pleaded.
“Looks like you girls got yourself a date.” He stepped back toward the door. “And I better get back to the gallery. Town is hopping today.” He glanced at a painting of a lighthouse leaning against the wall. Marley had just finished it yesterday. “Anything you’d like me to take back with me?” he asked her. “Or are these for Santa Barbara?”
Caught off guard, she didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, she liked the idea of getting an optimum price for her work, on the other hand, this was Jack—the man who’d believed in her work enough to hang it in his gallery. “Why don’t you go ahead and take that one?” she told him.
“Really?” He brightened. “How about the price?”
“I’ll trust you to figure that out.” She smiled at him—a genuine smile this time.
“Okay.” He nodded as he picked it up and studied it. “It’s really nice. I’ll price it accordingly.”
“Thanks, Jack.”
“See you later,” he called as he headed out.
Marley, aided by Hunter, went to work setting her bungalow to order. “The trouble with a small house,” Marley told Hunter as they worked on the kitchen together, “is that if you don’t keep everything in its place, it gets messy fast.”
“I love your house.”
“Thanks, Hunter. I do too.”
“And I like that you don’t have a TV.”
“Really?” Marley peered curiously at her. “You used to complain about that.”
“TV is boring.” Hunter scrubbed hard on the stovetop. “Leah watches TV all day long. She doesn’t even know how to draw or paint or color or anything.”
Marley chuckled. “Well, maybe you should teach her.”
“I don’t think she wants to learn.”
After the house was looking pretty good, Marley handed Hunter the leftover paints still in her palette as well as small canvas. “Why don’t you see what you can do with this while I take a shower?”
“Really?” Hunter stared at the blank canvas. “A real painting?”
“Sure. You’re a good artist.”
“What should I paint?”
“What do you want to paint?”
Hunter looked over at Marley’s unfinished piece. “A boat.”
“Then paint a boat.” Marley pulled out several other photos, laying them around on the nearby table. “But make it your own boat—however you want it to look. Not just like the photos.”
Hunter nodded eagerly. “Okay!”
Marley took her time in the long-overdue shower—one of the many benefits of an on-demand water heater. When she got out, she checked on Hunter, who was still intently working on her canvas. “Don’t look yet,” Hunter warned her.
“Okay. I guess I’ll do my hair then.”
“Good idea,” Hunter called back.
Marley took her time doing her hair. Mindful of what she’d been telling Abby about French women, Marley decided to put some extra effort into the rest of her appearance as well. She told herself she wasn’t primping for Jack’s sake, although she knew she was looking forward to seeing him again when she took Hunter back to him. She was embarrassed to
have been caught looking so frowsy, especially considering how Sylvia usually looked—coiffed and perfect.
“You look pretty,” Hunter told Marley when she finally emerged.
“Thanks.”
“Is that because today is New Year’s Eve?” Hunter asked.
Marley slapped her forehead. “It’s New Year’s Eve today?”
“Uh-huh.” Hunter’s attention turned back to her painting.
“How the time flies.” She looked around her tidied bungalow. “I think you must’ve gotten here just in the nick of time.”
“Huh?”
“To help me start the New Year right. It would’ve been such a shame to welcome the New Year like a pig in a pig pen.”
Hunter laughed. “Okay, you can come look at my picture now. I’m almost done.”
Marley came over to see that Hunter had nearly filled the canvas with a lopsided sailboat, which was painted blue and green and red. All around the boat was blue with a small yellow sun, complete with sunrays, in the corner. “That’s beautiful,” Marley told her.
“Is it okay if I give it to Grandpa?”
“Of course. It’s yours to do with as you like. Do you want Grandpa to hang it in the gallery to sell?”
“No, I want him to hang it in his house. I’ll give it to him for his birthday.”
“When’s his birthday?”
“January fourth.”
“Wow, that’s coming right up.”
“I know.” Hunter nodded eagerly. “Sylvia is planning a surprise party for him. You’re coming, right?”
Marley didn’t know what to say—this was all news to her. “Uh, sure, I think so.”
Hunter turned and peered curiously at her. “Did you and Grandpa have a fight?”
“No, of course not.”
“Oh.”
“After the paint dries, you’ll have to sign your name on the bottom,” Marley told Hunter as she finished. “I have a special brush for that. Now let’s get these brushes and your hands cleaned up. Have you had lunch yet?”
Discovering they both were hungry and that her cupboards were bare, Marley asked Hunter if she wanted to go grocery shopping with her. Fortunately, Hunter was game. As they made their way through the grocery store, Marley learned through tidbits of conversation that Sylvia and Leah were becoming a big part of Jack’s and Hunter’s lives. Marley wasn’t particularly surprised by this, but she was dismayed and confused.
Marley rewarded Hunter for her help, which was truly helpful, by letting her buy a New Year’s Eve party pack, which was conveniently displayed right next to the check stand. Of course, the glittery hats and blowers and confetti seemed cheesy to Marley, but to Hunter they shouted of party and fun times.
“Can we have a New Year’s Eve party?” Hunter asked as Marley was driving back to the bungalow.
“Well, it is New Year’s Eve,” Marley conceded. She remembered the invitation to the party at Paul and Abby’s tonight. She’d planned on going, and Abby had told her that Jack was invited too. But thanks to her painting frenzy, she’d lost track of time. “We could have a New Year’s Eve lunch party,” Marley suggested.
“No, I mean a real party,” Hunter urged. “Where we stay up until midnight.”
“Oh?”
“Grandpa and Sylvia got invited to a real New Year’s Eve party tonight. And Leah is supposed to babysit me, but I heard her saying she doesn’t think that’s fair. Why don’t you and me have a party, Marley?”
Marley was torn in several directions—partly mad, partly hurt, and mostly indignant that Hunter was being treated as a castoff again. “Okay,” Marley declared. “You and me will have a party.”
“Yay!” Hunter clapped her hands. “What will we do?”
“Uh, I’m not sure. Make popcorn?”
“Yeah. And how about brownies?” Hunter had encouraged Marley to buy a brownie mix.
“Yes. Definitely brownies.”
And just like that, she and Hunter were planning their New Year’s Eve party—a party of two. And, hey, Marley consoled herself, it was a step up from the Christmas Eve pity party for one. Marley didn’t call Jack until nearly six.
“I was wondering when I’d hear from you,” Jack told her. “How’s it going?”
“Great.” Marley kept the upbeat tone in her voice. “Hunter and I are having a wonderful time. So great, in fact, that she’d like to spend the night here. Would that be okay?”
“Spend the night?” He sounded caught off guard.
“You don’t mind, do you? I promise to take good care of her.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that, Marley.” He cleared his throat. “But you do know that it’s New Year’s Eve, don’t you?”
“Oh, sure. In fact, we’re having our own little New Year’s Eve party.”
“Really?”
“Hunter explained that everyone else has plans, and I love the idea of a quiet little celebration at home.” She grinned at Hunter. “And there’s no one I’d rather ring in the New Year with than my little buddy here. Right, Hunter?”
“Right on!” Hunter shouted into the phone.
“So, unless you have any objections, I’ll keep Hunter until tomorrow.”
“No, no objections.”
“And you and Sylvia have a delightful evening, Jack. Happy New Year!” Unable to carry out her charade a second longer, she hung up. After that, she called Abby, explaining why she’d have to decline on her invitation.
“But we’re having fireworks,” Abby protested.
“Fireworks?”
Hunter, who’d been listening, started getting excited. “Fireworks?” she repeated hopefully.
“Paul’s going to shoot them out over the ocean, and Lucy’s going to be here too. Why don’t you bring Hunter over?”
“I guess we could do that if Hunter wants to.”
“And if you do come, maybe you won’t mind giving Mom a ride home? Nicole picked her up and brought her over to help, but she doesn’t have her own wheels.”
So it was that around ten o’clock, after Hunter and Marley did their own little celebration, complete with brownies and popcorn, blowers and hats, Hunter bagged up her party goodies (for her and Lucy to use again) and they bundled up and headed on over to Paul and Abby’s, where Lucy was thrilled to see that someone closer to her size had finally arrived.
Marley was only mildly surprised to see Jack and Sylvia at the party. But Jack looked shocked to see Marley, coming right over to her. “Is something wrong?” he asked with concern.
“Not at all,” she said lightly. “Abby enticed us to come over for the fireworks. As soon as that’s over, we’ll head back home.” And then she waved at Caroline, who was alone, excusing herself from Jack as if she had something urgent to discuss with Caroline. But when Caroline got a phone call that sounded like it was from Mitch, Marley moved on. She felt like she was spending all her time and energy trying to avoid Jack. Just as she joined Janie and Victor, asking about Lisa’s welfare, she wondered why she was going to so much trouble.
“She hasn’t bolted yet,” Janie told Marley. “And although she said she didn’t want to at first, she changed her mind and came with me tonight.”
“She didn’t know I was going to be here,” Victor said a bit sadly.
“She’s still keeping you at arm’s length?” Marley asked.
He nodded. “I’m sure she sees me as threat.”
“At least she likes Ben,” Janie said. “She and Nicole and Ben and some of the other young people just left for a walk on the beach.”
“That’s great.” Marley focused on Janie, still trying not to catch Jack’s eye, although she felt certain he was staring at her.
“Tomorrow, I’m driving Lisa down to Northern California,” Janie said.
“To the same rehab place that Ben’s friend raved about. I’m feeling hopeful.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“Don’t look now,” Janie said quietly, “but I think Jack is coming for you.”
“Hey, Jack.” Victor smiled. “How’s it going?”
“Okay.” Jack made some polite small talk then turned to Marley. “Do you think I could have a private word with you, Marley?”
She blinked. “A private word?”
He made an uneasy smile toward Janie and Victor. “Would you excuse us?” Then he took Marley by the arm. “Maybe we should go outside.”
“Okay.” She nodded, glancing over to where Sylvia was watching from a distance. Marley was curious as to how Sylvia would react to this, but perhaps she’d assume this was some kind of impromptu business meeting regarding Marley’s paintings. For all Marley knew, it was. But Marley stayed with Jack as he led her toward the front door and then out.
Once they were outside, Jack continued to walk. “I’ve left a number of messages for you, Marley … did you get them?” His voice sounded slightly strained.
Marley nodded nervously.
“I wanted to thank you in person for the chess set. It’s fabulous. And I’d actually been hoping I could entice you over for a game. But everything’s been so crazy and busy lately—and you’ve been so—”
“You’re welcome, Jack. I saw the set and thought of you.”
“I wanted to give you your Christmas present too, but you’ve been a little hard to reach.”
“Yes, I got your message, Jack.” Of course, when she heard that particular message on Christmas Day, she assumed that he’d run out and bought her something just to recompense her for his gift, and she was uninterested in a payback gift. If they were parting ways, they should do it quietly and without playing games.
“I’d actually been hoping to spend this evening with you, Marley.”
“Really?” She turned and looked curiously at him.
“You didn’t get that message?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure, unless I mistakenly deleted it.” She had gotten a bit careless in deleting messages from him. It seemed easier that way. There was a long pause as they continued walking down the darkened street, with only the sound of the nearby surf pounding and an occasional car to break the silence.
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