by Delia Parr
“Like Ed Miller did?”
Andrea chuckled. She had dated Ed Miller for all of two weeks before realizing he was more interested in having a maid or housekeeper than a wife. “I haven’t thought of him in years.”
“Little wonder. What about Duane Allen?”
“Derek,” Andrea corrected, popping the half brownie into her mouth and savoring the taste of chocolate.
Jenny shrugged. “Duane, Derek, whatever. He didn’t last very long, either.”
Andrea swallowed her brownie and took a sip of punch. “I didn’t find it endearing to have my date suggest, on the third date, mind you, that I could remodel my home to accommodate his collection of Sinatra memorabilia and I could fit a new three-car garage on my property to house the antique cars he was going to restore with part of my salary. After we were married, of course.”
Jenny gasped. “He didn’t!”
“Did you ever ride by Linda Sullivan’s house? I mean, before she married Derek and became Linda Allen? She didn’t have a three-car garage when she started to date him.”
Jenny held up her hand. “Okay. You’re right. Point taken. There are a lot of frogs out there.” She paused to cover a yawn with the back of her hand. “Tell me about Robert St. Helen. You dated him for what? Two years? Madge was absolutely convinced you were going to marry him.”
Andrea stiffened. She had never told anyone why she had suddenly stopped dating Robert, even after he moved away from Welleswood. “Two years, three months and sixteen days. Then he hit me for the first and last time.”
Jenny grabbed Andrea’s arm. “He hit you? He hit you? Robert?”
“Charming men aren’t always quite as charming as they appear. They’re not all like Michael or Russell,” Andrea whispered. At the time, the pain of disappointment had been far deeper than the pain of the bruise he had inflicted, but even now, the memory of the dreams he had destroyed in a single burst of anger was very real. “Being alone isn’t being lonely. It’s just being alone. Considering some of the possible alternatives, I think I’m better off that way,” she whispered, wondering whether she was trying harder to convince Jenny or herself.
Chapter Twelve
The only businesses open on Sunday afternoon in Welleswood were the restaurants. A cloud of international aromas from a Mexican, French, Italian, Chinese, Thai and two traditional American restaurants hung together in the warm humid air and mingled with the gentler scent of potted summer flowers that added the vibrant color of summer to the avenue.
From her seat in La Casita, Madge could see pedestrians strolling along the new brick-and-concrete sidewalks, but there was little automobile traffic today. Groups of seniors had gathered to sit on benches beneath the shade of trees also gnarled and wrinkled with age. Surrounded by her sisters, and with her husband at her side, Madge was utterly and completely content for the first time in weeks.
She leaned closer to Russell as he tapped the side of his water glass with the tip of his spoon to get everyone’s attention. Then he started to lift his glass.
“Another toast?” she teased.
He smiled. “Just one more.” He held up his glass. “To sand and sea and beach homes.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but before she could say a word, he pressed a finger to her lips and continued. “As of last Friday, I’ve been named Regional Sales Manager for the Mid-Atlantic Region, which means that tomorrow, you and I are driving down to Sea Gate to pick out that summer beach house you’ve always wanted.”
“Russell!” She threw her arms around his neck and barely heard the congratulations everyone offered to them both. “I’m so proud of you. Regional Sales Manager! Do you mean it? Can we really afford a place at the beach?”
He hugged her with one arm. “We can now, although I’m not sure how much time I’ll be able to spend there. Not for a while yet. I’ll still have to travel a lot, but Drew and Brett will probably find their way home more often if we have a beach house.”
Madge settled back and gazed at her sisters. “You’ll come and spend some time with me at the beach, too, won’t you? Katy and Hannah would love it. We’ll teach them how to swim and use a belly-board, how to build sand castles—”
“And how to dig for sand crabs?” Andrea teased.
Madge felt her cheeks warm. “Did you have to mention the sand crabs?”
Jenny looked from Andrea to Madge, back to Andrea again, and furrowed her brow. “Is this another story about something I’m too young to remember?”
Andrea laughed. “Yep.”
Michael looked at Russell and shook his head. “Sounds like we’re about to hear another sister story. Go ahead, Andrea.”
“No, this is my story, too,” Madge argued. She tilted up her chin. “Once upon a time, when there was just Mother and Daddy and the ‘big three,’” she began with a wink in Jenny’s direction, “before we started camping as a family, we used to go on vacation for a week or two—”
“Usually two,” Andrea noted.
“In Sea Gate,” Madge continued. “Mother and Daddy would rent a house right on the beach. Anyway, the year I was four—”
“And I was six,” Andrea interjected.
Madge sighed.
Andrea held up her hand in mock surrender. “Okay. Tell it by yourself. I just don’t want you to take all the blame. We were in it together, remember?”
Madge grinned. “Every detail, and since you were the oldest, you should take most of the blame. One year, Andrea and I decided we were going to take some sand crabs home, so the last day of vacation, while Daddy was loading the car and Mother was sweeping the sand out of the house one more time, Andrea and I sneaked down to the shoreline. Sandra was just a baby,” she explained. “We dug up a dozen or so sand crabs, hid them in a big peanut butter jar we had taken out of the trash, added some sand and ocean water and sneaked it home.”
She paused when the waitress returned with the dessert tray Russell had ordered, waited until she left and waved away dessert to continue her story. “Daddy’s birthday was the following day, you see, and we wanted to give him a special present. He had a small aquarium he kept in his office at home.”
Jenny shook her head. “I don’t remember him ever having an aquarium.”
Andrea giggled. “He didn’t have one for very long.”
Russell looked at Madge with anticipated dread. “Was it a salt-water aquarium?” When she shook her head, he groaned. “I know where this story is headed.”
She laughed with him. “As soon as we got home, we sneaked into his office and dumped everything into the aquarium—sand, ocean water, sand crabs and even a little peanut butter went in, too.”
Jenny cupped her hand at her brow and groaned. “I can’t ever tell my girls this story, especially if we get an aquarium. What did Daddy do?”
Andrea held up her hand, and Madge sat back to let her older sister finish the story. “He didn’t do anything. Not then. He didn’t know what we’d done until his birthday the next day. Right after breakfast, we made him go into his office. We were so excited and so sure he’d be pleased with our present.”
Michael grimaced. “Did anything survive?”
“Only the sand crabs,” Andrea replied. “When I look back now, I wonder at Daddy’s patience. He didn’t yell. He didn’t threaten. He just listened to our explanation, told us he understood our good intentions—”
“And then he punished us,” Madge murmured, and fidgeted in her seat.
“A good solid spanking?” Russell asked.
“No, Daddy never spanked any of us,” Jenny offered. “At least, not the little two.”
Andrea smiled. “Not the big three, either.”
Madge nodded. “I think I might have forgotten a spanking, but I’ll never, ever forget how he carried that aquarium out to the backyard, set it on the ground, and helped us take out every one of those dead tropical fish. One by one, he’d tell us the species and lay the fish on the ground so we could see how beautiful it was.”
“He made us kneel down and pray, right then and there to ask God’s forgiveness for destroying His creatures, even though we didn’t kill them on purpose,” Andrea continued. “We buried them together in a little grave, and Daddy glued a couple of Popsicle sticks together to make a little cross.”
“What happened to the sand crabs?” Michael asked.
“They only lived for a few more days. When they died, we repeated the little ritual and buried them alongside the fish,” Madge explained.
Andrea yawned. “And that’s the end of the sand-crab story. Unfortunately, there are many, many more stories in which I led my little sister astray.”
Madge studied her older sister, noted the dark circles under her eyes and her pale features, and tapped the tabletop with her fingertips. “You’re exhausted. Maybe we should save the other stories for next time. Right now, I think it would be a good idea for Russell and me to take you home.” To her surprise, Andrea offered no argument.
Within half an hour, Andrea was home in bed and Madge was on her way home with Russell. “Were you really serious about going to the shore tomorrow? What about work?”
He chuckled. “I’m the Regional Sales Manager now. I can take a few days off.”
“A few days?”
“I talked to Dan Myers at the social today. He slipped the keys to his house in Sea Gate right off his key ring and said we could stay a week if we wanted to. I’m not sure, but I might be able to stretch out a few more days off.”
She sighed. “I have a meeting for the Shawl Ministry on Wednesday I really can’t miss. Thursday I promised to take Andrea for chemo, which reminds me. I have to call her and find out what time she has her appointment. Friday I have a nail appointment, then I’m getting my hair touched up. We could stay Monday and Tuesday, though. No problem.”
Disappointment flashed briefly in Russell’s eyes before he offered Madge a grin that made her heart flutter. “Monday and Tuesday will be great. I really shouldn’t take off more than that, I guess. I talked to Blair Whitaker at Shore Realty last week. We were fraternity brothers, remember? Anyway, he’s got several places lined up for us to see tomorrow. The market is loaded right now, and he thinks we might even be able to settle before the end of summer.”
She gasped. “You—you set up appointments with a realtor before I even said I wanted a beach house?”
He cocked a brow. “Madge, we’ve been married for twenty-six years. I can’t remember when you didn’t want a beach house. Of course, if you’ve changed your mind….”
“No!” She said the word so abruptly she laughed out loud. “I’d love a beach house, and if we could get one before Labor Day…”
Her thoughts drifted to fall. By then, Andrea might need a place to rest between treatments, and there was no place as peaceful and quiet as the seashore after the season had ended and all the vacationers had gone home.
“We could be at the shore in an hour. How about heading down tonight? We can take a walk on the beach, watch the sun set and be ready to look at houses first thing in the morning,” he suggested.
She hesitated, but she was reluctant to disappoint him again and smiled. “Just give me half an hour to change and pack.”
He pulled into their driveway, turned off the ignition and kissed her. “Make it fifteen minutes and you’ve got a deal.”
Chapter Thirteen
The following afternoon, Madge stood with both hands on the railing of a second-floor balcony off the master bedroom in a beachfront home in Sea Gate while Russell went back downstairs with Blair to inspect the heating and air-conditioning systems. On the beach below, sunbathers stretched out side by side and head to toe, creating a patchwork of color. Lifeguards with their noses coated white with zinc oxide perched on stands to protect the swimmers and keep rafters and surfers in their restricted areas. Scents from tropical tanning oils, citrus lotions and sunblock blended with the salt air. Overhead, seagulls cried and swooped down for prey in the water or an unguarded snack on shore while majestic osprey glided on wind currents.
Madge closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun to let a cooling sea breeze caress her features. With her lips, she murmured a prayer, asking God to clear any obstacles that might block their purchase of this house. With her heart, she embraced the memories of her loved ones, especially Sandra, who had loved the beach almost as much as Madge did.
She blinked back tears and cupped her hand to her brow to cut the glare of the relentless sun. In the far distance near the horizon, a freighter of some sort, probably out of Philadelphia, was heading north. Closer, dozens of sailboats and catamarans danced atop the blue-gray waters of the Atlantic. A motorboat pulling a parasail hugged the shoreline just beyond the swimming limits.
Madge had not ventured deeper into the ocean than mid-thigh for forty years, and she had no desire to change her habits now. She was not tempted to leave shore. Not even for half a heartbeat. Until she glanced up at the person strapped into the harness hanging below the red-and-white-striped parasail. She tried to imagine what the view might be like from that height. If the parasail broke free and soared above one of the few clouds in the sky, would she be close enough to heaven to get a glimpse or sink straight back to earth and wind up suspended in the ocean by a life jacket?
She fingered the gold chain around her neck as one of her dangling earrings brushed her neck. “I’d sink for sure. I’d rather stick with my beach chair, thank you,” she whispered. When she heard footsteps, she turned and saw Russell approaching her with a smile, but Blair was not with him. “Everything looks good from my end. The two-car garage will give us off-street parking, and there are outside showers to help keep the sand out of the house. How about you? What do you think of the place?”
She grinned. “The view is amazing, and the house is beyond everything I’ve ever dreamed about. Where’s Blair?” she asked, reluctant to appear overanxious about buying the house.
“He had to leave for another appointment. I told him we’d take another walk-through and lock up when we left. If we decide this really is the one we want, I can call him later. I’ve got his cell-phone number.”
She left the balcony and met him inside the master bedroom. Together, they revisited the three other bedrooms, each with adjoining baths. “There’s plenty of room for the grandchildren, if Drew and Brett ever settle down and give us some. In the meantime, I hope the boys can come for a visit. If not, Michael and Jenny and the girls will come. Andrea, too.”
They went up a six-step staircase to the family room in the loft that featured yet another balcony facing the ocean. “I could set up an office here in this alcove. There’s room for a desk and my laptop,” Russell suggested.
Madge grinned. “Our laptop. I’ll need to keep tabs on what’s happening at home.” She led him back down the staircase, along a hallway past a laundry room, and up another mini-staircase to a great room. An island separated the kitchen from the living room, replete with cathedral ceilings, a gas fireplace, and a wall of windows that provided a breathtaking view of the ocean, as well as a wraparound balcony. In her mind’s eyes, Madge envisioned the glory of the sun peaking over the horizon at daybreak and a wide beam of moonlight stretching from the water to the sky at night.
She placed her hand over her heart. “Are you sure we can afford this?”
Russell put his arm around her shoulders. “That’s why banks created home-equity loans,” he teased. “The house in Welleswood has been paid off for a few years now. Between what we can borrow against the house and the bonuses I’ve been setting aside, we can not only afford the house, but we can also furnish it. Within reason,” he cautioned.
“Within reason,” she murmured, but her mind was already racing ahead, planning a color scheme and listing the stores and shops she would use to make her plans become reality.
He cleared his throat. “There’s only one little glitch.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“If they accept our offer, we can’t settle unti
l the day before Labor Day, which isn’t really a problem for me. With starting the new position, I’ve got a number of commitments that have to be met in August. In fact, I’ll probably be away the entire month.”
She smiled. “They say September at the shore is wonderful. It’s still warm outside and so is the ocean, but the vacationers are gone.”
He reached into his pocket and frowned. “I guess I left my cell phone back at Dave’s. Let’s grab a bite to eat first, then we’ll head back to the house to get my phone. I can call Blair from there.”
“I don’t think so.” She opened her purse, took out her cell phone and handed it to him. “Ask Blair to meet us at his office so we can put in our offer before we grab lunch.”
The following morning, Madge and Russell left the real estate office with a signed contract, a settlement date of just before Labor Day and an appointment scheduled for that very afternoon at the bank back in Welleswood to arrange for the home-equity loan.
“Things are happening so fast, I’m almost dizzy. I don’t know how you can keep all those dates and figures straight. You’re amazing,” she remarked as she got into the car.
He waited until she had secured her seat belt before closing the door and getting behind the wheel. “Some of us have a head for figures. Some of us don’t,” he teased as he guided the car into traffic. “That’s why I handle all the bills, remember?”
She patted his arm. “And you do a marvelous job. You always have. I’m lucky I don’t have the worries that Andrea has had to carry every since Peter died, or to have to make a choice between supporting my husband’s dream or staying home with my children like Jenny has had to do.”
“She and Michael seem very happy,” he suggested as they reached the Garden State Parkway entrance and headed north.
“I suppose they are, but with the new baby coming in February, it will be even harder for her to work.”