To one side by the table, Nina spotted Michael in conversation with a tall woman in a grey dress printed with orangey flowers. As Nina watched, the woman gave him an impish smile and rested her hand on his arm. Michael glanced in
Nina’s direction, beaming with recognition. Taking the woman by the elbow, he escorted her across the floor.
“Good to see you, Nina. You look very nice.” His voice was deep and melodious, his eyes appreciative as he looked at her. He turned to the woman. “Cindy, meet Nina. She’s Brian’s new neighbor, just arrived from France. Nina, meet Cindy, my ex-wife.”
Cindy scrutinized Nina from head to foot. Her light grey eyes—with hooded lids painted green behind lashes heavy with mascara—not missing a detail.
“Nice to meet you, Nina,” she said in a smoker’s husky voice.
Cindy was heavy set with broad shoulders and stocky legs. Her hair, dyed copper, was shoulder length with a fringe, and the light makeup didn’t quite hide her freckles. The coloring spoke of Irish ancestry, Nina assumed. With her good bone structure and fine complexion Cindy was a good-looking woman.
Nina was surprised to find herself face to face with Cindy. She was due in town any day, Nina knew, but no one had said she would be present at the barbecue. Nina’s first reaction was to make an excuse and return to the security of her own home. Pride and good manners wouldn’t allow it; she would tough it out. She wished somebody had thought to tell her, but evidently nobody imagined Cindy would make her feel ill at ease in ways Nina couldn’t identify.
Samantha returned to the lanai, carrying a vase with the roses Nina had brought. “Why don’t you introduce Nina to everyone, while I get the salads and rolls,” she said to Michael.
“Yes, sure.” He smiled at Cindy and took Nina’s arm. Together they approached a group of four people. Clearing his throat, he said, “Nina, meet Chris, my youngest.” Michael motioned with his hand. “Peter’s my middle son. He’s the tallest of the three and has hands like shovels.” Michael chuckled. “Chris, Peter, I’d like you to meet Nina Brochard. She recently moved here from France and lives across the street.”
Chris took Nina’s hand. His eyes were as blue as Michael’s, both had the same open, frank look. “I couldn’t wait to meet you. Dad has said nice things about you.” He patted her hand.
The blond young woman next to Chris smiled. “Hi, I’m Linda, Chris’s wife.”
“Hi, Linda. Nice to meet you.”
Peter seemed reserved. His eyes, the lids drooping at the corners, gave him a guarded and withdrawn look.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said. “Chris is right, Dad’s been talking about the French lady.”
Nina laughed at his use of the expression “French lady.” It sounded almost exotic the way he said it. What had Michael told them? All this attention made her feel self-conscious. With a furtive gesture she dried her moist hands on her slacks, stretching her neck to ease the tension. She turned to the other blond woman. “Hi, you must be Peter’s wife.”
“Yes. I’m Allyson, but everybody calls me Ally.” Her Southern accent made Nina imagine lavish mansions, magnolias and swaying crinoline skirts.
Both Linda and Ally were young and slim with even tans that made Nina think of hours on the tennis court.
During introductions Brian busied himself by the barbecue, basting and turning pieces of meat. Every now and then Nina saw him glance at the group. He caught her attention and beckoned for her to come closer. “Glad you made it. How’s the ankle?”
“The ankle’s a bad memory. I can put weight on it, and I can drive again.”
He raised the lid of the grill, and she got a whiff of the food. “Mmm, smells delicious. Felt it in the air the minute I arrived. Sorry I don’t eat meat.” She leaned against the wall. “Your brothers and sisters-in-law seem very nice.”
“They are. So are their kids.”
She smiled and turned her head to watch the boys laughing and shouting in the pool. “I’ll meet them when they’re through playing.”
Brian chortled. “Wait till the food is ready—they’ll be out of there and into the grub faster than you can imagine.” He basted a rack of ribs. “I saw Dad introduced you and Mom.”
“Yes, we met. I was surprised to see her, didn’t know she’d arrived.”
“Dad met her at the airport last night and drove her here. I was going to fetch her, but work got in the way. I thought he told you.”
Oh, so that explained Michael’s phone call and “busy evening!” She wondered why he felt the need to tell her he was busy, but not to mention meeting Cindy. Had she bothered to look out the window last night she would have noticed his car in Brian’s driveway, but she’d been watching TV, not neighbors’ houses.
“No,” she said to Brian. “What made you think he’d tell me?”
Brian’s face registered mild surprise. “I thought you were friends.”
“Of course we’re friends, but Michael doesn’t have to account for his every movement to me.” She glanced at Brian, caught his eye and smiled to cancel any terseness in her voice.
Nothing more was said on the subject, as Samantha returned, laden with bowls of chips and salad that she placed on a table next to Brian. “How much longer until the meat is done?”
He glanced at the meat sizzling on the barbeque. “Another fifteen minutes or so. Why don’t you get Nina a drink?”
Nina held up her hand. “Please. I’ll get it.” From the table next to the salads, she dropped a few ice-cubes in a glass and was about to fill it with water, when she heard Michael’s voice next to her. “Here, let me.” He filled the glass, added a slice of lime and handed her the drink. “Cheers,” he said, clinking his beer can against her glass, smiling his warm, kind smile.
Nina glanced at him. “I like your sons and daughters-in-law.”
“I’m pleased. You made quite an impression on them.”
“Any of them a doctor like you?”
“No, doctoring didn’t attract them. Brian, as you know, is an engineer. Chris is an optometrist, and Peter is a teacher.”
“And their wives, Linda and Ally?”
“Linda’s an instructor at a fitness center, and Ally a pre-school teacher.”
“They’re both so tanned I thought they were stay-at-home moms, spending their days on the tennis courts and by the pool.” She tittered. “Serves me right for jumping to conclusions.”
“Appearances can be misleading.” His smile was warm.
“Lunch is ready. Help yourselves before it gets cold.” Brian raised his voice to be heard, and as he’d said, in a flash the boys were out of the pool. Wrapped in beach towels, shivering from staying in the water too long, their lips purple, they disappeared into the house. When they returned a few minutes later, all three were dressed alike in knee-length denim shorts and T-shirts.
Chris shouted over the din for the boys to come say hello to Nina. They came running, glanced at Chris, then turned to Nina when Chris introduced his son Steve, twelve years old and tall for his age. The boy nodded in Nina’s direction and glanced at his cousins, Jon and Kevin, who were Peter and Ally’s sons. Nina got the same distracted nods of acknowledgement from both. She smiled and waved, letting them get to the food.
While Nina was helping herself to some salad, Michael approached her with his plate heaped with food. He nodded at two vacant chairs at the end of the table. “Let’s sit over there.”
When everybody was served and started eating, Nina enjoyed observing the interaction between these people. Three generations, and they all seemed to mesh. A nice family. Cindy sat in the middle of the long side of the table, Chris on her right side and next to Nina. Brian sat on Cindy’s left.
On Nina’s other side at the end of the table Michael was beaming, very obviously the proud father and grandfather. Nina had grown accu
stomed to considering him her friend, her special male friend. “Grandfather” added a dimension to him she needed to get used to.
The talk and laughter grew quiet. Nina looked around; everybody was busy eating.
Next to her Chris raised his glass. “Cheers, Nina. Having a good time?”
She touched her glass of ice water to his. “A very good time. I didn’t know Brian had all these brothers and nephews.”
“It’s true what I said, that I’ve never met anybody from France. I hope I didn’t embarrass you?”
“I don’t embarrass easily.”
“How come your English is so good?”
“My father was American, so I learned English early. And I did all my university studies here in the States.”
Michael moved closer to her, his arm on the table touching Nina’s. “I didn’t know you studied in the U.S. What was your major?”
“I took philosophy, sociology and majored in psychology.”
“Did you graduate?” Chris asked.
“Yes. I did my graduate work in Baltimore and got my doctorate in psychology.” She smiled and held up her hand. “That’s it.”
Chris looked at her, a mischievous grin on his face. “No wonder Dad keeps talking about you. You’re almost colleagues.”
Beside her Michael laughed quietly. “Your Dad knew nothing about this; Nina’s very close-mouthed.”
“Perhaps you didn’t ask the right questions,” Brian said.
Overcome by self-consciousness, Nina squirmed on her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs under the table.
Cindy’s pale eyes shifted from one person to the other. She put down her fork, leaned forward and spoke past Chris, directly at Nina. “When are you going back to France?”
Nina was startled by the question. Smiling, she shook her head. “But I’m not going back. I live here permanently now.”
“Oh, so you’re not one of those snowbirds, here for only the winter months?”
“No. Consider me a songbird—I arrived with the spring.”
Nina’s answer triggered laughter from those who heard it.
Cindy had more on her mind. “You obviously must like it here, or you wouldn’t want to stay. Me, I hate the heat and the bugs, can’t wait to get back north.”
“Yes, I like it here; I love the heat.”
Nina looked at the others. Everybody had more or less finished eating. Before they could ask another question she stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Crossing the lanai and going into the house, she found the bathroom. Locking the door, she slumped against it and took a deep breath. Michael’s family was nice and their fascination with her being a foreigner amusing, but also a bit overwhelming. She washed her hands and splashed cool water against flushed cheeks. Tugging at unruly strands of hair she tried not to think about Cindy. Was it her imagination that Cindy had been deprecating?
On her return to the lanai, Nina crossed the living room. When she saw Michael sitting on his haunches in front of Kevin, seated in an easy chair, she hesitated. Reluctant to disturb their special moment together, she sat on the edge of a stool to wait them out.
Michael talked to his grandson in soft, soothing tones. Only a murmur reached Nina, but she detected a genuine tenderness. He held Kevin’s hands, eyes unwavering on his grandson’s face. She was touched by something soft and gentle in Michael’s presence, in his attentiveness to the boy. He took Kevin’s face between his own two hands in a gesture so loving and delicate it brought tears to her eyes.
Like a gaping hole inside, loneliness overwhelmed her. She hungered to be held, needy to love and be loved. The scene she witnessed awoke cravings she had tried so hard to ignore through years in a loveless marriage.
When Kevin got off the chair Michael held him in his arms in an affectionate hug.
They left, and Nina remained on the stool, deeply moved by the scene and more than a little disturbed by her emotional vulnerability. Pushing away the intrusive thoughts, she stood and joined the others. After a cup of decaf she excused herself, thanked Brian and Samantha and went looking for her cardigan. Michael touched her arm. “Are you leaving?”
“Yes. It’s getting late, and my fingers are itching to write.”
Suddenly he stood still, eyes half closed. He grabbed her hand. “Listen, Nina.”
She heard it—the lovely, haunting melody of “Nights in White Satin,” played from hidden loudspeakers. “Yes,” she said. “It’s wonderful music.”
“I love the majestic beauty of this ballad, and the lyrics are great. It’s one of my favorites.”
Together they listened for a moment. He let go of her hand. “Mind if I accompany you? I’d like to take a look at the pool deck, probably put down the second layer.”
“Sure, come along. If you don’t mind my working.”
As they crossed the street together, she looked at him, as if she’d never seen him before. He sounded different. He looked different. She definitely felt different about him.
Chapter 16
Nina leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Michael study the cloudless sky then the pool deck. A brilliant sun had replaced the menacing weather from before, the wind only a mild breeze.
“I didn’t know you were meeting Cindy at the airport last night,” she said.
He turned to face her, a slight furrow between his eyebrows. “It was a last minute thing—when I called you I’d just heard from Brian. He planned to bring her from the airport, but something came up and he asked me to do it.” He tried to take her hand, but she gently disengaged herself and walked to the window.
Sighing, she turned to glance at him. “I wish I’d known she was going to be at the barbecue today.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“It was more of a family gathering than I was prepared for.” She struggled to control the quiver in her voice. “I felt a bit out of place. Cindy naturally belongs in your family, and I don’t—I’m an outsider.”
He opened eyes wide. “I’m surprised. Why would you feel an outsider?”
She wanted to explain. For an instant embarrassment like a grey cloud befuddled her thinking. Her mind cleared and she decided that honesty was her best approach, trusting Michael’s generosity not to judge her.
So she told him that she felt insecure, adrift without her family.
“I don’t regret the decisions I’ve made,” she said. “But it’s harder than I thought; I didn’t imagine I’d feel so lonely and sad. You’ve been wonderful to me, so kind and considerate. Cindy’s arrival made me realize that you have obligations to your family, which will limit your time—I can’t expect you to be available ….” She let the sentence trail, afraid she’d already said too much. Maybe he would think she was clinging and intrusive.
He reached for her hand, and this time she left it in his. “Dear Nina, living here alone, in a foreign country, away from your loved ones, must be tough for you. I don’t want you to feel excluded. We’re a close family, but I’d like to think we’re also generous. You’re welcome to join us any time, you hear?”
She smiled with trembling lips. “Thank you, Michael. It’s good to know.” I need to be vigilant not to become too dependent on him.
Her moment of honesty stretched and she gave a mental nod of acknowledgement; she envied Cindy her place with her own loved ones.
Michael smiled that smile she couldn’t resist. “I’m sorry, Nina,” he said again. “Naturally, I should have told you that Cindy would be present today.” He held out his hand. “Friends?”
Without hesitation she put her hand in his. “Friends,” she said.
He patted her arm. “Good, I’m glad.”
He glanced through the glass door at the lanai. “The sun’s shining, looks like the weather should hold. I can put down a second c
oat of paint.”
Her eyes wandered over his marine blue slacks with sharp creases and off-white short-sleeved shirt. “Are you sure? On a Sunday? What about your clothes?”
“I don’t mind Sunday, and I keep a set of work clothes at Brian’s. I’ll be right back.” He left, returning minutes later dressed in his paint-stained overalls and checkered shirt.
While he worked, Nina relaxed in the loveseat, glad to have a moment to herself. Before leaving France, she’d withdrawn from people, busy with winding down her counseling service and tying up lose ends both professionally and privately. She’d avoided colleagues and friends, dreading questions about why she was leaving André and France, embarrassed of the answers she would have to give. She saw her close friends only once—during the farewell dinner they gave for her. She had kept to herself, needing to regroup, find her bearings. But Sophie was right when she said isolation wasn’t healthy. Today, after only a few hours in the company of a handful of people, Nina was tired, feeling that most of it had been an effort, when it should have been fun. That it was a family gathering accentuated her aloneness and added to the stress.
She shrugged to shake off the gloomy thoughts, went into the office and turned on the computer.
While she wrote she occasionally glanced through the window, watching Michael paint. An ordinary thing, but it made her smile. She was glad he was there.
Nina opened the lanai door from the office. “Can I get you something to drink?” Proposing it as so often before. “Aren’t you thirsty?”
He glanced at his watch. “Thanks, not right now. I’ll be finished in a little while.”
“I’m here if you need anything,” she said, closing the door against the heat and humidity.
On impulse Nina dialed Lillian’s number. While the connection went through she worried at the thought of talking to her daughter; her pulse quickened, palms grew wet with perspiration.
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