Such a fool, she cursed herself, her hands covering her face. All her expectations were nothing more than illusions. And the supposed rules . . . She dropped her hands with a grimace. What a farce! Was she supposed to write a thank-you note to Cal for the pittance he’d offered?
She gazed at the collection of antiques clustered under plastic in the living room. Yes, this house might be falling down around her ears. And yes, the furniture needed reupholstering. But this furniture, her china and silver—these were all treasured objects that held deep significance. They represented a continuance of family from one generation to the next. Why should she give them up now, when she needed them the most?
And besides, she wasn’t the one ending the marriage in the first place!
Emotional, my ass, she thought as she angrily walked to the kitchen. She grabbed the bag of takeout chicken she’d brought home and tore it open. The steamy, greasy deliciousness wafted into the air and made her mouth water. A wave of guilt swept over her as she pulled out a fried drumstick. Harper and Carson would have a fit if they saw her eating this. Dora shook the vision of their scolding faces from her head. Let them be angry. And damn the diet and her figure. She deserved a treat tonight. Closing her eyes, she bit into the high-calorie food and swallowed hard. Taking another bite, she didn’t enjoy the taste. Dora knew the food might fill her up for now, but it wouldn’t touch the real hunger gnawing inside of her.
She was only a few bites into her meal when the doorbell rang. Dora swung her head toward the front door and debated whether to answer it. With a yearning look at the side of mac and cheese, she put the drumstick on her plate with a resigned sigh. Dora never was one to let a doorbell or phone go unanswered. Dabbing at her mouth with a paper napkin, she hurried to the door.
The last person she expected to see was Cal.
Dora’s heart immediately commenced pounding and her hand unconsciously went to her hair. Cal had removed the bow tie and seersucker jacket he’d worn at the lawyer’s office. He stood in a relaxed pose in a white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, a bottle of wine in his hand and a sheepish half smile on his face.
“Cal! What on earth are you doing here?”
“I just thought I’d stop by. See how you were doing. After today, well . . . I thought we could talk a bit,” he said, hoisting the wine bottle as a peace offering.
Dora surveyed him coolly, despite her still-jackhammering heart. “You don’t think we talked enough this morning?”
Cal shook his head. “The lawyers did all the talking today. I thought maybe we deserved a chance, too.”
Dora could hardly believe her ears. Could she have misread him? She remained hesitant, her hand clenching the door handle.
“I don’t know if we should talk without our lawyers present,” she hedged.
“That’s what they tell us, while they charge us by the hour to let them do the talking for us. Dora, we both know it was plain ugly today.”
Dora only nodded.
“For all the ups and downs,” Cal continued, “we’ve always tried to be fair and sensible. Why stop now? Let’s you and me try to cut through the chaff and reach a meeting of the minds.” He laughed in a self-deprecating manner. “And save thousands of dollars in fees in the process. Besides,” he added, his smile slowly widening, “it’s been a long time since we talked.” When she still didn’t respond he added, “At least we can try. What do you say?”
Dora looked long and hard at her husband. Calhoun Tupper wasn’t a handsome man when she’d married him, but his once gawky appearance was aging well. Some men were lucky that way. His undeniable Southern charm was what had first caught her fancy. And he was working that charm now.
“I can’t help but wonder where we’d be now if you’d made that offer a year ago,” she said in a softer voice. “Even six months ago, instead of walking out this door.”
Cal had the grace to appear shamefaced. “Maybe you’re right.”
Dora studied the man standing before her. He appeared to be offering an olive branch and she wished she could believe him. He was still her husband, the father of her child. He was saying all the right words. But she’d been served a dish of humble pie at the lawyer’s office that was hard to swallow. Now her practical nature reared up and she kept up her guard. She swung wide the door and coolly ushered him into her house. Their house, she amended—at least until the judge deemed otherwise.
Following his familiar figure down the front hall toward the kitchen, Dora thought of the countless times he’d walked this path back into the kitchen when he returned home from work. He’d loosen his tie, drop his briefcase, give her a peck on the cheek, and turn to the fridge for a beer. Tonight he’d brought wine, she noticed. A drink she preferred. While Cal made himself at home opening the kitchen drawer for the bottle opener, Dora went to the fridge for the bag of green seedless grapes she had brought with her. While she rinsed the fruit at the sink, she watched Cal deftly turn the screw into the cork and remove it with a gentle pop.
They carried the wine and grapes to the dining room, where they shoved aside the plastic tarp to sit at the table. Night was falling and shadows played on the walls. Dora turned on a few table lamps. Soft yellow light flowed across the floors, but the mood was hardly one of romance or even reconciliation. It was strangely awkward. She took a seat, thinking how odd it was to be sitting with a man she’d lived with for so many years and feel as if they were strangers.
“The air-conditioning is out,” Cal said, stating the obvious.
“Yes. I’ll give the repairman a call tomorrow.”
“Let’s just pray the whole system doesn’t have to be replaced. It’s got to be over twenty years old now.” Cal didn’t need to say add it to the list, because they both knew the other was thinking the same thing. He leaned back against the chair and let his gaze wander the room. “Well, looks like the painters got started.”
“No surprises. Yet.”
“Good to see the roofers have gotten started, too.” When she nodded, he added, “You have to stay on top of them, hear? They’ll take forever if you let them, and we want the house to go on the market as soon as possible.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then there’s the garden,” he continued. “The real estate agent was clear it needs attention. It’s completely overrun. I don’t know why you started that butterfly garden. It’s all weeds now.”
“It was for Nate,” she replied, irked that he didn’t remember. “For his science lessons, remember?” Nate had been fascinated with the caterpillars. Monarchs, swallowtails, Gulf fritillaries—they’d brought them indoors and raised them, watching them go into chrysalis and later change into butterflies.
Cal snorted derisively. “It was an expensive lesson. It’s a jungle out there now. You let the whole thing go.”
“I don’t have any help here, Cal,” Dora said quietly.
“The real estate agent said you’ll have to do something to make it look better. Whatever is cheap. Hire someone to just mow it back.”
Dora clutched her glass and sipped her wine, saying nothing.
“How’s Nate been handling the racket of all the repairmen?”
She was glad he’d finally thought to inquire about their son. “He’s not here.”
This caught Cal by surprise. “Where is he?”
“Out at Sea Breeze with Mamaw. We’re staying there for the rest of the summer.”
“The entire summer?” he asked, incredulous. “When did you decide this?”
“Last month. I told you we were going.”
“For your grandmother’s birthday. Not for the summer.”
“Mamaw invited us”—she raised her fingers around the word “invited” to make quotation marks—“to stay for the whole summer. In fact,” she added with a short laugh, “Mamaw told us we had to stay the summer or we were out of the will.”
Dora held back a smile at seeing his stunned expression, remembering the same looks on her sisters’ faces when Mamaw had dropp
ed that bomb.
“The old battle-ax,” Cal said. “That’s pretty high-handed, if you ask me. Even for her. How did she figure you could all just pack up and go away for the summer like you did as little girls? Your sisters have jobs, and you . . . you have responsibilities here, to this house. What about all that’s going on here?” He waved his arm, indicating the work being done at the house. “You can’t leave now.”
Dora felt her spine stiffen at the audacity of his command. First he insulted her efforts with Nate, and now he was ordering her around? She recalled Mamaw’s admonition to channel the Muir spirit and lifted her chin.
“You forget, Cal. I can just up and go if I want to. I no longer need to consult you, or ask your permission. You’ve changed things between us.”
She paused, acknowledging his tightening lips and flushed face. His eyes looked as if they were about ready to explode, but he pulled himself together.
Cal cleared his throat. “Dora, be reasonable . . .”
“I am being reasonable,” she said with a forced smile, chafing under the implication that she was once again being emotional. She sat straighter in her chair and began to explain her decision, trying to keep her tone level.
“I thought this through carefully. It makes sense for me to stay with Nate at Sea Breeze while the work is being done here. The men will be working round the clock. Nate wouldn’t be able to tolerate the hammering, the strange smells, the heat. He’d also be spooked by having strangers around him all day. We’re lucky to have Sea Breeze to go to! Of course, you could stay at the house during the renovations. To keep an eye on things,” she added with a sweet smile. There, not the least bit emotional, she thought with smug pleasure.
Cal’s face tightened but he didn’t respond.
“Plus, I want to spend time with Mamaw and my sisters again. Mamaw intends to sell Sea Breeze. It’s our last chance to be together again.”
Cal’s gaze sharpened. “She’s selling Sea Breeze?”
Dora wasn’t surprised that this tidbit caught his attention. Sea Breeze was worth millions on today’s market. “Yes.”
“That should bring in a pretty penny.”
Dora merely shrugged. She could almost see the numbers rolling in his brain.
“I reckon I can see how you could decide to stay,” he said, considering. “You don’t have a job. Now don’t get your back up,” he added, raising his palms in an arresting gesture. “I meant a real job, at a place of business. What I don’t understand is how your sisters manage it. I mean, who can just up and leave for three months? Even for them . . .”
Cal had never had a high opinion of her half-sisters, though he barely knew them.
“Timing is everything, I guess. Carson’s TV series was canceled so she’s between jobs. She was all over the prospect of staying at Sea Breeze rent-free for the summer.”
“What’s she worried about? Don’t folks working in Hollywood get paid the world?”
“That was the big shocker. Carson doesn’t have any money. In fact, she’s flat broke.”
He released a short laugh of surprise ringing with satisfaction. Cal had always been sensitive to the fact that he wasn’t earning nearly as much as many of his childhood friends. Promotions and increases in salary rarely came his way.
“What about Hadley? Granted, she doesn’t have to work.”
“Her name is Harper,” Dora corrected him, annoyed by the error. True, they hadn’t been close with Harper all these years, but to not get her name right was flat-out ridiculous. “Don’t you remember how Daddy named each of us after a favorite Southern author?”
“That’s right,” he said in a drawl, as though remembering a joke. “Let’s see, that’s Harper Lee, Carson McCullers, and”—he indicated Dora with a gesture of mock gallantry—“Eudora Welty.” Cal picked a single grape from the cluster, then held it a moment between two fingers. “Parker Muir, the great author. Given that your father never published a book, it’s almost pathetic, isn’t it?” He popped the grape in his mouth.
Dora flushed at the sting of his words. “Not in the least,” she said, rising to her father’s defense. “I think it reflects his sense of culture—and a certain Southern charm.” She reached for her wineglass, needing to bolster her confidence.
Cal merely shrugged.
She could feel a subtle shift of emotion between them. A new tension bubbling under the surface.
“So, how’s Nate doing out at Sea Breeze?” he asked at length. “I’m surprised he let you leave him behind. No fireworks?”
She wanted to reply, If you’d bothered to call in the past few weeks you’d know. But wanting to continue taking the high road, she answered, “Well enough, under the circumstances.”
“Circumstances? I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long story.”
Cal sighed with impatience.
Dora decided to give him the short version. She knew his attention span was limited when it came to her family, even his son. “Nate fell head over heels in love with a dolphin at the dock. You know how he gets when he’s interested in something. He studied dolphins, talked incessantly about them, and spent a lot of time with Carson swimming in the Cove.” A smile blossomed as Dora remembered Nate’s face, so vibrant and alive in the water with the dolphin. “Oh, Cal, I wish you could’ve seen him swimming. He’s gotten so strong and tan. So handsome . . . He just loved it.”
“That’s a change. It’s always been a fight to get him into the water.”
“I know.” She paused, getting into the difficult part. “He also liked to catch fish to feed Delphine. That’s what caused the accident, you see. Luring the dolphin to the dock. She got horribly entangled in all that fishing line. Oh, Cal, it was awful . . .” Dora closed her eyes, remembering how the lines cut deep into the dolphin’s flesh each time she rose to catch a breath.
“Did it die?” he asked.
“Too soon to tell. Carson followed the dolphin to Florida, to the rehab center.” She shook her head. “I’m worried for Nate if she dies. Since the accident he’s been back in his room with those damn video games. He won’t go outdoors or swim in the Cove. I’m afraid he’s in one of his bad periods.”
“I never was much of a help during those spells,” Cal admitted.
“You could have tried,” Dora said pointedly.
To her surprise, Cal nodded. “I admit there are times I could have been a little more patient with him,” Cal said.
Dora was taken aback. Cal had never before acknowledged his poor treatment of Nate. “He’s only nine. You still have plenty of time to repair bridges.”
“That’s true.”
For a moment, Dora felt almost hopeful. Maybe there was a way they could still work this out, still be a family. They owed it to Nate to try. She was about to utter those words when Cal spoke again, his tone suddenly businesslike and strained, any hint of a remorseful father wiped clean.
“Anyways, Dora,” he said, his eyes focused on a point just over her shoulder, “that’s not what I’ve come to talk to you about.”
Dora felt her stomach rise to her throat and a burn blaze across her cheeks. Against her better judgment she’d let her guard down for a moment, thinking he might have changed. And she knew he was about to stomp all over that vulnerability.
“I see,” she said in a carefully measured voice. “What do you want to talk about?”
Now Cal was studying the wineglass as if it held the secrets of the universe. After a moment he folded his hands together on the table and met her gaze.
“I came to discuss an amicable divorce.”
“An amicable divorce?” she repeated, not comprehending the meaning of the phrase.
“Yes.” Cal leaned forward slightly and began to speak in a controlled and deliberate voice, as though he’d memorized each word. It frightened her more than if he’d shouted.
“You see, a divorce doesn’t have to be a free-for-all. You saw how much tension and anger was pent up in the lawyer’s o
ffice this morning. Divorce can be amicable if the divorcing couple communicates frankly about their needs and desires while resolving the issues they face.”
“The divorcing couple,” she repeated, incredulous and enraged by his pretentiousness, his distance. “Lord in heaven, Cal, you sound like you’re on some advertisement. The divorcing couple? There’s just you and me.”
Cal sat back, slightly insulted. “Right,” he said.
“Go on. I’m listening.”
He continued. “Basically, you and I will work out the details ourselves,” he said, dropping the officious tone. “Not the lawyers. If we ask the attorneys to resolve our issues, it can get nasty and our case can go on forever and cost a fortune in legal fees. Look at what happened today. Your lawyer was blindsiding my lawyer. It was getting contentious. The way I see it, we can make a settlement plan ourselves, have our lawyers look at it, and we can remain friends. I’d like that, wouldn’t you? It’d be better for Nate, too, don’t you think?”
Now that Cal had effectively burst her bubble of denial, Dora could listen to his words and hear the veneer he was spreading on thick. Her lawyer blindsiding? It had been just the opposite.
“I don’t think so, Cal,” she replied in an even tone. “I heard what you offered today. If that’s your idea of working things out, then you can take your settlement and stick it where the sun don’t shine.” She smiled sweetly.
Cal’s face colored. “So, you’re going there, are you?”
“I’m only continuing down the path you started us on.”
“I thought, well . . .” Cal sat back in his chair, slapping his palms on his thighs in a gesture of impatience. “I don’t know why I’d expect you to be reasonable.”
“You thought I’d just sit back and do whatever you told me to do, like I always did. Didn’t you? Good ol’ Dora. She’ll toe the line.” Dora jabbed her finger at him. “You left, Cal. You walked out that door, not only on me but on your son. I expected a man who did something like that would feel some guilt. I expected you to be generous. To be reasonable.” She laughed insultingly. “I saw how reasonable you were. Nate and I can’t live on what you offered!”
The Summer Wind (Lowcountry Summer) Page 3