“You don’t say?” Kelly narrowed her eyes.
“It’s amazing that Nadine should arrive this summer just as you’ve closed the inn for business and just as I’ve been thinking so much about how I’d love to take that large property off your hands. Nadine agrees it makes perfect sense. I’m prepared to make quite a generous offer.”
“Um, Sandra—can you excuse Nadine and me for a minute?” Kelly stood, her chair making a loud noise against the tiled floor.
Sandra smiled graciously. “Of course.”
When Sandra was out of the room—though probably not out of earshot—Kelly turned to Nadine and slammed her hand down on the table.
“Who the fuck do you think you are to start negotiating the sale of the house? It’s our home.”
“It’s my family home—has been for generations. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m the last of the generations. The buck stops with me, Kelly. Not with you—me. Amelia’s daughter. Not her lover.”
“We’re married. Your legal claim to the house does not supersede mine.”
“This isn’t about legality, Kelly. It’s a practical issue. Sandra Crowe will pay enough for the house that my mother won’t have to worry about money for the rest of her life.”
“She’s not worried about money. We’re doing fine.”
“It’s also about doing what’s right. The house is part of my family legacy. The conversation about what happens to it is one that involves me. Now, I know you’ve had it pretty easy since you waltzed into town that summer, torpedoed my family, and never left, which meant I had to leave. But I’m back, and I’m not going anywhere until this business with the house is settled.”
“There’s no business to settle. Your mother loves that house. If she moves somewhere to live alone, it will be the death of her.”
“Well, she won’t be alone. She has you, doesn’t she?” Nadine picked up her handbag and pulled it over her shoulder. She looked at Rachel. “And don’t you get any ideas. I don’t care how many test tubes my brother jerked off into. You have no part of this—understand?”
She walked out the door, calling back to Sandra that they would talk soon.
Blythe was at the beach when the call came.
The day was hotter than usual. She sat in a folding plastic chair, wearing a new turquoise-blue bathing suit purchased at a small shop on Commercial Street and a big striped hat she’d borrowed from Marin.
Today, she’d managed to find the “straight people” beach. She had not understood the various strata of beach geography and a few days ago had accidentally planted herself in the lesbian section, where she soon realized she was one of the few women wearing a top. Farther down, the gay men congregated, and she was even more out of place there. When she returned to the house, frazzled, Amelia graciously drew her a map on a paper towel.
The buzz of her cell phone startled her. She hadn’t even meant to pack it in her beach bag. She didn’t think she had reception at the beach and had biked the short distance thinking she was giving herself an hour or so of being completely out of touch. Frankly, she needed it.
“Hello?” She fumbled with the phone as a strong breeze swept over her and she had to hold on to her hat.
“Blythe, it’s me. I’m in town.”
Kip!
“You’re here? In Provincetown?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe it,” she said, more to herself than to him.
“Well, I want to see Marin. And you said you needed to talk to me, so we can take care of that while I’m here. What’s your availability this morning?” Kip, always to the point. Always goal-oriented. He no doubt had his entire Provincetown visit scheduled to the last minute, the agenda filed with his secretary back in Philadelphia.
Blythe tried to stand and instead sank further into the sand, the chair folding in on itself.
“Shit!” she said.
“What?”
“Nothing. Hold on.”
How could she be so unprepared for this moment? Had she really thought he would refuse to come? They were going to be grandparents.
“Where are you staying?” she asked, stalling.
“The Sutter Hotel. Where are you staying?”
“The Beach Rose Inn.”
“I saw that online but it’s supposed to be closed this season.”
“Long story,” she said. Where should they meet? Should she have him just come down to the beach? She wanted to see him immediately. But she looked a mess—windblown, no makeup, dressed in just a bathing suit. No, for this conversation she needed to be pulled together. She was delivering extremely difficult news. And faced with the task, she wished she had told him the truth about Marin’s paternity before this—any time before this. It would be hard enough for him to deal with the fact that Marin was not his flesh and blood, but now that unfortunate reality also extended to the new baby.
Blythe took a deep breath. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, Blythe,” he said, and she could imagine the taut, impatient line of his jaw. “Can you meet in an hour? Pick a place on that main street in town. We can have coffee.”
Where? At Joe, so every coffee klatch in town would overhear their messy personal business? No, thanks.
“Actually, there’s a better place. Less crowded.” She told him how to get to Pilgrims’ First Landing Park, at the westernmost end of Commercial Street. The park—a monument, technically—had stone benches and grass and it overlooked the jetty. The fact that she could pick a place like the park—not just the obvious coffee shop—made her feel pleased, like she was a local.
“I’ll see you in an hour,” he said.
She pressed the phone to her chest.
Rachel, with her marching orders from Kelly, did not want to waste any time. She found Luke at the pool.
He didn’t notice her at first. She sat on a chaise longue while he did laps, feeling, yes, like a stalker. She hadn’t even bothered to ring the doorbell—she just walked right around to the back of the house. Questionable behavior? Maybe. But she couldn’t wait another minute to follow Kelly’s advice. Kelly was the boss. She’d been with the love of her life for three decades; surely, she had some relationship wisdom.
When he finally noticed her sitting there, he climbed out of the pool.
“Hey—sorry to intrude.”
“What’s up?” he asked, toweling off. Maybe she was paranoid, but he did not seem happy to see her. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea! Rachel, what were you thinking?
She had to work really hard not to look at his body.
“I just wanted to talk to you for a sec.”
He sat down on the edge of the chair next to her. After an excruciating minute of silence, she knew she had two choices: say something, or slink off and never come back. In that moment, it was actually a tough decision.
“So, I just wanted to, um, say something,” she managed.
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to say something first.”
Okay, this was a curveball she hadn’t expected.