“I’m not surprised you’ve got a knack for this,” Kelly said. “I told you Amelia’s the one who taught me how to do it, and her son, Nick, was an incredible sketch artist. It’s in your blood.”
Funny, she had always believed being a shrewd attorney was in her blood. And she had worked hard to fulfill that destiny. Not anymore. Nature versus nurture.
“I want to show you how to grout,” Kelly said. Grout was the mortar that filled the space between the pieces, creating an additional bond to the glue.
“Sure. Let’s do it.”
Kelly walked her over to a small hutch and pulled out a few pieces, showing her the difference between a finished grouted mosaic and ones that were not grouted.
“It serves a technical purpose but also a visual one.”
Marin nodded.
“Choosing the right color grout matters. When in doubt, go with your lightest option. You can always make it darker. Once you use black or dark blue, you’re stuck with it.”
Kelly dragged a big bucket to the side of the table, breathing so hard Marin jumped in to help her. “I already mixed this. It’s pretty simple. Just add water until you get the consistency of mayonnaise. Then let it sit for fifteen minutes. But this batch is ready to go. So watch. I’m going to grout one of these small pieces that I have sitting around because I’m not at this stage yet for Amelia’s.”
She pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and told Marin if she ever got grout on her bare hands, she should rinse them in apple cider vinegar.
“My go-to tools. This is a float,” she said, showing her a flat metal base with a handle. “And this is a trowel.” She picked up a metal tool that looked like a cake knife without the serrations.
Kelly dropped a glob of the grout right on top of the mosaic.
“You just smear it all over? Don’t you just go in between the cracks?”
“No—you have to cover the piece and then wipe away the excess. I know it looks strange to do it this way, but trust me.” She smeared the thick gray mixture with the float, working right to left and then top to bottom. “Don’t leave any gaps.”
She started coughing and had to put down the piece to retrieve tissues out of the pocket of her apron. Marin gasped when she saw them spotted with red.
“Kelly! Jesus. You take it easy. We don’t have to do this now.”
Kelly shook her head. “I’m fine. This has to sit for ten minutes anyway.”
They moved to a couch by the window. Marin, shaken, couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“How are things going with your baby daddy? Have you heard from him since he was here?” Kelly said finally.
Marin shook her head. “Well, he might not technically be the father of the baby. And no, I haven’t heard from him.”
“I’m bummed I was away and didn’t get to meet him. Bad timing.”
“Yeah. Timing is everything.” Especially when you get pregnant by accident. “I have a sonogram later today.”
“Marin, have you considered it might be time for you to go back to New York? It seems like you have some pretty important things to take care of. You better not be waiting for me to kick.”
“Kelly! I am not waiting for you to…kick. That’s not it,” Marin said.
Kelly cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “You were all set to leave after the Fourth of July—actually, correction: you weren’t even going to stay the full first week. Then you found out I was sick and suddenly you decided to stay the whole summer.”
Marin shook her head. “It’s partly because I wanted to be supportive of you and Amelia. But it’s not entirely unselfish. I like being here. It’s helping me regroup.”
Kelly nodded. “Regrouping is good. Can’t argue with that. But at some point, you have to get your shit figured out. You have someone else to think about now,” she said, glancing at Marin’s belly.
“I know. I’ll go back to New York when the summer is over.”
“So that’s the mark for you? End of summer?”
“Yes. Labor Day.”
Kelly’s breathing was so strained Marin felt afraid.
“Are you in pain?”
“I don’t feel great, I can tell you that.”
“Is it…like, your chest hurts?”
“Yes, that’s part of it. But it’s more than that. While we were away, Amelia insisted I get checked in Boston. They found bone metastases, which the doctor here didn’t see or didn’t mention. The pain from that is hard to treat.”
“Isn’t there anything they can do?”
“I’m taking the meds. It barely helps and when I take too much it makes me loopy. I hate not thinking clearly. The doctor wants me to go in for radiotherapy next week. So we’ll see.”
Someone knocked at the door.
“Who is it?” Marin called out.
“Paul. Open up. I come bearing gifts.”
Marin unlocked the door for him and he walked in with a plate of brownies.
“What do you know—we were just discussing pain management,” Kelly said.
“What’s my excuse for eating them?” he said, sitting at the table and moving Marin’s mosaic to make room for the plate.
“You have none,” Kelly deadpanned.
Paul took a bite of one and passed it to Marin.
“She can’t eat pot brownies, Paul. She’s pregnant,” Kelly said.
“Pregnant! Mazel tov. Who’s the lucky guy?”
“It’s a long story,” Marin said. She checked the time on her phone. Only two hours until her sonogram appointment. She had to find her mother and get going.
“Good luck!” Kelly called out as she left. Closing the door, Marin heard Paul say, “It’s a little late for luck. She’s already knocked up.”
Marin heard Kelly’s throaty laugh, and she smiled.
Blythe sat outside at the table planting lettuce seeds in trays. She decided to try the varieties Warren had given her. She had considered texting this to him, but she held back. While they’d spoken on the phone a few times since dinner, he must have sensed her reticence because he did not ask her out again. Or maybe he just didn’t feel a connection. Either way, it didn’t bother her and she had to read that as evidence that she simply wasn’t ready to meet anyone new.
As always in times of stress, she turned away from her heart and toward her green thumb. In two weeks, the seeds she was pressing into little beds of soil would sprout up an inch or two, and she would transplant the leaflings to the garden.
Her phone rang, startling her. She jumped up to find it in her bag and saw the incoming number was Kip’s.
“Hello?” she said. She squeezed her fist, her nails digging into her palm. By now, he had to have located the shoe box. The question was whether he’d looked inside before he packed it up and mailed it to her. No matter what Marin said about him knowing all along, seeing proof of an affair in black and white would be difficult for anyone to take. Ever since asking him to mail it to her, she’d second-guessed herself.
“How’s Marin?” he asked.