Learning at 40 (Lakeside Cottage Book 2)

by L. B. Dunbar

  “What stage are you at?” Anna teases.

  I consider all I’ve lost in the past year—my marriage and my best friend. I’m learning as I go right now, but I’m also willing to learn as I live. So that means . . .

  “Ready to love.”

  “Your boys?” Anna tweaks a brow.

  “And River,” I whisper.

  Anna’s smile grows. “Ben would be so happy for you.”

  I lick my lower lip and bite the flesh.

  “I know.” Ben. He would have been so happy that I’d fallen in love. Excuse me, flying in it or ready to fly. First, I need to focus on the “second star to the right and straight on till morning,” as Peter Pan said earlier tonight.

  River is that star. Morning couldn’t get here fast enough.

  23

  [Zack]

  Although I sat in a chair with my feet propped up on the windowsill for the remainder of the night, I’d fallen asleep until I heard a car door slamming. Subconsciously, I didn’t know if I really heard the door or imagined it, but I flinched, and my feet fell to the floor, completely asleep. Pins and needles cripple my legs as I try to shake them out so I can stand.

  When I finally have enough circulation to move, I’m limping, but I’m picking up speed, certain River must be home by now. I check the time as I found my watch in the pocket where the boys securely hid it. Roughly after eight, it shows, and my mind races with thoughts. Where had River been all night? I didn’t want to believe she’d run off for a one-night stand as she’d already told me it wasn’t her kind of thing, and I didn’t know if she had friends in the area where she might have stayed. I did know her family was limited.

  As I exit the front door of Anna’s house, I hear raised voices coming from next door when I round the garage. I don’t typically tuck through the hole in the fence where my sons first crawled to River’s home. I’ve always taken the long way down the drive and around the fence to her driveway and then along the side of the house. However, I’m in a hurry today, and when I hear those voices grow louder, I skip the hole and jump the chain fence, struggling with the shrubbery before I break free to her driveway.

  A man stands near River’s front stoop, where she’s posed and defensive in her body language. Arms crossed. A scowl on her face. She looks like she’s holding herself back but ready to pounce on the man. He’s roughly my height and size but dressed in suit pants and a crisp button-down. They both peer in my direction, and the man smooths his hand down the length of his tie.

  “Everything alright?” I immediately ask, brushing off loose leaves that cling to me as I fought the mighty arborvitae.

  “Who’s this?” Suit-man asks while River simply closes her eyes a second.

  “He’s the neighbor.” I halt at the label said with disdain. Neighbor? I’ll tackle that comment second. First, I want to know who this guy is and why River has her hackles up with him.

  “I heard voices,” I state, and River twists her lips.

  “Probably should get that checked then,” Suit-man says. Smart-ass. Ignoring me as if I’m a squirrel crossing the yard, he turns back to River.

  “You really should reconsider,” he states to her.

  “I’ve told you before. I’m not giving up the place. It’s what Quincy wanted.”

  “His name was Dennis, and he wasn’t of sound body and mind.” Suit-man slips his hands into his pockets.“We’ve been through this before. You have my lawyer’s contact. Talk to them.”

  This is when I step forward, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu from the day before.

  “Everything alright, River?” I repeat, sensing nothing is right about this man standing near her front stoop, hinting at her giving up this place.

  “Who are you again?” Suit-man turns to me, and I have a better view of him with his glossy hair and paunchy cheeks. His assessing gaze covers me in less than a minute, and disgust fills his face. Do I look like that when I look at people? I’m certain I do when I’m in lawyer mode.

  “Zack Weller.” I step forward, offering a hand, and River’s mouth pops open but quickly shuts. Suit-man reaches out to shake mine although he hesitates a second, considering my hand might be unclean after wrestling the bushes.

  “Daniel Quincy.” My hand freezes mid-shake, and I crane my neck to look at River for clarification.

  “Quincy’s son?” I ask her.

  “His name was Dennis,” Daniel hisses, and I face him once more, releasing his hand.

  “And to what do we owe the honor of your visit?”

  “We?” he sputters. “It’s a private matter.” He turns back to River, who hasn’t moved from her crossed arm stance.

  “I’m her attorney.” Daniel’s gaze swivels back to me, taking another roam over my attire. Rumpled T-shirt. Sports shorts. Flip-flops. He shifts back to River.

  “Well, this ought to be good.” He gives me a salacious smile as if he sees the writing on the wall. Like I’m some local dumbass he can beat in the game he wants to play. Glancing up at River, I give her a cautious shake of my head. Don’t argue with me.

  “So, what can we do for you?” I repeat.

  “Your client,” he hisses, “stole my house.”

  “Is that so?” I ask, tipping back on my heels. “Would that be under inheritance laws where she was gifted this property, or did she pick it up and slip it in her pocket to steal it?”

  His all-knowing expression slowly starts to wither.

  “Because according to Michigan law, it’s legal to leave a house to a person. And as inheritance implies someone has passed away, as is the current case, it’s difficult to prove sound body and mind on a dead person.”

  Daniel’s mouth slowly drops open.

  “In simple terms, if there was a will, there was a way this house was given to Ms. Nagle. Gifted, but not stolen.” I hate to even ask if the will had been contested, and I’m thankful when Daniel offers the information.

  “I’ll contest the will.”

  “You’ve already tried,” River answers.

  “Was it in probate?” I ask River despite the distance between us.

  “Quincy had an estate.”

  I turn on Daniel. “If Dennis Quincy’s affairs were in an estate, then his will is solid.” The issue of a nonfamily member inheriting a sizable gift can be suspect. In the case of River, because she was the nurse slash caregiver to a dying man, it’s possible the family questioned the decision in the will. They might have believed she coerced Quincy into giving her the property upon his death. If she had married him, there wouldn’t have been a question—equitable property and such—but River admitted they weren’t married. Why had she told me they were?

  Running the scenario through my head, if the family already contested the will once, a judge isn’t likely to repeal the decision already determined. There would have to be suspicion of foul play, and although I’ve accused River of such a thing with my watch, I was a damn fool. She hadn’t coerced a dying man to do anything.

  “We’ll see,” Daniel states, turning more fully to face me. “My attorneys will be in touch.” Suit-man walks to his convertible parked near the middle of the driveway, and I approach River on her stoop. She doesn’t address me but keeps her eyes on Daniel as he reverses and pulls out of her drive. Then she turns, giving her back to me.

  “River, please.” She pauses but doesn’t face me. “We need to talk.”

  “We have nothing to say.”

  I sigh, swiping a hand through my hair. “I misspoke. I’ll talk. You listen. Please.”

  Her shoulders fall, but she doesn’t turn around.

  “I fucked up. I’m sorry.” The words are not enough, and River spins to face me again.

  “Where did you hear it?”

  I glance up at her, confused for a second by what she’s asking.

  “Who told you I stole the house? What was it? That I’m a gold digger. That I tricked a dying man into giving me his home. Or was it my favorite that I must have given good head to get h
im to gift me the house when he was dead?” Her voice rises as a tear falls. Quickly, she wipes it away. I haven’t seen River cry over anything other than a sick child. Her heart is so big . . . for other people’s pain.

  “Someone said something at Crossroads Café. I-I misunderstood.”

  “And instead of approaching me like a sane person, you show up to attack me and my character.” River shakes her head, crossing her arms once again. “I thought you knew me better than that. But I know you, and you make assumptions. You assumed I’d kidnapped your boys that first afternoon you barged into my yard. You didn’t want to hear an explanation. You just wanted to make accusations. Well, I’ve heard enough.”

  “What was he doing here?” I nod toward the driveway.

  “Just wanting to harass me again for what they feel is due to them.”

  “Please, tell me what happened. I want to understand.”

  “You had your chance to understand, Zack.”

  “I made a mistake,” I say, my voice catching at her dismissal.

  “So did I.” Her face saddens as her gaze lowers, coasting along the length of my body. I’m her mistake?

  “Don’t-don’t say that. Please don’t hate me.”

  River glances up at me, her head shaking slowly from side to side. “We aren’t ten-year-olds. I don’t hate you. I was at risk of loving you. That might have been worse. And now, I’m tired. I worked a double shift and have another shift in a few hours. Get off my property, Zack.”

  She turns again, leaving me stunned on the stoop before she enters her house and closes the door on me once more. For the first time, I understand what falling really means. It wasn’t falling in love but cascading into a pit of despair—utter, hopeless despair—that I just lost the perfect woman for me.

  A woman I desperately need and trust.

  24

  [River]

  I was exhausted. After the double shift, the morning altercation, and then another shift, I just wanted to sleep for weeks. Unfortunately, on my day off, my body said, get up, be productive. Never waste a good day, and today is a perfectly good day, Grandfather would say, wanting every moment in life to count for something. I originally had plans to spend time with Zack. Those plans were now a bust.

  As I was at risk of two little boys rushing into my yard, I decide I need to get away from the house, so I went to a local farmers’ market, then hit up a flea market. It was time to start renovating this old house where I could. Some new decorations along with a paint job in a few rooms might be a start.

  Going to dinner by myself at Driftwoods or even Rudder’s felt pathetic, so I bought takeout and took it to the public beach where I knew I wouldn’t see Zack or any of his friends-cation crew. I ate alone, watching the sun lower in the sky just a touch earlier than it had two weeks before. Mid-August still brought the heat during the day, but a chill at night warned that summer was coming to a close.

  I’d been reflective as I ate, recalling Zack’s response to the sight of his father. I imagine it was quite a shock if he hadn’t seen the man in over twenty-five years. His reaction, while understandable, wasn’t attractive. Zack didn’t need to be a perfect man, but he did need to be a decent human being. Oliver and Trevor hadn’t known how to respond to the sharp snarl in his voice as he told a complete stranger he wasn’t allowed to have memories. Sometimes memories were all we had, especially when the physical person was no longer in our lives for whatever reason. Not wanting to disappoint the boys because of their father’s crappy mood, I carried on with the plan to show a movie in my yard, however inappropriate that movie might have been for his sons. His children. His concern. The thought hurt considering all I’d done for them, but then again, I didn’t do things for others in hopes of a return investment. People weren’t banks. You didn’t make a deposit only to withdrawal more than they could give. And I was spent on thoughts of Zack.

  When I finally return home under cover of darkness, I find a bouquet in a glass vase on my front porch.

  Wildflowers for my wild girl. Her generous spirit is endless.

  A bushel of roses couldn’t have brought forgiveness for the hurt Zack caused me yesterday morning. My heart felt removed with a dull scalpel and no anesthesia. He hadn’t trusted me. He thought I tricked Quincy and believed I was only after money. The accusations were familiar because Quincy’s children thought the same thing. The will had been contested but found authentic. I inherited the house through Quincy’s generosity. In some ways, I understood how Daniel and his siblings couldn’t appreciate the gift. They didn’t seem to have a decent bone in their bodies.

  I hated feeling like a coward, but I didn’t trust myself to wander into my own backyard. The friends-cation clan planned a beach fire for their last night. The men would be staying up late for a toast in memory of their friend who passed away. Zack told me about the message, although not the message he’d specifically received from Ben. I’d been invited to attend the early portion of the evening, and Zack planned to meet me after their new ritual. That would no longer happen.

  It was difficult to accept that I wouldn’t be seeing Zack for one more night. I really thought we were headed in the same direction, even if we hadn’t discussed a future. We were moving forward, not stagnant. However, I’d been wrong before in my assessment of a relationship. Is a ten-day fling grounds for a relationship anyway? I didn’t have answers. Before Zack, I thought my only focus was work and this house. He was something I had not expected and was not ready to give up. However, it certainly felt like decisions had been made. I couldn’t be with a man who didn’t trust me, believe in me . . . love me.

  Love. It hadn’t been on my radar. It wasn’t that I didn’t want it. I definitely did. I just hadn’t foreseen it happening anytime soon. I was still adjusting to my new position—a new city, a new home, a new job. I also hadn’t seen myself falling so hard for his children, which widened the hole already in my heart when I thought of the twins not being next door.

  I wasn’t just losing their father but losing them as well, and although they weren’t my children, as Zack reminded me, I still had strong feelings about them. Oliver was so affection-desperate, and Trevor just ached. I knew I couldn’t cure them of the ailments inflicted by a missing mother, but I’d been willing to try. I’d been wanting to try, and it was all a foolish thought after only ten days.

  I carry the flowers into the house and set them on the kitchen table as the doorbell rings. My head hangs. I can’t take another argument with Zack. I can’t even handle an apology from him. I just need to be alone with my thoughts. Still, I wander to the door, wondering who would actually ring the bell. To my surprise, it is my neighbor but not the one I expected.

  “Anna?”

  “It’s a long-overdue housewarming gift. Welcome to the neighborhood.” She holds up a wine bottle and smiles.

  “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” I reach out for the housewarming gift, remaining in place.

  “Would it be bold of me to ask if you’d share a drink with me?” She nods at the container in my hand.

  I sigh. “You don’t need to do this.” I stare down at the red wine. “You didn’t have to come on his behalf or even pretend to be my friend. I swear it won’t be awkward.” I had been alone for so long I was used to the silence of my own company.

  “I’m not pretending, and I’m not here for he who shall not be named.”

  I laugh at the reference.

  “I’m here for me, actually.” My head pops up. “I thought we could talk.”

  The suggestion was similar to Zack’s last words, but I didn’t want to talk about him.

  “I need someone to talk to,” Anna softly admits, holding her gaze on me. “But I understand if you’d rather not because of him.” She hitches a thumb over her shoulder, pointing at the house next door.

  “Don’t be silly. If you need to talk, I’m a good listener.” Stepping back, I give a wide berth for her to enter my home. Lending an ear is sometimes better than
offering your heart. Grandfather 3:20-million.

  As Anna walks through the house, she glances around the family room, and I follow her to the kitchen. She’s obviously familiar with the layout of the place.

  “In some ways, it’s so different yet exactly the same.” She stands beside my kitchen table, and I walk around a peninsula cabinet to retrieve wineglasses.

  “I know your mother was best friends with Zack’s, so I assume you’ve spent time in here.” I didn’t know if I should mention Zack’s dad and decided against it. His father was his business and the story of their meeting wasn’t mine to tell.

  “I have, but it feels like a lifetime ago.”

  I nod for her to sit, and she takes a seat at the kitchen table as I open the wine bottle and pour us each a glass.

  “But I’m not here for Zack,” she repeats. “Although he mentioned what happened. He’s an idiot. It’s none of my business, though, but if you’d like to talk, I can listen as well.”

  The door is open for the truth, and I feel a little nauseous, but I need her to know it. “I wasn’t married, and I’m sorry I said I was.”

  She doesn’t seem at all shocked by my revelation. Tipping her head, she asks, “Why did you then?”

  “It was easier than explaining the truth.”

  Anna waves a hand in a circle, signaling I should continue with my tale.

  “Dennis Quincy was my patient. The prognosis was bleak; however, his spirit was strong. My God, that man was stubborn, but in his advanced age, his body wouldn’t handle surgery. He didn’t want to end his days in some vegetative state. He’d gone blind, and he liked me to read to him. He said I had a soothing voice.” I chuckle with the memory. My voice is scratchy, but Quincy complimented me often on it. He said it brought him peace.

  “He asked me to marry him.” I laugh a little. “I thought he was joking. An old man trying to be flirtatious is risky in our days of hashtag me too, but I let it pass because he was innocent enough. What was he going to do to me? Then one day, he told me he was serious. He wanted to gift me something, and he thought it best if I was his wife. I couldn’t agree. I declined.” It’s actually against most codes of ethics for a nurse to receive something substantial as recompense for simply doing my job. But Quincy wasn’t a job for me. He reminded me so much of my grandfather minus the snarky tongue, or maybe at times, because of it.