Summer at Seaside Cove

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  Jamie’s mom nodded. “Me, too. The kitchen is always where I’ve done my best thinking. Except when it came to helping Jamie with her high school math homework. I remember us suffering through trigonometry problems in between baking batches of cookies.”

  “I remember you weren’t much help in the sine, cosine, tangent departments,” Jamie teased.

  Her mom laughed. “No kidding. About all I could do was commiserate with you and keep your glass of milk refilled. I was fine helping with the math when you were younger, but all that algebra and trig—yikes. I barely squeaked through it when I was in high school. Who knew triangles could be so complicated?”

  “We’d always have to wait for Daddy to come home from the restaurant to help me.”

  “And the two of you would eat your way through the entire batch of cookies while figuring out those problems and equations.” A faraway look came into her mother’s eyes. “I’ve never known anyone who loved cookies more than your dad.” Her expression cleared and she smiled at Jamie. “Except you, of course.”

  “No doubt about it, I inherited the cookie chromosome.” She looked at Laurel. “Dad passed it on to you as well.”

  “Oh, yes,” agreed Laurel. “I could eat cookies for every meal.”

  “And you passed it on to me,” chimed in Heather.

  “You also inherited Dad’s height,” Jamie grumbled, glancing at Laurel. “Cookies don’t show on you like they do on me.”

  “The hell they don’t. I’m eight years older than you, and let me tell you, that metabolism peters out after thirty.”

  “And just wait until you’re over forty,” chimed in Jamie’s mom.

  “So you’re both saying I need to eat my cookies now,” Jamie said.

  “Exactly,” her mom and Laurel said in unison.

  Jamie looked at Heather. “You, too, I guess.”

  Heather giggled. “Okay. Twist my arm.”

  Laurel cleared her throat and looked at Jamie. “I … I like talking with you about Dad. It’s hard to do with other people because they clearly don’t know what to say. It’s uncomfortable for them to discuss someone who died, which I guess is understandable.”

  Jamie nodded. “I know what you mean. I’ll occasionally mention Dad during conversations with acquaintances, but it’s usually just a casual ‘oh, yeah, I visited that museum once with my dad,’ or ‘my mom and dad and I used to do that, too,’ sort of comment. But those people didn’t know him. Didn’t love him. Didn’t know how special he was.”

  “I like talking about him, too,” Jamie’s mom added quietly. “Remembering things he said and did, the way he’d throw back his head and laugh.”

  “God, he had the greatest laugh,” Jamie said, adding another splash of olive oil into the pan as an image of her handsome father flashed in her mind. “No matter how crappy a day I might be having, Dad could always get me to laugh with him.”

  “That laugh, along with his beautiful smile, are what first attracted me to him,” said her mom. “One smile and pow! I was a goner.”

  An image of Nick and his pow! smile flashed through Jamie’s mind. “That smile … it was Dad’s superpower,” she murmured.

  “You mean like the way Superman could fly? Hmmm … I never thought of it that way, but yes, that’s a good description.” Her mom stepped between her and Laurel, and after a brief hesitation, put an arm around each of them. “I see that smile in each of you.” She looked at Heather. “And in Heather, too.”

  Jamie’s heart swelled, with the bone-deep love she felt for her mom, along with a nudge of guilt as well for the way she’d stomped off the previous evening. Clearly her mother was trying, and, for the first time Jamie could recall, was stepping up and acting as the problem solver—a responsibility that always fell on Jamie’s shoulders. Maybe her mom had taken the words she’d said last night to heart.

  Jamie’s mom gave them each a squeeze, then casually took the wooden spoon from Jamie and stirred the sauce. “Do you girls remember the time your dad took us canoeing?”

  “Remember?” Jamie asked. “We’re lucky we lived to tell the tale. A canoe person Daddy was not.”

  “What happened?” asked Heather.

  “It was during the summer,” said Laurel. “I used to spend the entire month of July with your Grandpa Tom, Maggie, and Jamie every year. This particular summer I think I was fifteen—”

  “You were, because I was seven,” broke in Jamie.

  “Right. Dad rented a canoe, tied it to the roof of the car, and drove us out to Long Island.”

  “You sulked the entire way because you said canoeing was ‘hard work,’ ” Jamie told Laurel, laughing at the memory.

  Laurel hiked a brow. “And was I right?”

  A shudder ran through Jamie. “God, yes.”

  “I’ll never forget the look on Tom’s face the first time the canoe tipped over and he ended up in the water,” Jamie’s mom said, chuckling.

  “And the second, third, and fourth times,” Jamie added.

  They continued with the cooking, adding more meatballs to the pan, then making the lasagna by layering the noodles, sauce, and cheese, all the while reminiscing, one story leading without pause into the next.

  “Remember the time Dad brought us to Coney Island?”

  “How about that tent he made for us by covering the dining room table with a huge sheet, then telling us ghost stories when it got dark?”

  “Or the time he taught us how to make s’mores in the fireplace—”

  “When he took us horseback riding in Central Park—”

  “Skating at Rockefeller Center—”

  “Body surfing at Jones Beach—”

  “The Staten Island ferry—”

  “Statue of Liberty—”

  By the time the meatballs were cooked and the lasagna out of the oven, Jamie felt as if she’d relived her most precious memories of her childhood and her father.

  “I haven’t laughed this much in a very long time,” Laurel said, untying her apron.

  “Me, either,” Jamie agreed. An even longer time since she’d laughed so much with her sister. Or her mother.

  “It was great hearing all those stories about Grandpa,” Heather said. She looked at all of them, then spread her arms. “Family hug!”

  Jamie hesitated briefly, then put her arms out as well. Her mother and Laurel did the same. They formed a tight circle and gave a collective hug.

  “Cooking really does bring people together,” Jamie’s mom said.

  Everyone murmured their agreement. Jamie shared a little hip bump with Heather, who stood on her right, then looked at her mother, who stood across from her in their tight little circle. Her mother gave her a watery smile and mouthed, “I love you.” Tears pushed behind Jamie’s eyes and she mouthed, “Love you, too,” in return. She then turned her head to the left and looked at Laurel.

  Their eyes met and Jamie saw that Laurel’s swam with tears. And it hit Jamie that her sister had indeed undergone some sort of transformation.

  With her gaze steady on Jamie’s, Laurel said, “This has been a very good day.”

  Jamie nodded. Things were far from perfect, but yes, it had indeed been a good day.

  Chapter 27

  “Want to take a walk down the beach?” Laurel asked.

  Jamie’s hands stilled at her task of gathering the extra plastic cutlery and plates that remained after the very successful potluck dinner, which was still in full swing but had moved to the bonfire pit, where kids and adults alike roasted marshmallows. She knew Laurel’s question meant more than a simple walk—it was really her way of asking Do you want to talk? Try to settle our differences?

  Leaving Jamie to answer the question, Do I want to do that?

  She could say no. Could hold on to her hurt and resentment. Part of her wanted to. Felt justified in doing so. Who needed a sister who’d betrayed her like that? I’m right, she’s wrong, the end.

  But another part of her wanted to hear what this seemingl
y new and improved Laurel had to say. And then tell Laurel exactly what she thought of what she’d done. Without worrying about Heather or anyone else overhearing.

  “Sure,” she said, setting down the bag of cutlery on the folding table where the mountains of now consumed food had been set up. “A walk sounds good.”

  She scanned the group surrounding the bonfire, noting Heather laughing with Grace’s kids; her mother laughing and sitting next to Alex, their heads bent close together; Dorothy chatting with Melvin, who appeared to be … smiling?—nah, must be a trick of the fading light—and Nick, who’d just chuckled at something Dorothy said. Just looking at him kicked Jamie’s pulse into high gear, and anticipation filled her at the thought of spending another night in his bed.

  As if he felt the weight of her regard, his gaze shifted and locked with hers. And for several seconds everything faded away … the people and their conversations, the crackle of the fire, the splash of the waves breaking on the shore, leaving Jamie feeling as if only the two of them stood on the beach, intimately connected in spite of the thirty-some-odd feet separating them. Heat flared in his eyes, spreading warmth right down to her toes and setting fire to all her girly parts. Jeez—what the man could do to her with a single look was nothing short of ridiculous.

  She blinked to break the spell, then inclined her head slightly toward Laurel, who stood beside her. Nick’s gaze flicked to her sister, then back to Jamie. She waved her hand to indicate herself and Laurel then used her fingers to pantomime walking. He nodded his understanding, then gave her a look that said without words that he wished her luck and would be here when she returned. Then she turned to Laurel and, hoping the tension knotting her stomach didn’t show, said, “Let’s go.”

  They walked to where the breaking waves washed up on the wet sand, then headed toward the pier.

  “The potluck dinner was a huge success,” Laurel said. “Everyone loved the lasagna and meatballs. There’s not one scrap left over.” She rested a hand on her enviably flat stomach. “I can’t believe I ate so much.”

  Clearly Laurel wanted to ease into the subject that stood between them like a big steaming pile of manure, so Jamie played along. “Me, either. Be comforted by the fact that what I ate is going to hang around on my ass a lot longer than what you ate will hang on yours.” So unfair!

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. I had six desserts—and that’s on top of the heaping plate of food I downed. I just couldn’t choose— they all looked so good.” She turned to look out toward the water. “This place is really nice.”

  Jamie nodded. “I have to admit I was pretty horrified when I first arrived.” She briefly described the condition of Paradise Lost that first night.

  Laurel laughed. “Wow. I give you credit for staying. I would have been in a cab on my way back to the airport.”

  “Believe me, it crossed my mind. The new furniture made a big difference. And now so many things that were completely alien to me a month and a half ago—like clam festivals and neighbors who stop by just to chat and bring you a casserole—are among my favorite things about Seaside Cove.”

  Silence swelled between them, one Jamie didn’t feel inclined to break. Laurel had asked for this walk, so she’d wait for her sister to take the lead. Finally Laurel said, “I’m glad you found this place, Jamie. But I’m sorry, so incredibly sorry my actions are what drove you away.”

  Laurel paused and drew Jamie to a stop by briefly touching her arm. “There are things I want, need to say to you. If you give me the chance to do so, I promise I’ll then listen to anything you wish to say to me. Deal?”

  Jamie’s heart thudded hard and fast. There was no doubt in her mind that whatever happened next would define the future—if there even was to be one—of her relationship with her sister. She nodded. “Deal.”

  Laurel drew a deep breath, then turned to continue slowly walking, and Jamie fell into step beside her.

  “Growing up, there was a part of me that loved you,” Laurel said, “loved you so much it hurt. Missed you when we weren’t together. Yearned for those two weekends a month when I’d stay with you, Daddy, and Maggie. Counted the days until July when we’d be together for an entire month.

  “But then there was another part of me that was so jealous of you. You were small and cute while I was too tall and gangly. You looked like Dad, while I got stuck with my mother’s fair coloring. You got to be with Dad all the time. Your apartment was lively and relaxed, casual and filled with laughter, while the Fifth Avenue penthouse we moved into after my mom married Martin was sterile and perfect and quiet as a tomb. You got to have all the fun. I loved sharing that with you when I was there, yet hated that you got to continue enjoying it after I left.”

  She paused and tucked behind her ear several strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “Not only did I envy you having Dad all the time, I envied you Maggie—or at least I did once I stopped looking at her as the reason my parents would never get back together. She was so much fun—always laughing, always happy, irreverent, naughty, warm, and so generous with her hugs and kisses. My mother, as you know, is not the warm fuzzy type. For a long time I resented Dad for divorcing her, but as I grew older I finally understood why. She’s like a gorgeous piece of artwork—beautiful to look at, but remote and untouchable. The total opposite of Maggie. When at last I realized just how incompatible Dad and my mother were, I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d married her in the first place. I asked him once and do you know what he said?”

  Jamie shook her head. “No.”

  “He said he couldn’t help himself. He was young and impetuous, and she was so beautiful, he’d just lost his heart. But after eight unhappy years he finally realized she’d never really wanted his heart and had never given him hers and that they’d both be better off apart. As you know, a few months after the divorce was final, he met Maggie and fell head over heels in love—but with your mom his love was returned.”

  “You have to admit—they were great together,” Jamie said softly.

  “The best,” Laurel agreed. “They had the sort of relationship everyone wants. When my mother married Martin, I suddenly had every material possession any kid could want. I certainly had more than you. Yet you were who I wanted to be. I wanted your house. Your mom. Our dad. Yet as much as I wanted it, as I became a teenager, I grew resentful of the time I had to spend with you. I was older and had my own friends. I came to love the luxurious lifestyle that came with the Westerly name and didn’t like hanging with my kid sister who still played with Barbie dolls. Yet, I couldn’t let go of Dad. I loved him. And so it went.

  “I didn’t need to work at Newman’s, but I wanted to stay connected to him. And Maggie. And to you as well. I loved you, but I guess there was that small part of me that still resented you. That somehow just always felt you’d taken something that should have belonged to me. I thought it had gone away, that I’d grown out of it. But then came Raymond.”

  The name seemed to hang in the sea-scented air, a heavy dark cloud that wedged itself between them. “I’d run into him at various functions here and there,” Laurel continued, “and always had a bit of a thing for him. He was everything I looked for in a man—handsome, wealthy, charming—but the timing was never right. Either I was with someone or he was. Still, I’d given him my card and told him to stop by Newman’s sometime. And then one night I saw him there. Sitting at the bar. Alone. I was thrilled and excited. I joined him and over drinks he told me that he’d been in twice the previous week for dinner, both times on nights I wasn’t there. And that he’d met you. Just then you came over to the bar. Greeted me with a smile—and Raymond with a kiss. And I realized he wasn’t there to see me.”

  Laurel bent down to scoop up a small shell and Jamie forced herself to remain silent, to not say the words that rushed into her throat. Yes, he was there to see me. And you didn’t care. You wanted him so you took him. Her inner voice whispered, But she couldn’t have taken him if he hadn’t wanted to be taken. Jamie f
rowned and shoved the voice aside.

  “Raymond and I ran in the same circles, and over the next several months, we bumped into each other at least a dozen times. Each time we saw each other, he grew progressively … flirtier, I guess is the best word, and I grew more and more attracted. At one particular party he grabbed my hand and led me off to a private room. I knew what he wanted. I wanted it, too. But before I let him pull me into that room, I asked him if he was still seeing you.”

  She paused and clasped Jamie’s hand to halt her. Jamie stopped walking but pulled her hand away. When she looked at Laurel, she saw her blue eyes were bright with tears. “He said no. That he’d ended things with you. That he was free. I won’t lie to you, Jamie—I can’t swear I wouldn’t have gone into that room with him even if he’d said you were still together. I was already halfway in love with him and I honestly don’t know what I would have done. But when he said he was free, there was no decision to make.”

  All the hurt and betrayal Jamie had spent the summer trying to put into perspective and move past came roaring back. “We hadn’t broken up,” she said in a cold, clipped voice. “We may have had an argument—I don’t know. I don’t remember. But there’d been no breakup, or even talk of one.”

  “I didn’t know, Jamie. I swear I didn’t know.”

  The fury Jamie thought she’d buried struck her like a lash. “Maybe you didn’t know that night—I’ll give you that, even though I still think it’s really shitty that you’d take up with a guy you knew at the very least I’d been dating twenty-four hours earlier. If you’d been even the tiniest bit concerned about my feelings, you would have at least discussed it with me first. But you didn’t. And what about after that night, Laurel? What about for the next two months when you were sneaking around behind my back? You knew damn well we were still seeing each other all that time.”

  Jamie fisted her hands and forced herself to take slow, deep breaths to try to stem the rage welling up inside her. Her heart was pounding and her knees were shaking.

  Laurel’s face paled but she didn’t look away. “I didn’t know that first night, which turned into an entire weekend, but I found out on Monday when I saw you at Newman’s. You mentioned you were seeing Raymond that night and I realized he’d lied to me. I was shocked. And hurt. And absolutely furious. I left work and confronted him. He apologized profusely. Said as far as he was concerned, you’d broken up. And that he’d make it clear to you that you were through. He told me he loved me. And wanted to be with me. I stupidly believed him. Because I’d foolishly fallen in love with him. And desperately wanted to be with him.”