Chapter Twenty
The days are lazily blending into one another, each day sunnier than the last, each person in the house finally feeling relaxed and at peace.
They have all established something of a routine.
Daniel is woken up at the crack of dawn each day by a small person’s face centimeters from his own. “Daddy? Are you awake?” Loud stage whispers from Stella that never fail to bring a smile to his face as he climbs out of bed and goes downstairs to make them breakfast.
Nan is always downstairs first. She had grand plans of being the hostess with the mostest, but she is tired these days and grateful that Daniel is so good in the kitchen, so at home. Breakfast has now become Daniel’s responsibility, and Nan plays with the girls as he whips up pancakes, or waffles, or French toast.
Michael is usually next, stumbling into the kitchen half asleep, his hair mussed up, the old, faded T-shirt that he slept in crumpled, a pair of cargo pants and flip-flops on as he yawns his way to the coffee machine, barely able to speak until that first cup of coffee.
Daff comes down last, breezes in clad in shorts and a T-shirt, wide awake and terminally happy.
They have taken to eating outside on the terrace, the girls and Nan setting the table every morning, thick glasses filled with cornflowers and hydrangeas taking pride of place in the middle of the old scrubbed table.
After breakfast, Michael has been taking off to run errands, or helping Nan fix something around the house, for there is always something that needs to be done.
He wishes there was a way to keep Windermere but, as romantic as he is, he is also a realist. He sat up with Daniel one night to discuss it, the two of them nursing large single malts as they sat at the kitchen table while the rest of the house slept.
“It’s a wonderful house.” Daniel looked around the kitchen as he sipped his whiskey. “They don’t make houses like this anymore, but it hasn’t been maintained, and it needs renovating.”
“What do you think?” Michael leaned forward. “A couple of hundred grand?”
Daniel was shocked. “No! I think half a million would be more like it,” he said. “If not more. Everything needs doing. It’s a gut job, and I’m not sure it’s worth it. Obviously, it’s worth it to you, and I hate saying you have to tear down something so wonderful . . .” He sighs. “I’m not sure what the alternative is.”
“Really? A gut job? You don’t think we could get away with fixing what needs to be done for far less?”
“I wish I could say yes, but it needs new bathrooms, new wiring, new plumbing. The shingles need replacing, it needs a new roof, the windows are all rotting. And that’s just looking at it now. With these old houses the minute you start working on them, the more you find out what’s wrong.”
Michael is aghast. “How do I tell my mom?”
“You don’t.” Daniel shrugged. “Not until you absolutely have to. I’ve been checking out the real estate here and the good news is that this is worth millions.”
“I know.” Michael sighed. “But where would she go?”
“With that money? You could build her something small and gorgeous, build something for yourself, I imagine, and still have enough left over so that neither of you would have to worry ever again.”
“But money isn’t everything. Mom’s never been motivated by money, and I think she’d be heartbroken at the prospect of leaving.”
“I understand.” Daniel nodded. “But it may not come to that. If my recent experience has taught me anything, it’s that things have a habit of working out in life the way they are supposed to, if you are able to just relax and trust in the workings of the universe.”
Michael grinned. “Funny,” he said. “I believe much the same thing. It’s very New Age of us, apparently.”
Daniel grinned back. “Well, it seems I really am a new man after all.”
“The window’s stuck in my room again.” Daff wanders into the garden to find Nan, on her hands and knees, weeding the tomatoes. “Any ideas?”
“I’ll send Michael up to have a look,” Nan says. “He should be back from town any minute.”
“Thanks.” Daff smiles. “I’m having a lazy morning in bed reading and waiting for the fog to clear.”
“It will be gone by lunchtime, then it’ll be a perfect day for the beach. Are you around for lunch?”
“Oh don’t worry about me,” Daff says. “I may go to the village and grab something.”
Nan shrugs. “Fine. Oh listen. That’s Michael’s bike on the gravel. Let’s go and ask him about that damned window.”
A few minutes later Daff perches on the bed as Michael starts to work and, again, she has that feeling she had just the other day. Lust.
Until the other day, when this first happened, she might have said that she fully expected never to feel this way again, that perhaps it wasn’t possible, once you hit your forties, to feel this, that it was just for kids, for younger people in search of a thrill.
But no. It is quite clear that this is lust, and Daff is stunned. She has been aware that she likes Michael, that she feels safe with him. She likes the way he places his hand in the small of her back to guide her into a room. She likes that he looks after his mother, that he seems to want to look after her too. She wakes up in the morning and smiles at the thought of seeing him stumble around the kitchen to refill his coffee cup; she thinks he looks like a cute little boy with his hair mussed up and his eyes filled with sleep.
“Ah-ha! I’ve got it.” Michael groans as he reaches up. “It’s this bit that’s sticking. Can you pass me that box knife?”
Daff goes to the toolbox and passes him the knife, feeling another shiver as her fingers accidentally brush his.
Oh for God’s sake, she tells herself, embarrassed. You’re a grown woman. Stop behaving like a teenager. But still, she has to fight the urge to glance at herself in the mirror on the other side of the room, checking that she looks okay.
“All done,” Michael says, and for a second they just stand there, looking at each other, the air suddenly charged as Daff fumbles for something to say.
“Are you going to the party?” Michael asks softly, and Daff nods. The party Jack from the garden center has invited them to is this evening. Daff is surprised to realize she is excited about tonight in a way she hasn’t been excited for ages.
Michael reaches out and slowly tucks a strand of hair behind Daff’s ear.
“Wear your hair down,” he says. “You look beautiful.” Then, turning, he walks out of the room, leaving Daff to sink down on the bed with a hand on her fluttering heart.
Jess scuffs around Wal-Mart, looking like any other young teenager, not meeting anyone’s eyes, covertly checking for security guards.
She doesn’t call it stealing. Jess would never steal, and anyway, this isn’t from a person, it’s from a huge conglomerate, therefore it doesn’t count. In the couple of weeks since she started, she has amassed a startling amount of goods. Both drawers in her bedside table are stuffed full, and she has taken to locking her bedroom door just in case her dad or Carrie should walk in and question her.
She lines up her wares in silence, feeling, in an odd way, safe when she is surrounded by this stuff that is hers and only hers, for only she knows about it.
Occasionally, as she looks at it all, she feels a pang of guilt, but she shoves it away by remembering the exhilaration, the burst of adrenaline and excitement when she first gets out of the store, the pockets of her coat containing some small thing, the fact that she got away with it making her dizzy with power.
Today she has decided to do things differently. Today is her first time at Wal-Mart, and why not get something for her? Something she actually wants, something she might want to buy?
She moves past the tables piled high with sparkly T-shirts, and stops, unfolding one, attempting to look nonchalant, look like every other girl as she slowly slides one from the bottom of the pile into her tote bag.
She leaves the T-shirts, shaking her head as if she has changed her mind, and moves on, to a table with hats. Again, the same motion, pretending to be focused on one thing as she covertly slips another item of clothing into the bag, looking around afterward to check no one has seen.
“I’m done,” she says when she’s walked over to her friend Alexandra, who’s browsing in the CD section.
“Wait. Which should I get? Beyoncé or Fergie?”
Jessica shrugs. “Fergie, I guess. Don’t you have an iPod shuffle, though?”
“I did, but I lost it and my parents refuse to get me another one. Have you got one?”
“Not a shuffle.” Jessica shakes her head. “I just remembered there was something else I wanted to look at. Wait here!” And she runs off toward the electronics section of the store.
Daff is not a woman who lives for shopping, but today she has an image in her mind of who she wants to be tonight, so she heads into town determined to find the dress she has created for herself in her imagination.
She has spent the morning daydreaming about the party tonight. She sees herself standing, a glass of champagne in hand, her lightly waved hair floating on her shoulders, in a gauzy, shimmery summer dress while Michael stands next to her, laughing at something she says before slowly leaning down and kissing her.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life,” he says, in her mind, and she snorts out loud and berates herself for suddenly regressing to her teenage years.
Nevertheless, she is filled with anticipation as she strolls up Main Street, turning onto Water Street where she seems to remember a number of small boutiques. The first two are shockingly expensive, and there is nothing there for her, but as soon as she walks into the next she knows she has found it.
A floaty chiffon dress in turquoise and sea-green, it sets off her tan beautifully. The owner brings out delicate tan-leather sandals, flat and plain, apart from a tiny enamel and gold turtle on each side.
“You look exquisite,” says the woman in the shop, and Daff almost hugs her, for it is true, she looks quite beautiful. Quite unlike herself. Her eyes are sparkling, her skin is glowing, and she feels excited, as if she is on the brink of something wonderful, as if there is a world of possibilities out there, all of which are waiting for her to just come and grab them.
Back home, Daff spends a long time getting ready. Nan lets her soak in the large claw-footed tub in her own bathroom, and Daff sits at the dressing table, rolling her hair in fuzzy Velcro curlers so it falls in exactly the waves she had imagined.
Just a touch of makeup, some bronzer to bring out her tan, mascara to emphasize her eyes, a slick of clear lipgloss, and it’s true: tonight Daff is no longer a dowdy housewife, frazzled working mother and divorcée. Tonight Daff is a temptress. Beautiful. Exotic. Able to get anything she wants.
“Wow!” Daniel whistles as Daff walks out of her room.
“You look like a princess,” Stella gasps.
“Thank you.” Daff twirls. “You like?”
“You look stunning,” Daniel says. “Could this be for anyone special?” He winks and Daff blushes.
“I just wanted to wear something other than shorts and a T-shirt.”
“Well, if you did want to impress anyone, that would be the dress for it.”
Stella and Lizzie continue looking at Daff in awe as she takes their hands and follows Daniel down the stairs. Just as they reach the bottom the doorbell rings.
“Shall we?”
“I’ll go.” Daniel opens the door to see a small, skinny blond on the doorstep. She is dressed head to toe in black, black Prada sandals on her feet and giant diamond studs in her ears.
“Hi,” she says, clearly nervous. “Is Michael here?”
“Yes.” Daniel opens the door wider and gestures for her to come in, sneaking a raised eyebrow at Daff. “Who shall I say is here for him?”
“I’m Jordana,” she says, and Daff, standing there in all her finery, suddenly feels like bursting into tears.
Jessica has never felt quite this high. There is a buzzing in her ears, and although she is aware that Alexandra is talking to her, she can’t hear anything she says. She tries to stay focused on the door, waiting for the mad rush that will sweep her up and carry her home; and they almost make it, they’re almost there, when Jess feels a heavy hand on her shoulder.
She turns, fear in her eyes and her breath catching in her throat, to look into the eyes of a huge security guard.
“Miss?” he says. “Will you please come with me?”
“What?” Jess tries to shrug him off, puts on a half-hearted act of teenage defiance. “What have I done?”
“If you could just come with me.” He doesn’t let go of her arm, and Alexandra stands there, wide-eyed with terror, as he starts to lead Jess off.
“It’s all a mistake,” Jess says frantically to Alexandra, terrified of what will be said among her friends if they find out. “Call my dad.” And with that she is gone.
“There’s someone here to see you,” Daniel says softly to Michael. “She’s in the hall, waiting. It’s Jordana.”
“Oh ha ha.” Michael snorts. “Very funny.”
“He’s not joking,” Daff says, and one look at the sorrow in her eyes and Michael knows Daniel is serious.
“Oh shit,” he whispers, the color draining from his face. “What is she doing here?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel says. “But you can’t just leave her in the hall. I told her you’d be right there.”
“Oh man,” Michael groans, knowing that his evening is now ruined, knowing that whatever she has come for, it cannot be good. “Okay. Let me go and see her. Daff, can you take my mom to the party? I’ll be there just as soon as I can.”
Daff nods.
“I’m on babysitting duty tonight,” Daniel says. “But I can take the girls out if you need some private time?”
“No, no. It’s fine. This won’t take long.” He sighs long and hard, running his fingers through his hair. “Let me go and see what she wants.”