by Shirley Jump
Nora shook her head again. “My kids—”
“Bring them. My friend John has three, and my sister, who lives down the road, has two. It’s a kid-friendly barbecue and did I mention fun?”
Fun. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had any of that. Still, she should probably stay home and crunch some numbers or go through the classifieds to find an apartment. Instead of putting all that off. Again. “I’ll think about it.”
Will reached in his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a business card. “Here’s my cell. I just live over there”—he pointed to a periwinkle cottage on the corner—“but feel free to call me if you want some sandcastle-building tips.”
She laughed. “Is that also part of your job?”
“That and greeting all the beautiful women in our neighborhood.”
Beautiful women? Surely he didn’t mean her. She was a sweaty mess, with a slight belly from two kids and a butt that hadn’t seen a squat in years. The same shyness that had persisted in her high school years returned. It was Tommy’s basement all over again, and Nora’s nerves made her words stumble and her cheeks heat. “Uh…thank you.”
He flashed her another grin. “See you tonight. Around six. And don’t worry about bringing anything. We have more than enough food to feed the entire town.”
He turned to go. Nora stood there, in the middle of the street, stunned and confused. Had he just asked her out? Was it a date if they were in a group? And what about that flirting? The last person she’d flirted with had been Ben, and that was at least twelve years in the past. She should call after Will, tell him she was still married, say she couldn’t make the party. Instead, she said, “Thanks for the water!”
He turned, gave her a wave and a grin, and headed into his house. Nora stayed there a moment longer, feeling a strange mix of guilt and elation, and then jogged back to the beach house and all the responsibilities she’d been avoiding, the business card tucked in her sports bra.
SEVEN
Going to the barbecue only intensified the basement party déjà vu. She’d been out of the dating game for so long—not that she’d ever really played to begin with—that Will’s clear interest when he smiled at her from across the yard left her disjointed and confused.
Nora stood to the side of Will’s house, nursing a soda in a red Solo cup while the kids played in the yard. Jake had blended in with his new friends as seamlessly as pouring water into a pitcher, but Sarah lingered on the sidelines, talking to John’s daughter, who was a year or two older. Their dark heads were pressed close together as they whispered about whatever secrets third- and fourth-graders held.
Magpie hadn’t arrived yet. She’d told Nora she had a headache and needed to lie down for a moment. Her sister had looked pale, a little tired, and as much as Nora wanted a wingman to keep her nerves at bay, Nora had gotten her little sister a cool washcloth and a box of crackers and then headed down to Will’s with the kids, promising to be home early. She wouldn’t have gone at all, but Magpie had insisted.
That’s what she got for telling her sister about meeting Will. “You should go,” Magpie had said. “Have a few beers and some conversation that doesn’t revolve around pie crusts and potty training.”
In the end, it had been the kids who’d made the decision for her. Sarah had looked out the window, seen the other girl arrive at the house across the street, and for the first time since she’d arrived at the beach house, expressed interest in something other than her iPad. Maybe a night out would help erase Sarah’s distance and bring back the cheerful eight-year-old Nora missed so much.
Will strode over to her, a beer in one hand. He had on a fresh pair of jeans and a dark gray Grateful Dead T-shirt. His hair was a little long and shaggy, and with the beard, he had that air of rock band guitarist about him. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Neither was I.” Because if he was flirting and if this was some version of a date, then Nora was playing with fire.
Will leaned against the house beside her. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for her to be aware of him. It felt wrong, but intoxicating at the same time. “Then why did you?”
“I don’t know.” It was the first honest thing she’d said in a while. She was still married. Flirting with another man was wrong. Go-straight-to-hell wrong. She could almost hear the admonishments of Father McBride, the lecture after confession, his disappointment clear in the tense air of the tight wooden booth with the dark mesh screen separating her from the priest.
She could just imagine her mother’s pursed face, the judgment in her eyes. Ma had never remarried after her husband died, because she took the married-for-life part of her vows pretty damned seriously. Nora wondered if her mother had ever had moments of doubt, moments when she felt like she was married to a stranger, moments when she wanted to walk away. When the man who had pledged to be by her side forever abandoned her for a roulette wheel on the darkest day of her life.
“You’re overthinking it,” Will said. He pressed a finger to her forehead for a second. “I can tell by that little wrinkle in your brow.”
Damn. He’d touched her. A momentary contact, but still, it sent her thoughts into that same What-am-I-doing? spiral. “I overthink everything.”
He chuckled. “And I tend to not think at all before I leap. Maybe it’s the artist in me.”
Nora traced the condensation on her cup. “What’s that like? Not agonizing over every little decision?”
“Well, considering I’ve never been the agonizing type, I’m not sure my answer will help you. But I can tell you that I don’t worry about the small stuff, and I don’t have a bunch of medications lined up in my cabinet.”
“And you have the painting antidepressant.”
He grinned. “Works like a charm, every time. As soon as I put brush to canvas, my mind sinks into the colors, the shapes, the slight whoosh as the paint glides across the surface. I forget to eat; I forget to pay the bills; I forget the world exists outside my studio. Which is both good and bad.”
Nora knew that feeling well. How often had she used the work escape hatch from life? “I get that. I work in my family’s bakery with my sisters and my mother. I’m the head decorator, and when I’m decorating a really elaborate cake, an earthquake could open up beneath me and I wouldn’t notice. I get completely wrapped up in my work.”
“So you’re an artist too.”
“I don’t know if I’m an artist.” She shrugged, but inside she warmed at the compliment. “It’s just frosting.”
“Ah, but I would wager that your ‘just frosting’ creates elaborate flowers and lace patterns and intricate swirls. That’s art, dear Nora the Neighbor, in one of its most natural forms.”
The pet name had notes of endearment in it. Already, Will was too familiar, too close, too attractive.
“I’m married.” The words just blurted out of her, popping into the air like two overinflated balloons. “I’m sorry…I just thought you should know that.”
He studied her, a half-smile tugging on his lips. “Are you married-married, Nora the Neighbor, or just sorta married?”
She wasn’t sure. She’d asked Ben for a divorce but had not filed. They weren’t together right now, but they weren’t technically apart either. She was enjoying this stranger’s attention, maybe too much, but feeling guilty about even standing here. “What’s the difference?”
“Married-married means you’re with the love of your life, the man who fills every nook and cranny in your heart. Sorta married means you’re hanging in there, hoping it’s going to get better but knowing deep down inside that you’re going to leave someday.” He paused, took a sip of beer, and eyed her over the rim of the cup. “Maybe someday soon.”
Once upon a time, she’d thought Ben was the love of her life. His smile, his touch, had filled every part of her. Now she was holding on to that history by threads woven out of lies and mistakes. “It’s…complicated.”
“Ah,
the ambiguous blend of the two.” Will tossed his empty cup into a nearby trash can, laced his hands behind his back, and looked out at the yard. “Let me see if I can put it together. He used to be the love of your life but things have been rocky lately, and you’re on the fence about what you want.”
“Is it that obvious?” Was it disloyal to admit her marriage was on the rocks? Not to mention to admit that to another man?
“I get it. I went through a tough divorce myself a few years ago. And in case you were worried, all I really wanted was to invite you to my barbecue. It’s not a date, Nora. Just one neighbor having dinner with a bunch of other neighbors.”
“Good. Because I shouldn’t…It’s just all up in the air right now.” And either way, the last thing Nora needed in her life was one more person wanting anything from her. She couldn’t figure out where she was going to live or how she was going to break any of this news to the kids. If anything spelled wrong timing to think about another man, that did.
Plus, she did still love Ben, in a way. And they weren’t divorced and…
It was complicated. Complicated as hell.
Will held her gaze for a long time. He had nice eyes. Soft, kind, warm. “I know I don’t know you that well yet, but if you ask me, any man who lets a woman like you get away is a fool.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She sipped her beer and avoided speaking.
Then he pushed off from the house and gave her the friendly I’m just a neighbor grin. “Tell me, Nora…how do you take your burger?”
EIGHT
Thursday morning dawned dark and gloomy. A storm was moving in, and the wind started to kick up, catching the sand and peppering it against the glass. The kids were still sleeping, so Nora shrugged into sweatpants and a sweatshirt, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and poured herself a cup of coffee before she stepped out onto the back deck.
The wind whipped around her, nipping at her legs, chasing under her sleeves. Angry waves rolled through the ocean, crashing into each other in great foamy white explosions. Rain started to fall, coming at an angle with the wind, hitting the deck with a hard, fast patter. The droplets spattered Nora’s bare toes, the edges of her sweatpants.
She’d barely slept last night, dealing with a different storm, this one inside her head. The guilt over going to the barbecue when she should have been focused on finding a way out of this mess. Regret that she had let them end up in this situation in the first place, thinking she could juggle the bills and the creditors and somehow turn negatives into positive numbers. Guilt over how she had failed—her family, her children, herself. And most of all, a flood of deepening, impotent frustration.
Maybe if Nora had been honest that day with Ben, none of them would be here. Maybe he would have stayed home and everything would have been different. Maybe she would have been standing at a barbecue with his soft brown eyes staring into hers, instead of a stranger’s. And maybe she wouldn’t be thinking right now how easy it would be to start over again with another man, instead of trying to fix the mess with the man who had let her down one too many times.
Magpie came outside, bundled in a rain jacket, her hands cupped around a mug. A bolt of lightning cracked overhead, and Magpie flinched. “Trying to get yourself electrocuted?”
“I’ve always loved storms. They’re just so…unexpected.”
“And dangerous and unpredictable. Everything you aren’t, right?” Her little sister laughed.
“Maybe it’s everything I wish I had been,” Nora said softly. A woman who was dangerous and unpredictable would have flirted back last night instead of taking her burger to go and heading home thirty minutes after she’d arrived. A woman who was like a storm wouldn’t have let her home slip away. She would have moved heaven and earth until the bank came back with a workable solution. A woman like that wouldn’t have been caught unawares by her husband’s gambling and the shambles her marriage had become, and she sure as hell wouldn’t have painted a pretty picture over the ugly truth.
Nora took a sip of coffee and watched a forgotten beach ball tumble down the shoreline, the bright colors rolling over each other like a runaway rainbow. “Did you ever wonder what might have been if you took a different path?”
“You know me, I don’t second-guess anything. I just dive in and save my regrets for retirement.”
Nora couldn’t even imagine living like that. But Magpie had none of the ropes that tied Nora to that whirling circle of worries and decisions. A house, a husband, kids. Responsibilities—like keeping children clothed, warm, and fed, not to mention teaching them to be considerate people—loomed over Nora every minute of the day. Even here, standing on the deck while the storm raged around her, a part of her mind worried about Sarah and Jake. Were they awake now? Scared by the noise? Would they be disappointed to have their beach day canceled? Was she giving them too little of her time? Of her heart? Would they one day grow up and look at her with anger and disappointment in their eyes? How could you let us lose our house, Mom?
“Are you wishing you had a do-over?” her sister asked.
“No, no, of course not.” Nora took one last look at the storm and then turned back to the house. She pulled open the thick glass deck door. “My life is what it is. I wouldn’t change any of it.”
Except that was another lie. The dishonesty was stacking up like bricks between her and Magpie. Nora hated that, but she’d always protected her baby sister. Magpie had enough to worry about, and besides, how could she possibly understand the stress of being a wife, a parent, and a soon-to-be-ex-homeowner?
Nora had kept so many secrets so close to her chest for so long, she wasn’t even sure where to begin. Lies she’d told her family. Her husband. Herself. Better to not burden Magpie with things that were beyond her control. It was a vacation, and Nora was determined to keep it that way for the kids and for her sister.
They went inside. Nora poured a second cup of coffee, and Magpie hung up her jacket. Then she curled into one of the kitchen chairs, her knees up to her chest. “I know you say everything’s fine, but it might not hurt to step out of your comfort zone a little.”
“I step out of my comfort zone once in a while. I did it when I went to that barbecue at a perfect stranger’s house. And there was that time I quit working at the bakery, in solidarity with Bridget.” Nora sprinkled some sugar into her coffee, added a dash of cream. She watched the white liquid swirl into the dark brew and felt a little pang of regret that she’d left Bridget, Abby, and Ma in charge of the bakery. None of the cake orders required complicated decorating jobs, but still, she should have been there. Maybe she should go back early—
Except that meant dealing with that whole where-to-live question sooner. In this little beach house, she had a reprieve from all that. She could pretend her life wasn’t totally screwed up and that she didn’t feel a constant panic in her chest.
“Those are great things but not exactly life-changing. I love you, Nora, but you’ve always been so…uptight,” Magpie said. “Such a stickler for the rules. Even here, you get up at the same time, go to bed at the same time. The kids have the same routine every night—”
“Schedules are good for kids. It helps them know their world is predictable.” Except being homeless negated all of that predictability. Her world was about to turn upside down, and everything her children had known all their lives would be ripped away.
“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve run every part of your life by a watch. Maybe it’s time you did something else. Like throw your watch into the ocean—well, not really, because it isn’t good for the fish—but symbolically. You are on vacation, after all.” Magpie leaned forward, her eyes bright with mischief. It was a look Nora knew well because it usually meant Magpie was going to propose something Nora wasn’t going to like. “Why not take a vacation from your worries too?”
“What is this, a Bill Murray movie? I can’t do that, Mags. I have kids. I can’t just abandon all my responsibilities.” And because all a va
cation from her worries did was put off decisions that had to be made. She’d done that when she’d gone to the barbecue, and all it had done was give her a sleepless night and a mountain of guilt. She needed to get back on track, needed to find a solution. Ben sure as hell wasn’t going to do it, which put all the responsibility of finding four affordable walls in Nora’s hands.
“You can abandon all that while I’m here,” her sister said. “I’m fully capable of feeding my niece and nephew and getting them to bed on time.”
Nora snorted. “You. Temporary mom.”
Magpie dropped her gaze and whisked a forgotten crumb off the table. “I may not look or act it, but I’m more domesticated than you think.”
“I’m sure you are, but, sweetie, cooking dinner? I love you, but seriously, you could ruin a bowl of cereal.” Of the four girls, Magpie had been the only one who never wanted a baby doll or played with Barbies. She didn’t set up house or pretend to make dinner in the cardboard boxes the girls had fashioned into a fake kitchen. Magpie had been the one exploring creeks and climbing trees and writing in her journal. No one had been surprised she grew up and wanted nothing to do with the bakery.
“Okay, so I can’t cook,” Magpie said. “That particular gene seems to have skipped me. But I am fabulous at ordering takeout and being the cool aunt who lets them watch Frozen six hundred and seventy-two times. Which means you can go vacate.”
There was a reason Nora had twenty-two vacation days saved up. The best time to take a few days off never seemed to coincide with the kids’ or Ben’s schedules. When spring break rolled around, the bakery was overrun with orders for Easter and spring baptisms and weddings. When summer break came, she was knee deep in family reunions, corporate picnics, and meetings with fall brides. The thought of a day without a schedule, without a plan, nearly made her hyperventilate. Magpie was right, though. Even here, on “vacation,” Nora had kept to a schedule with bedtimes and reading time and meals. “It’s been so long since I had a day with nothing to do that I don’t know what I’d do,” Nora said. “As it is, I’m already itching to get back to work. I shouldn’t have left the bakery shorthanded. There’s the Collins wedding and—”