Matt’s strategy was to run in circles on the boardwalk within the boundaries of Margate. He knew Lauren had to cross through Margate to get back to Longport, so unless he’d already missed her, it was inevitable they would cross paths. Stephanie told him Lauren usually got home around six in the morning, and if it was an hour-and-a-half round-trip run, she should be hitting Margate by a quarter of six.
Pathetically winded, he had slowed to a trot by the time he spotted her in the distance, her brown ponytail waving. He had the luxury of watching her for a few seconds, noting she had, truly, an incredible quiet beauty. She would look great on camera. And then she was in shouting distance.
“Lauren, hey—wait up,” he called, picking up speed to keep up with her. Praying he could summon some unknown reserve of stamina.
She did a double take, then ignored him. Undaunted by her lack of welcome, he ran up beside her.
“What a surprise,” he said.
“Give me a break.”
“What? I’ve been totally out of my running routine since coming here. And I usually run with a partner, so this is great luck.”
She glanced at his feet. “Your sneakers look like they’ve never seen the light of day.”
Busted! He glanced at hers, and the thing was, they seemed pretty new.
“So do yours.”
This seemed to take her aback. “I have to replace mine every few weeks. I run twelve miles a day,” she said.
“Me too! Gets expensive, right?”
“Go away, Matt. I want to be alone.”
He matched her pace, breathing too heavy to talk. She glanced at him and increased her speed. By the time they reached Longport, his heart was pounding so hard, he was certain it was going to give out. He dropped to the ground and looked up at the sky. The light suddenly dimmed, and he thought, This is it. Going out in a blaze of physical and professional failure.
“Are you messing around or are you having a heart attack? You better tell me now before I call an ambulance.”
Lauren loomed over him, blocking the sun.
“I am not messing around, but…I’m not having a heart attack. Just an acute case of humiliation.”
“Are you dizzy?”
“I’m not sure. Is the sky full of dots, or is it just me?”
She knelt next to him. “You just overexerted yourself. You should be more careful. That’s how men your age drop dead.”
Men his age? How old did she think he was? “I’m thirty-four.”
“Exactly.”
Okay, this was more than his already bruised ego could take. He sat up—too fast. He sank back down. People walking by turned to look at him.
She crossed her arms. “I have things to do, but I feel like if I leave you and something happens, I’m being negligent or something.”
“True. I still could have a heart attack. That might be manslaughter.”
“You think this is funny?”
“Lauren, if you think I am amused by this, then you know absolutely nothing about male pride.”
That silenced her. He felt his heart rate begin to normalize and he sat up. She shifted impatiently.
“Can I go now?” she said.
“I just want to say one more thing.”
She sighed and looked around.
“Lauren, before I was a documentarian, I was a war photographer. I’m not a carpetbagger trying to make a buck off your tragedy. I’ve been over there, okay? I worked as an overseas correspondent. I know what those guys went through.”
“You’ve been where?”
“Iraq.”
“Can you eat the butterflies?” Ethan flipped back a page in the photo album, awed by a three-tiered wedding cake decorated with wafer-paper butterflies.
“Yes, the butterflies were edible,” Beth said. “I remember that cake. No one wanted to cut into it because it was so beautiful.”
“Did you really make that?”
“I did,” Beth said. “A long time ago.”
She glanced out the kitchen window at Stephanie, sunning herself on the deck. As much as she enjoyed showing her grandson the photos of her work, she thought that surely there were better things for a six-year-old boy to be doing on a beautiful day on the beach. What was her daughter thinking? Clearly, only about herself.
“Can you make one now?” he asked.
“What?” she asked, distracted.
“One of these cakes. Can you make it again?”
“Oh, honey, it’s a lot of work. And I’m out of practice. I can bake something fun, but probably not that elaborate. Let me think about it.” She patted him on the head. “I’m going to talk to your mother for a minute.”
She opened the sliding-glass door to a wave of humidity. Sunglasses covered Stephanie’s eyes, and Beth wondered if she was even awake. Standing at the foot of the chaise longue, Beth crossed her arms.
“Stephanie, I need to speak with you.”
“What’s up?” Stephanie barely stirred.
“Can you take off those sunglasses, please,” Beth said. Stephanie sighed, removed them for a second, squinted against the glare, then put them back on her face.
“It’s okay, Mom. I listen with my ears.”
“I want to know what your plan is for Ethan this summer. He can’t just sit around all day. The poor kid is so bored, he’s looking through my old catering photographs.”
“Oh, please. You’re the one who dragged him into the mess of boxes upstairs. If he’s looking at your old crap it’s because you’re forcing him to. Don’t blame me.”
Beth had the urge to grab those mirrored lenses off her face and toss them into the pool. You’ve always indulged them, and now…
She pushed Stephanie’s outstretched legs aside and perched on the edge of the chair. “I’m not kidding. This isn’t a vacation for you. You’re still a mother. I don’t care what turmoil you have going on in your personal life. You have responsibilities.”
“Mom, relax. Okay, he has two weeks left of school after this break. When I get back here in the middle of the month, I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, he doesn’t have to be entertained every second. Just chill.”
Shaking her head, Beth retreated to the kitchen.