He had no idea what she was talking about, so he smiled politely and nodded.
She grinned, leaning forward. “Will you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Come to the reception with me. It’s at the Marriott. We could have a few free drinks, eat some of the food that’s costing my dad more money than a trip to Greece. There’s a great band.”
He leaned back, trying suddenly to put distance between them.
She looked down at the ring on his finger. “It wouldn’t be a date. Really. Just a fun night out.”
Promise me, Elizabeth had said to him only two weeks ago, promise me you won’t become the man you were before.
“You’d be saving me. Really.” She raised her hand to signal the bartender that she was ready to pay; then she stood up and reached for his hand.
At the last second, he drew back. If he touched her, he might weaken, and it was weakness that had sent him down that forbidden road so many years ago. “I can’t do it,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
She stood there a minute, looking down at him. Finally, she smiled. “She’s a lucky woman. Well, wish me luck. I’m back into the fray.”
After she left, Jack looked down and saw that his hands were trembling. He felt like a man who’d swerved just in time to avoid a head-on collision.
Elizabeth looked down at her list. After two weeks of working like a dog, she was nearing the end. Only the kitchen remained unpacked.
She stood in the empty living room. Gone were the beautiful striped chairs she’d re-covered herself, and the down-filled blue-and-yellow toile sofa. Gone, too, were the family photographs that used to line every available surface. Most of them had been put in storage; a few, the ones she couldn’t live without, had been shipped to Jack in New York.
In place of her many treasures stood cardboard boxes. Dozens of them, each one marked with a title she’d chosen carefully. In two days, the movers she’d hired would come for this final load, truck them over to the storage facility, and it would be time to go.
She released her breath slowly. It was better not to think about that. If she looked too far ahead, she lost strength.
It was just a house, after all. She reminded herself of that at least fifty times a day.
She had spoken to Jack daily since he’d left. He sounded happier than he’d been in years. He adored his new job. Each time she hung up, she found herself praying, Please, God, let me find that again, too … let us find it.
At four-thirty, the doorbell rang. She’d been expecting it, but still she jumped at the noise.
I’m not ready yet.
Not that she had a choice. She squared her shoulders, smoothed her wrinkled clothes, and went to the door.
Sharon Solin stood on the porch, with her arms pressed close to her sides. She wore a blackwatch plaid skirt and a navy scoop-necked angora sweater. Elizabeth was reminded of Love Story—Jenny Cavilleri doing her first walk-through of a potential rental house.
“Mrs. Shore?” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Sharon Solin.”
“Call me Elizabeth, please. Come in.”
“It’s beautiful,” Sharon said when she stepped inside.
Elizabeth had no trouble seeing it through Sharon’s eyes. The living room was bright, with butter yellow walls and glossy white crown molding. A pair of oversized windows let in a glorious amount of sunlight, even on this dreary winter’s day. The oak floors, stripped and refinished by her own hand, seemed to capture all that golden light.
Sharon turned into the kitchen, exclaimed over the beautiful white cabinetry and granite countertops. She loved the old-fashioned stove. In the dining room, she raved over the beautiful view.
Elizabeth managed to keep up a steady stream of inane conversation as they walked through the kitchen, past the guest bathroom, and up the stairs. She tossed out bits and pieces of her life—My husband has been transferred.… We’ve lived in this house for a little over two years.… It was a wreck when we moved in.… The previous owners had really let it go.… I never got around to finishing the bedrooms, but I picked out the colors.… I started planting the garden last spring.…
It wasn’t until the end of the tour that she cracked. She should have seen it coming, but she’d missed the signs. Instead, she blundered into her bedroom and saw that view.
The room’s French doors—the very first addition she’d made to the house—were flanked on either side by floor-to-ceiling windows. Pretty pine molding framed the expansive view.
The ocean stretched from one end of the room to the other in a kaleidoscope of blues. Today, the sky looked gray, but Elizabeth knew that if you looked closely, you’d see a dozen other colors. On the balcony beyond, a pair of white Adirondack chairs glistened with rainwater. A huge, intricate spiderweb connected the chairs. Beaded by raindrops, it looked like a Swarovski crystal necklace.