Then I got the scissors and took care of those eyebrows.
That evening, Brianna, Sloane and I walked to the green for the auction, which was the crowning event of the weekend. Gillian was there, zipping around like a gerbil on speed, flitting to my mom every thirty seconds. I chatted with some of the women I’d met at Juliet’s party—Emma London, Beth, Jamilah Finlay with the cute little boys. There were Jules and Oliver, holding hands. They had such a good thing going, those two. I was glad for my sister. Ollie got on my nerves from time to time, but honestly, if his greatest flaw was smiling too much, then he was pretty damn great. The girls cantered over to them.
“Hang out with us,” Jules said.
“Nah. I’m feeling melancholy and want to brood,” I said.
“You’re so weird,” Brianna said.
“Takes one to know one,” I said, and she grinned. “See you guys later.”
I found a spot under a tree where I could watch the auction. Some of the big-ticket items were grotesque, thanks to Stoningham’s summer people trying to outdo each other. It was a good cause—college scholarships for low-income families—so God bless, but even so. A week at our ten-bedroom house in Jackson Hole, butler included! Starting bid $2,500. Dinner with Lin-Manuel Miranda after a Hamilton show! Starting bid $5,000. (I would totally bid on that one, had I any money to spare, but I really wanted a new roof.) Design for an addition on your house, courtesy of Frost/Alexander Architecture, starting bid $7,500.
I hadn’t been asked to donate anything. The truth was, it would be embarrassing to offer up a painting that my sister would pity-buy.
“Hey, Sadie! Do you teach painting?” came a voice. It was Emma London.
“I do,” I said. “You interested?”
“Oh, God, no. I mean, I’ve been kicked out of those paint and drink nights, you know? Stick figures is the best I can do.” She smiled. “I was thinking of lessons for a little friend of mine. She’s four and a little wild.”
“Sure. I could do that. I used to teach elementary school art.”
“Cool! Thanks, Sadie. Hey, there’s my guy. The father of your potential student, Miller Finlay. Do you know him?”
Of course I did. Miller owned Finlay Construction, and Noah had done an internship with him in high school. We did the two degrees of separation Stoningham thrived on, and then they wandered off. Nice couple.
Bidding was pretty hot and heavy. Dinner with Lin-Manuel went for sixteen grand. Jeez.
Then I saw Noah. He was carrying a painting.
My painting.
The clouds I’d given him for Valentine’s Day so long ago.
He set it on an easel and stepped back, and my chest felt sliced open.
The auctioneer looked at his notes. “Next up, folks, something that’s not listed in your program. A Sadie Frost original oil painting. Very pretty. Sadie’s the daughter of our first selectman, I believe. She works as a . . . a teacher, is that right? An art teacher! Great. Let’s start the bidding at . . . a hundred dollars? A hundred dollars, can I have a hundred dollars, thank you, sir. A hundred and fifty, fifty, can I see a hundred and fifty, thank you, ma’am, two hundred, two hundred.”
Noah was selling my painting. No. He was giving it away. He was tossing it. He was . . . shit, he was ditching it, because what was that phrase? It didn’t spark joy.
He’d kept it all these years. He’d broken up with his fiancée over it, and now he was essentially throwing it in the junk pile, for a couple of hundred dollars, no less.
I got up to leave, tears blurring my vision. Jesus. Why not just burn down my house or stab me in the throat? At least that would’ve been a little less public.
“Three hundred, three hundred, thank you, can I have four? Four, please?”
“Where are you going?” Mom asked, suddenly at my side.
“I’m . . . gonna see Dad.”
“That’s your painting, honey!”
“I know.”
“You have to stay. Don’t be silly, flouncing off.” She took my hand, anchoring me to the spot.
“Four fifty, four hundred and fifty, thank you, ma’am.”
Noah was still standing at the front, just off to the side of my painting, staring right at me.
Something was happening. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what, but that red flare was burning in my heart, and his dark eyes didn’t leave me.
“One thousand, please, one thousand,” the auctioneer said. “Thank you, sir, very nice, can I have fifteen hundred?”
“I wish I could bid on it, sweetheart. It’s so pretty,” Mom said.
“That’s okay, Mom,” I said. But it was a nice thought. Maybe the first time she’d sincerely praised my work without telling me how impractical it was.
“Two thousand, two thousand to the gentleman in the blue shirt. Do I hear three, three thousand, three, thank you, going to four now . . .”
People—strangers, even—were bidding on my painting. Bidding quite a lot. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. That was Noah’s painting. Noah’s.
“This is so cool!” Juliet had come over to Mom and me. “Can you believe it, Sadie?”
“Ten thousand dollars, thank you, sir, can I have eleven, eleven thousand for a Sadie Frost original oil, thank you, ma’am, do I hear twelve?”
Holy crap. That was double my most expensive couch painting.
Something was happening, all right.
Noah left the stage and came walking through the crowd, his eyes never leaving my face.
“Fifteen thousand, fifteen, thank you, sir, can I get seventeen, seventeen thousand . . .”
He was here, right in front of me. “You’re giving away my painting,” I whispered.
He nodded. “I wanted you to see how beautiful it is. That guy in New York doesn’t know anything.”
“But it’s yours.” My lips trembled a little.
“So you’ll make me another.” He slipped behind me and whispered in my ear. “Look at this, Sadie. Look at that painting and how many people want it. It’s beautiful. It makes people happy. You do that, Special.”
“It’s for a good cause,” I murmured, hypnotized by the auction.
“Eh,” Juliet said. “Dinner with Lin-Manuel went for less than that.”
“Gosh, this is exciting,” Mom said. “Oh, the Stanleys just bid twenty grand, Sadie! Honey! I’m so proud of you!”
I started to cry.
“Maybe we should subtly drift away, Mom,” Juliet said.
“Why? Do you . . . Oh, okay. Not too far, though. You okay, hon?” she asked me.
I nodded, wiping my eyes.
“Going once for twenty-two thousand . . . going twice . . . last chance to bid on this magnificent Sadie Frost original . . . sold to the man in the blue shirt!”
The crowd burst into applause.
Noah turned me around and kept his hands on my shoulders. His big, warm, manly hands. “Sadie, I’ve looked at that painting every day since you gave it to me. It’s part of me.”
“Then why’d you put it up for sale?”
“Because I wanted to show what you do. How beautiful your paintings are. I’m not the only one who sees it.”
“But you won’t have it anymore.” A little sob popped out, and I covered my mouth.
“That’s okay. That was the old us. That painting has tortured me for years now, reminding me that I’ve only ever loved you.”
“Well, you’re quite a masochist then, hanging it in your house. You could’ve just burned it.”
“Absolutely not. Being mad at you was better than not having you at all. It was a way to see you every day. But, Special, I can’t do that anymore. I can’t keep you, and I can’t let go of you again. I love you. I love that you’re a painter. What you do is important and beautiful and . . . and magic. You just saw that. If y
ou need to be in New York, I understand. We can make it work. I want to make it work. I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen. I’m not gonna wreck that again.”
I seemed to be crying. Nope. Definitely crying. My mother and sister watched, smiling.
“I don’t want five children,” I said. “I don’t know if I want any.”
“I already have the world’s greatest kid, and he has the world’s greatest mother.”
“I live in a crooked house that hasn’t passed inspection.”
“I can fix that. Or you can marry me and live in my house.”
“I have a place in New York.” I dashed a hand across my eyes.
“You can spend as much time there as you want. I’ll even come visit when you want.”
“Did you . . . did you just propose?”
“Yes. For the third time, I might add.”
He was smiling.
“Are you sure, Noah?” I whispered.
He dropped down on one knee, and the folks around us cooed. A few people whipped out their phones. “Home is where you are, Sadie. I shouldn’t have tried to make everything fit how I wanted it. Marry me. Be my son’s stepmother. Be my wife. Go to New York if you need to, but come home to me, Sadie Frost. I love you with everything I have.”
I looked down into his dark, dark eyes. They were full of love and happiness and . . . certainty.
“Third time’s the charm, then,” I said. “Yes, Noah Pelletier, I will marry you.”
I kissed him then, threading my fingers through his curly hair, feeling so much love, so much joy. My father’s word to me was the key to everything.
Home had never been a place. Noah, my wild boy, was my home, my heart, my joy. Part of me had always known it, and now I would stake my claim and build from here.
EPILOGUE
Barb
Two years after he moved into Rose Hill, John died. In bed. With Janet.
They hadn’t had a sexual relationship, she told me. They just liked sleeping together. I believed her. It was nice to think that he died next to a woman he loved, who loved him as he was, and had never known him any other way.
So I was a widow now. I never had divorced him. Just couldn’t bring myself to sign the final papers. I had Caro, who’d moved in almost as soon as I asked her to. I hadn’t known life could be so happy and fun, so free. I didn’t need a divorce, wasn’t interested in dating. I’d won another term as first selectman, and so I had at least two years more of working, and that was wonderful.
Juliet and Oliver were better than ever, and Brianna and Sloane were the lights of my life. I still saw them a few times a week, but . . . well, things had changed a little bit. Juliet was still my darling girl, but she had come into her own. She was more relaxed now, and I had to admit, she didn’t need me as much as she used to. That was just fine. That was wonderful, in fact. The girls were putting them through their paces, and she was handling it like a real champ. Her firm was going gangbusters, and gosh, I was proud.
Noah and Sadie had gotten married about a month after the art auction. Just a little backyard affair here, at my house, with Caro officiating, since she was a justice of the peace. Brianna and Sloane were her bridesmaids, and Noah’s parents came down from Ottawa. Nice people. Even Sadie’s little dog got to come, and ate some cake before it was time, but we just cut it from the other side.
Now, too, I had little Marcus, who called me Nana and often came running into the town hall to give me a hug when Noah was there, filing paperwork with the building department. Mickey was a hoot and a holler, and she was a regular at our family gatherings. She loved to tease Caro and me about being lesbian wannabes, and we’d laugh so much at her comments.
Sadie had made good on her promise to flip that little house of hers. Granted, her sister was an architect and her husband was a carpenter, but she did most of the work herself, and it was quite the little charmer when it was finished. Her friend Carter and his husband bought it and called it their country house and often had lovely parties there. Caro and I were always invited.
Sadie had started an art gallery here in Stoningham. The Frost Gallery. It had her own pieces and some sculptures and photos by other artists, too. The summer folks gobbled it up. Another way our name was growing. Frost/Alexander, now the Frost Gallery. Sadie lived with Noah most of the time, though she’d flit off to the city for a few days here, a week there. She was a little bird, my daughter, always flying somewhere, but always coming back. Sometimes Noah would go to New York with her, and Caro and I would petition to take Marcus for a night or two, letting him stay in the bathtub till his fingers were pruney, then cuddling him and reading to him, kissing his dark curls.
The garden club had proposed an area at Sheerwater to be named after me. The garden would have all the types of flowers that bloomed when the weather was still cold—the Frost Garden. It was quite an honor, and I was so proud of my girls, and myself, and our name—we Frost women were an impressive lot.
When John died, I was sadder than I expected to be. I knew it was coming; those little strokes had chipped away at him, but now that he was really gone, I kept remembering snippets of our marriage that I’d forgotten.
There was one morning during the infertility years after I’d had an awful night. Cried in the little bathroom in the Cranston house and ran the tap so John wouldn’t hear me, since there was nothing he could do. I’d been embarrassed about being so sad over something I couldn’t control. Sad again, sad every month, and I knew it had to wear at him, the feeling of helplessness, so I kept it to myself as best I could.
But the next morning, he’d made me French toast with powdered sugar, my favorite. We’d had it on our honeymoon—the first time in my life I’d had French toast, and I was so delighted with the powdered sugar and the sliced-up strawberries, John had laughed at my happiness.
And then there it was, on a regular morning when we both had to go to work. French toast and warm maple syrup, powdered sugar and sliced strawberries.
I hadn’t thought of that since it happened, but now, those kinds of memories were slipping in.
Love isn’t always the thing that fills up the room, or your heart. Sometimes, it’s what sneaks into the in-between spaces. I never thought the love of my life would be my best friend. I never expected to get to the point where I found Sadie’s butterfly life to be so enjoyable to watch. I never knew I’d get to have a grandson who wasn’t technically mine, or that my family would grow to include the lesbian baby mama of my son-in-law, or the woman who was in bed with my husband when he died.
But here we all are.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Questions for Discussion
1. Relationships take a lot of compromise, and we can see Noah demonstrating this when he tries to live in New York for Sadie. Sadie also compromises, telling him to go back home when it’s clear he’s unhappy in the city she loves. For the sake of their relationship, do you think Sadie should have compromised the lifestyle she always wanted, or do you agree that they were too young at that point to make such large sacrifices?
2. What is the right time to adjust your dreams for someone else? The author makes no secret that Sadie and Noah love each other, but neither feels at home in the other’s world. Do you think one of them should have bent a little more, or do you think they made the right choices? (Also, how unromantic were Noah’s marriage proposals?)
3. Were you surprised with Barb’s decision in the end, despite everything that happened and went wrong in her and John’s marriage? Why do you think she chose what she did? What do you think about her view on marriage as opposed to what John’s actions told us about his?
4. Juliet has a memorable visit to a plastic surgeon. We’ve all felt the pressure to look or act a certain way because of our age or what society deems appropriate or good. Can you think of a particular circumstance in which this hap
pened? How did you handle it?
5. Have you ever felt the way Juliet did: that the window was closing on your chances, or that you’d aged out of an opportunity? What did you think of Arwen? Is she arrogant or just confident? Juliet is careful never to stoop to gossiping or complaining about Arwen, yet her confusion is obvious. Have you been in a similar situation?
6. How could both John and Barb have done things differently to understand each other and keep their marriage happy? They’re not happy for a long time, but do you think they’re just accustomed to the status quo? Do you know any long-married couples who seem to be getting things right? What are some keys to a long, happy relationship, or is that a myth?
7. One of the many types of relationships we see in this novel is the co-parenting relationship between Noah and Mickey. Though they aren’t romantically involved, their relationship is one of the most functional partnerships in the book. How do you think they make it work? Do you think this kind of relationship could work for you?
8. The theme of not being good enough is prevalent in this book, including feelings of not being a good mom, partner or artist. Can you relate to any of the insecurities that the characters feel? Do you tackle these insecurities head-on or ignore them and hope better days are ahead? Everyone feels insecure or inadequate at some point in their lives. What are some positive ways to deal with that?
9. Caro and Barb have such a close, loving and unconditional friendship that truly makes them soul mates. How does it differ from Barb’s relationship with John? What do you think are the key factors that brought Caro and Barb together and make their relationship work? How are the women different, and how are they the same? Who is your oldest or closest friend? What makes your friendship special?
10. Do you think reading John’s perspective throughout the book made you a little more forgiving toward him? How might you have felt had the author decided to include only the Frost women’s points of view?
11. In what ways do Juliet and her daughters’ relationships reflect her own mother’s relationships with Juliet and Sadie? What do you think of Juliet and Barb as mothers? If you’re a mother yourself, have you struggled with one child more than another?
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