by Olivia Miles
Kate clicked the collar around Henry’s furry neck and patted his head. “I know, little guy. Change is hard. But if you can do it, I can do it.”
Kate toed off her work shoes, slipped into flip-flops, and led Henry out the front door, where he happily lifted his leg to her beautiful hydrangea blooms, which had finally peaked last week. Still, she could only smile. Elizabeth had remarked more than once that Henry was spoiled rotten, to which Kate could only proudly agree, minus the rotten part, of course.
Henry deserved a life that was overflowing with love. Didn’t everyone?
She felt that little pang in her chest that had a way of creeping in at inappropriate times. For a while, her mother had tried to cheer her up by saying that she would find love again, she was still young, but she didn’t believe her mother, and under the circumstances, she didn’t want to talk about it, and now, months later, she still didn’t.
She flicked through the mail as she walked, shaking her head when she found not one but two letters for her neighbors tucked into her pile. The first was for old Mr. Sherman, who lived on the other side of Kate and who only appeared outside to mow his grass with an electric push mower that required an extension cord that Kate forever feared he would run over one of these days, and of course, to give Kate long, detailed reminders about the exact location of their property lines. Many an afternoon since moving into her home, Kate had stood next to her driveway, listening patiently as Mr. Sherman pointed to a random blade of grass on the completely indiscernible patch of green that separated their two homes from the front, while he motioned where this imaginary line divided the three-foot space. Kate mowed her own lawn with a bagless push mower she’d purchased at the hardware shop. She’d thought she was being neighborly by going all the way to his driveway, but then she realized that Mr. Sherman was territorial. The next time she’d taken great effort to stop halfway between her driveway and his, but the very next day, Mr. Sherman had mowed his lawn, leaving a pointed quarter-inch strip of tall blades between their homes. Clearly, sending a message.
Careful not to cross any more imaginary boundary lines, Kate tucked the envelope into his mailbox and darted in the opposite direction. The second envelope was for William. Perfect. Kate never minded an excuse to catch up with her friends, even if she’d be seeing Elizabeth in a short while anyway.
Their house was a Cape, like her own, but unlike hers, it had an addition on the back that allowed for a home office for Elizabeth’s interior design business and an extra bedroom above that would no doubt house their future children.
She and Jake had never discussed children. Red flag number two.
Kate walked up the flagstone steps and knocked on the paned window of the slate-blue front door rather than ring the bell. If Elizabeth was working, she would slip the envelope through the brass slot in their door.
Instead, it was William who appeared around the corner and quickened his pace to greet her at the door.
“Delivery,” she said, waving the envelope. “Not a last minute RSVP, I hope.” She could tell from the envelope that this was not the case. Every invitation had been accounted for. The extras were sitting in a box in her office. One or two would be used as keepsakes—she planned to make a scrapbook for Elizabeth and include one—and the rest would sadly be recycled, not that there were many. Still, it was good to have a few on hand, just in case.
Kate had set aside one for her sister Charlotte. Why, she didn’t know. Elizabeth and Charlotte had never been close, but the families were, and…Well, it was strange to think that Elizabeth was getting married and Charlotte wouldn’t be in attendance. But it was also a reminder of what she had done and why she was absent.
“I was just about to head into town to meet my brother,” William said, opening the door.
“I met him today,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “You resemble him.”
“Only in the physical sense,” William chided, and Kate felt a twinge of disappointment. It was probably true, from what Elizabeth had said and from what she had seen. Alec was busy, and a little self-centered, while William was charming, hospitable…perfect. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Hopefully we can catch up tonight if the party doesn’t get too rowdy.”
“My advice to you is no strippers, no gambling, and a full eight ounces of water before you go to bed,” she said.
William gave her a rueful look, much like the expression she’d seen on his brother’s face just a short while ago, she realized with a start. “Does any of that sound like something I’d want to do?”
Kate gave a small smile. “No.”
When she’d first met William, he seemed like most of the other guys who floated through Misty Point in the summers. Attractive, boarding school educated, pursuing big jobs in Boston or New York. She’d thought he was just like Jake. The four of them went out a few times, usually at the pub on the pier. They seemed like the ideal set of couples back then.
But William was nothing like Jake. And for her best friend’s sake, she was happy for that.
Later, William had admitted that he wasn’t surprised to find out about Charlotte and Jake. Maybe he’d seen something that Kate hadn’t. Or maybe he was just an excellent judge of character. He’d fallen in love with Elizabeth, after all.
“Trust me, all I want to do tonight is kick back with the guys, have a few beers, and probably drop into bed by eleven.”
That sounded heavenly. “I’ll promise to deliver Elizabeth by a reasonable hour then. Is she here?”
He pointed to the ceiling. “Upstairs getting ready. You want to go up?”
It was tempting, but not if she planned to change from her pencil skirt and work blouse. The Spanx were killing her, honestly, and she longed to roll them down and take a decent breath. She’d wear a sundress tonight. One with a forgiving cut and a flouncy skirt, even if she was starting to question whether she was getting a little too old for dresses like that. “Henry has a thing for dust ruffles,” she explained, sparking a laugh from William. “I don’t trust him not to lift his leg. I should be getting home soon anyway to get ready.”
“See you tomorrow night then?” William asked.
Of course. Her parents were hosting the couple for a celebratory dinner. She’d managed to block that out. Everything had changed in the past year, and she had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t living up to being the daughter she’d always been. She’d always been the straight-A student, the one to remember the Mother’s Day cards, to always set the table (and clear it), and once she was an adult, to call every Sunday, even though she often saw one of them throughout the week.
But after last summer she’d become withdrawn. She’d gone from shopping for wedding gowns with her mother to avoiding her phone calls. And wrestling with guilt.
She gave Henry’s leash a tug and decided to work out her anxiety instead of going straight home. She took their regular route, up over the hill where there was a slight view of the Misty Point Lighthouse, and then circling back down again, this time around a curved street that eventually led them back home.
She smiled to neighbors whose names Kate was starting to learn, and Henry happily chased a few bikes—a habit that Kate knew she would have to break soon, but bless him, he had such fun doing it!—and Kate was feeling nothing short of completely satisfied with her current circumstances when her blasted phone alarm had to go off, bringing her straight back to reality and everything that had brought her here.
Kate silenced the ringer with a frown and unlocked the back door. Henry wasted no time in scampering to his water bowl as soon as he was free from the leash, lapping eagerly as Kate dropped a few ice cubes into the bowl as a treat.
She set her phone down on the counter and contemplated it for a moment. She’d been feeling so much better lately, so much more at peace than she’d been in those first few horrible weeks and months after she’d been forced to call off her wedding, cancel the flowers and the venue, and go through the humiliating rounds of explaining to out-o
f-town guests why they needed to cancel their flight reservations, but there was no denying that memories still lingered, and going back to work, being reminded of weddings all the time was a trigger, as Wendy, her kind, white-haired therapist, liked to say.
As much as she liked Wendy, she also yearned for the day when she wouldn’t feel the need to visit her anymore. But as her alarm was quick to point out, she wasn’t there yet. And she had a scheduled appointment with Wendy in the morning, because Wendy was nice enough to offer Sunday morning hours to people like Kate, who couldn’t break away from work, or who were in therapy partially because of their jobs.
The phone began to ring again, and Kate went to silence the alarm, only to see the familiar name appear on the screen instead. All at once, her throat closed up and her heart sped up and she felt like she had just run a mile, even though she was standing perfectly still.
At her feet, Henry squeaked his favorite turtle-shaped toy between his feet, signaling for her to play, and Kate gritted her teeth and turned off the phone, making the ringer, the name, and everything it symbolized disappear from this perfect little life she had built for herself.
She bent to gently tease the toy from Henry’s mouth and then gave it a good hard toss through the doorway to the dining room, which still didn’t have a table, where Henry bounded in delight. And then, before she forgot, she turned back on her phone and called Wendy’s answering service to reschedule her appointment for tomorrow. It was last minute, and she might be charged, but right now the thought of sitting and rehashing the past was not what she wanted to do.
The call made, she picked up the plush turtle Henry had returned to her feet, happy to play, eager not to think about that missed call, or the others that had come before it.
Or the reason for why she couldn’t bring herself to talk to her only sister.
* * *
Charlotte disconnected the call before the voice mail recording came on and reached for the candy bar she’d bought at the corner shop on her latest walk around the block, just ten minutes ago. The flowers were popping up, lining window boxes and gathering at tree bases, but it was hard to enjoy the sights when you were running on two hours of interrupted sleep, and each excursion into the outdoors only made returning to this small basement apartment all the more disheartening.
To think she’d imagined, when she’d first run off to Boston all those months ago, that she’d be living some glamorous life, high above the Common in a penthouse, taking leisurely strolls with her baby and boyfriend.
Only Jake had never been her boyfriend, had he? Nope. He’d been her sister’s fiancé, and then he’d used her to end that. He made it clear when she announced her pregnancy that he wouldn’t be sticking around for it. Or for her.
He’d gone back to Boston, and fool that she was, she’d followed him here. If she was close by, she figured they could talk, work things out. After all, there was a baby to think about. But the phone calls she made to him went unanswered, and the one time she’d shown up at his office had been too horrible to ever relive. And after that, she’d stopped. Stopped wishing. Stopped hoping. Started regretting. And started fearing.
And now, months later, and that lonely pregnancy behind her, her baby was here. And she was still just as bad off as she’d been when she first left Misty Point.
She eyed her sleeping daughter as she peeled the paper back from the candy bar and sank her teeth into the sweet gooey filling, willing the baby not to feel her stare and wake up. Charlotte’s feet hurt, and she didn’t want to walk anymore, and besides, the sky was turning gray, and she’d detected a hint of moisture in the air on her last excursion. All she wanted to do was curl up on the couch and catch up on some much-needed sleep and block out all these stomach-churning thoughts that consumed her waking hours. So why was she calling her sister instead?
She must be delirious, she decided. This was what happened when you went for weeks with only a handful of hours of sleep here and there. You started calling people who didn’t want to hear from you, in a misguided attempt to connect with another adult.
Or maybe, she thought as she miserably bit into the last of the candy bar and chewed, you started thinking of everything that had brought you to this point, and you dared to think you could somehow undo it, or make amends.
Not that she’d undo having her sweet baby girl, she thought, smiling fondly at the little bundle sleeping soundly. She was still buckled in the five-point harness of her carrier, snapped into one of those foldable strollers she’d found at a church yard sale two weeks before Audrey was born. She’d gotten chatty with the woman selling it, eager for any tips from someone who’d reared three rambunctious boys and still managed to look fresh-faced and content with her life, fighting the twinge of jealousy that her life hadn’t taken such a traditional route, but was instead being taped and glued together piece by piece. The woman was all too happy to offer advice, and when she realized that Charlotte was on her own, the woman’s eyes had gone all crinkly and she had all but given her the stroller for free, only accepting a few dollars at Charlotte’s insistence. She’d thrown in the carrier for no extra charge. Apparently they wouldn’t let you leave the hospital without one.
She closed her eyes. She’d taken her baby home in a cab. Just the two of them. And the whole ride she’d wondered what Jake was doing at that exact moment, and if he’d even listened to the voice mail she’d left him that day before informing him that he had a beautiful baby girl.
She’d given him chance after chance. She’d never shut that door.
But he’d shut it for her. That day in the office. Like she was going to take a paternity test? Who did he think she was?
But that wasn’t the only reason she hadn’t taken it. No, she wasn’t that proud. Or stupid. No, the real reason was that she couldn’t imagine it would make any difference in the end, unless she wanted to fork over a ton of cash for a team of lawyers. And where was she going to come up with that? Playing the lottery?
She’d considered it. Especially when the jackpot was especially big.
Charlotte swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away from the stroller, blinking at the empty wrapper in her hand. Some people were kind and good. But not Jake. And maybe, according to Kate, not even her.
She balled the wrapper into her fist, but she didn’t dare cross the room to toss it in the bin. The floors creaked terribly, and Audrey’s lashes fluttered at the slightest hint of noise.
Instead, she set the wrapper to the side, on the end table she’d salvaged from a neighbor who was moving, and flipped open her laptop to review her notes for Monday morning’s interview. She hadn’t yet figured out what she’d do with Audrey, and the numerous phone calls she’d left for her “ex” had gone unanswered and unreturned. She stared at the screen, waiting for her temper to subside. There was no use crying or getting upset; it didn’t solve her current predicament, did it? She’d gotten herself into this situation fair and square, and this was why, all on her own, she would get herself on better ground.
She glanced over at her sleeping daughter. Make that get them both on better ground. Audrey deserved a wonderful life, and it was her responsibility to make that happen. Somehow…
Setting her laptop on the end table, she pulled herself up to a standing position and walked slowly across the room to the apartment’s only closet, careful to avoid the creaky spots in the floorboards. She surveyed her options with a dispassionate sigh, and finally plucked a boring, plain black maternity dress from its hanger, almost glad for a reason not to have lost all that baby weight. She wiggled into it, alarmed and depressed that it fit just fine, instead of hanging like a sack like it probably should have by now, six weeks after Audrey’s birth, and vowed to increase the speed on her daily walks and to stop eating pasta for dinner, even if noodles were one of the cheapest things she could buy and the money stretched for three meals.
She walked into the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror a former tenant h
ad nailed to the back of the door. She smoothed her long auburn hair and then pulled it back in a low ponytail. She hadn’t brought enough of her belongings with her to Boston—back in Misty Point, her parents’ house was filled with shoes and clothes (not that she could fit into them these days) and all sorts of other things, like proper furniture, and…laughter.
Her eyes began to well up when she thought of everything she’d left behind. Everything she’d lost. She couldn’t go back—not even for the clothes. When she’d left Misty Point, she’d left in defiance, and fear, and the horrible knowledge that she’d let down the two people she’d always tried to please the most: her parents.
She flicked off the light as the baby began to cry, no doubt hungry again, and blinked away the tears before they could fall.
She’d get back to Misty Point eventually. But she wouldn’t go back until she’d cleaned up her life. And then she’d show all of them, especially Kate, that she had changed.
It was the only hope she had of them welcoming her back.
Chapter Five
Alec was still reeling over the conversation he’d had with his father that afternoon as he sat in the loud, noisy pub a few hours later. It was hard enough knowing how bad things were at the Montgomery Group without his father calling to remind him every few hours. With a heavy sigh, he adjusted himself on the hard wooden pub chair and looked over to William, laughing with some friends Alec had never met, without a care in the world. Somehow all the problems that they’d once shared had become Alec’s burden alone. And unlike his brother, he wasn’t in a position to just walk away, as much as he wanted to half the time.