by Margot Hunt
“I am happy. Or happier, anyway. Where’s John?”
“He’s getting the bags.” I glanced around, taking in my surroundings. “Wow, this place is nice.”
The living room was large and airy. There was a white sectional couch, several chairs upholstered in an aqua blue pattern, and glass-topped tables with driftwood bases. French doors lined one wall that opened onto a deck and beyond that, the beach. The ocean looked almost green, shimmering in the sunshine. The view was so stunning, I gasped.
“I know. Isn’t it incredible?” Esme said.
“It’s breathtaking!”
The front door opened and closed, and a moment later John ascended the stairs, carrying both of our suitcases.
“Do you need help?” I asked him.
“No, I’ve got it.” John put the luggage down, and then turned to smile at Esme. “It’s nice to see you.”
“You, too.” Esme kissed John’s cheek.
In that moment, the two of them looked like a Hollywood version of the perfect couple. They were both tall and lean. John’s fair hair and complexion made a striking counterpoint to Esme’s dark hair and pale skin. I pushed the thought away.
“Wow, this place is amazing.” John looked around. “How did you find it, Esme?”
“I found it,” I said, faintly irritated that he was giving her the credit. “Online, on one of those rental websites. I told you that.”
“Did you? Must’ve forgotten. I’m assuming the bedrooms are on the third floor, right?”
“Yes, I’ve already picked mine out,” Esme said lightly.
“Did you take the best one?” I asked, laughing. Every time we rented a vacation house, there was always some friendly competition over who scored the best bedroom. Esme almost always won.
“Of course. But there are two bedrooms with ocean views, so you’d better grab the other one before Nick and Ford get here.”
“I’m on it,” John said. He headed upstairs with our luggage.
“I brought some wine. Do you want a glass?” Esme asked me.
“That sounds perfect.”
Esme went to the kitchen, which was at the far end of the room, just past a long dining table. She pulled wineglasses out of a cupboard and took a chilled bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. She poured two glasses and handed me one.
“Let’s go out on the deck,” she said, heading toward the French doors.
I followed her outside. The deck was shaded by several large umbrellas, and a pleasant sea breeze blew off the water. Esme and I stood at the railing and looked at the beach and the vast expanse of ocean beyond. I breathed in deeply, and felt myself relax for the first time in weeks.
“It’s so beautiful out here,” Esme said. She tipped her face up toward the sun and closed her eyes for a moment. She turned and smiled at me, holding her glass up. “Cheers.”
“To the best vacation yet,” I said, clinking my glass against Esme’s.
“Definitely,” Esme said. “For starters, David won’t be here to ruin it. He was always such a pain when we went on trips.”
“He wasn’t that bad,” I lied.
I had never liked David. Esme had married him only a few months after they met, and the short courtship had proven to be misleading. David had been on his best behavior in those early days. It was only later that he started to display his darker side. His moodiness, his quick temper, his biting comments. The first time I saw it was a year or so after their wedding. The four of us were together in Orlando. David hadn’t wanted to come, because he thought Orlando was only for tacky tourists with sticky children. But John was attending a convention for work, and Esme had thought it would be fun to join us there. I’d been glad for the company, but one afternoon, I found myself alone at the hotel pool with David. John was at the convention center, and Esme had gone for a walk.
“Don’t you ever get tired of her entitlement?” David had asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Esme. She’s spent her entire life being handed everything and somehow, she’s convinced herself that she’s earned all of it.” David had snorted and rattled the ice cubes in his plastic cup. It wasn’t his first drink of the day. “Meanwhile, I’ve worked myself half to death for everything I have, and yet she’s unimpressed, because I didn’t start a multi-million-dollar franchise. I’ll never live up to her father.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I’d said. My loyalty had and would always be to Esme. “She loves you.”
David shook his head. “Don’t be so naive. She’s not the person you think she is. The only person Esme cares about is herself.”
Looking back, I was shocked that the marriage had lasted as long as it did: nearly twenty years. I never understood what Esme saw in David. He was, I suppose, somewhat attractive, although I always thought he had a weak chin. Esme would occasionally mention how funny or smart David was, and once, she’d told me that he’d been her rock when her mother died in a car accident. But I’d never seen that side of him. And I’d never forgotten that scathing tone he’d used to describe his new bride.
“Oh, yes he was,” Esme now said. “Do you remember that trip to the Bahamas when he threw a hissy fit because the restaurant had sold out of the entrée he wanted to order? So mortifying.”
“I don’t remember that,” I said.
“How could you forget? We were all rolling our eyes. Anyway.” Esme looked at me, her eyes crinkling with concern. “How are you?”
I smiled wanly. “I’m okay. The past few months have been difficult.”
“I can’t even imagine. Actually, I really can’t, since I’m not a mother.” Esme squeezed my arm. “How’s Aiden doing?”
I shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. He’s still in rehab, which I suppose is good. But what happens when he gets out? What if he relapses?”
“He’ll get the help he needs.”
“Let’s talk about something else. Anything else. I’m tired of spending every moment of every day worrying about Aiden. Tell me about what’s going on with you. I meant what I said: you look fantastic.”
“Thank you. I feel good. I won’t lie, the divorce was tough. But I feel like I’ve come through it stronger than I was before.”
“You’ve always been strong,” I protested.
“No.” Esme shook her head emphatically. “Not always. But I’m getting there.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
She looked out at the ocean. “There is someone, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
“I knew it!” I said triumphantly. “You have that look about you. You’re in love.”
“Caroline, stop.”
“Oh, come on. Give me some details. What’s he like?”
“All I’m going to tell you is that he’s different from David.” Esme smiled. “Which is a good thing.”
“What are you two talking about?” John asked, walking out on the deck. He’d poured himself a glass of wine.
“Esme’s love life,” I teased. “She has a secret boyfriend.”
“Oh, really?” John looked intrigued. “Do tell.”
Esme shook her head. “There’s nothing to tell. Not yet, anyway.”
Your brother and his husband have arrived,” John said. “I saw them through the window. They just parked, so they’ll be up any minute.”
Esme turned to me, her expression mischievous. “I can’t wait to see what you think of Ford.”
“I know you’re not a fan.” I leaned closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Is there something specific?”
“No. I can’t really explain it. There’s just something about him that rubs me the wrong way.”
“Well, what do you know about him?”
“That’s just it. Practically nothing. Every time I’ve asked him anything about himself—where he’s from, what his family is like, where he’s worked—he shuts the conversation down.”
“You don’t know what he does for a living?”
“He doesn’t work. Nick supports him,” Esme shot back. “With my dad’s money, of course, since he’s yet again subsidizing Nick’s latest failing business venture.”
“Which is what?”
“I didn’t tell you?” Esme laughed derisively. “Nick opened up a juice bar.”
“He did? When did that happen?”
“A few months ago. It’s in Bal Harbour, so I’m sure the rent is outrageous. I stopped by once. There were no customers, the girl who took my order was rude, and the green juice tasted rancid. I threw it out as soon as I left. But Nick is so delusional, he thinks he’s going to turn it into a franchise. Just like Dad.”
“So Ford’s a gold digger, and he picked a husband with a failing business?”
Esme looked at me almost impatiently.
“What?” I asked.
“Nick will be wealthy,” she said. “Once Dad dies. He already told us that he’s planning to split everything between the two of us. Half will go to me, half to Nick. Which is complete bullshit. I spent the last twenty-five years working for the company, helping to build it into what it is today. What’s Nick done?”
I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I’ll tell you: he spent his entire adult life spending money he didn’t earn,” Esme continued. “And now he gets half of everything that my father and I have worked for.”
“Do you think Ford knows how much Nick will inherit?”
“I’m sure he does. Nick is absolutely besotted with him. Which is just about the worst mistake you can make.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s never a good idea to be the one who’s more in love. It puts you at a disadvantage.”
“That’s very cynical.”
Esme shook her head impatiently, as if I was missing some larger point she was making. “Wait until you meet him. You’ll see what I mean.”
Nick was standing in the living room, looking around. He and Esme had the same creamy pale skin and dark, wavy hair. But where Esme was elegant and angular, Nick had a thick build and small, squinty eyes that I’d always thought made him look squirrelly.
“This place is dope!” Nick announced. “Hey, Essie! Caroline!”
He kissed each of us on the cheek, and then attempted a fist bump with John, who looked confused by the gesture.
“Where’s Ford?” Esme asked.
“I’m right here.”
Ford appeared from a back hallway by the kitchen. Everyone turned to look at him, but that was probably normal for Ford. From his chiseled frame, to his square superhero jaw, to his striking green eyes, he was one of the best-looking men I had ever met.
“Hello,” he said, smiling. “I’m Ford Overfield.”
“Overfield?” Esme repeated. “I didn’t know you took Nick’s last name.”
“I did,” Ford said. He turned to Nick and squeezed his hand. “Why? Is that an issue?”
“No, of course not. I just—” Esme started to speak, stopped, then shook her head. “Never mind. It isn’t important.”
“Actually, it is important.” Nick scowled. “It’s important to us.”
“Calm down, Nick,” Esme said. She crossed her arms and stared him down. “I’ll have something monogrammed for you.”
Nick looked furious, but Ford rested a hand on his husband’s arm.
“We’d love that,” Ford said to Esme. “I’ve always wanted monogrammed sham covers.”
“I’ll get right on that.” Esme smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“You have to come over and see the new place soon,” Ford continued. “We just finished remodeling the kitchen.”
“Really,” Esme said. After the conversation we’d had mere moments earlier, I could practically read her thoughts. How much did my father pay for that renovation?
“Are you going to do this all weekend?” Nick asked.
“Do what?” Esme replied.
“Pick at me. Pick at Ford. Pick at our life together.”
“I’m not picking,” Esme said. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to say it. I could tell what you were thinking.”
“Nick.” Esme exhaled a long, aggravated breath. “Please stop. This is supposed to be a vacation, not family therapy. We really should spare Ford, Caroline, and John from our . . . issues.”
Nick opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Ford squeezed his hand again.
“She’s right,” Ford said sweetly. “We came here to relax, right?”
The change in Nick was instantaneous. His features softened, and he grinned shyly at his handsome husband. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll get into vacation mode.”
Esme threw me a pointed look, which Nick luckily missed. I was starting to see what Esme had been talking about: Nick was infatuated. Which meant, of course, that Ford was in complete control.
After the dustup between Esme and Nick, we all went our separate ways for the afternoon. I went upstairs to unpack. Esme said she was going to take a nap. Nick and Ford announced they were going out for a drive to see the town.
“Hey,” John said, coming into the room.
“Where have you been?”
“Just admiring the view. So, Esme and Nick.” John whistled. “That got interesting quickly.”
He collapsed down on our bed, folding his hands underneath his head.
“You’re lying on my dress,” I said irritably.
“What? Oh, sorry.” John pushed the garment aside with his leg, rumpling it even more. “What do you think happened down there?”
“With Esme and Nick, you mean?” I asked, making sure to keep my voice low. I had no idea how thick the walls were here, and Esme’s room was right next door.
“There are a lot of unresolved issues in that family. And the new husband is something else,” John remarked.
“Esme said the same thing, but honestly, I liked him. He completely defused the conflict between Esme and Nick before it turned ugly. And trust me, they can get ugly. I’ve seen it.”
“I don’t know. There’s something about him that just seems . . . off.” John rolled onto his side, propping up his head with one arm. “I’m surprised you didn’t sense that. You’re normally so good at reading people.”
“I just met him. I could hardly form an opinion that quickly.”
“You make snap judgments all the time. Why stop now?”
I paused with a pile of T-shirts still in my hands. “And now you’re picking at me. Why?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. It’s none of our business who Nick marries. He’s a big boy.”
John raised his hands, palms out. “Hey, now. I was just making conversation. Besides, Esme’s your best friend. I would have thought you’d be concerned on her behalf.”
“Why?”
“Because if Ford is after Nick’s money, that affects Esme.”
“I don’t see how. Esme gets her share of their father’s inheritance regardless. If Nick decides to spend his portion remodeling his house with his husband, that’s his choice.” I could feel my headache start to throb again behind my eyes. Right now I had more important things to worry about than how Esme’s father planned to split his multimillion-dollar estate. I suddenly, desperately wanted to be alone. “I’m going downstairs.”
“And do what?”
“Sit on the deck. Breathe in the fresh air. Read. And do my best to clear my mind.”
The alcohol was flowing freely, and everyone seemed tipsy before dinner was even served. Esme’s face was flushed pink, and she was giggling uncontrollably at a story about the time John and his college friends went on a spur-of-the-moment road trip to Las Vegas. John was more relaxed and gregarious than I’d seen him in weeks, and he was clearly enjoying Esme’s attention. Nick was also listening, interrupting frequently with anecdotes from his younger, wild-child years.
I wandered over to where Ford was manning the grill. He tested one of the steaks with an index
finger, and then flipped it over. The meat sizzled on the hot grates.
“That looks delicious,” I commented. “Where did you learn to cook?”
“Here and there.” Ford alone seemed sober. He’d had a glass of prosecco earlier, but was now nursing a can of sparkling water.
“Did you ever cook professionally?”
“For a bit, when I was in my early twenties.”
“Where’d you work?”
Ford glanced up at me. His expression was pleasant, but I had a feeling he wasn’t comfortable with my questions. “Nowhere you would have heard of. I was a line cook, nothing fancy.”
“Still—a great skill to have. You know, Esme never told me how you and Nick met.”
This time, Ford smiled. I was struck again by how incredibly handsome he was. It was hard not to stare.
“We actually had quite a meet cute,” he said. “It was like something out of a movie. We were both at the park, walking our dogs. They started playing with one another, and their leashes got tangled up. We started chatting and didn’t want to stop, so we went for a coffee. And then when we still didn’t want to stop talking, we went to lunch at a bistro—this place with an outdoor patio so we could bring the dogs. We’ve basically been together ever since.”
“That’s adorable.” It was a charming story, but I felt a pang of sadness. When had the romance disappeared from my marriage? Had it been there one day, gone the next? Or had it rotted away so slowly I hadn’t noticed it disappear?
“I know. It’s so cute, it’s borderline annoying.” Ford smiled. “How did you and your husband meet?”
I glanced over at John, who was sitting on one of the cushioned patio chairs, his legs crossed, a hand waving in the air as he spoke. He looked like a man without a care in the world, not a father with a son in rehab facing criminal prosecution.
Maybe that wasn’t fair, I thought. It was exhausting to constantly worry about Aiden. John probably needed a break. And he was clearly enjoying having an audience—he’d always loved being the center of attention.
“No meet cute for us. We were set up by a mutual friend.”
“A blind date? That could qualify.”
“I suppose, but not in our case. John was actually seeing someone else. An abrasive woman that our mutual friend didn’t like going on double dates with. She was hoping I’d divert his attention.”