Running home after work, the sidewalk damp from an afternoon sun shower, Lauren nearly stepped on a slug but was able to jump over it at the last second.
She used to think slugs were snails that had left their shells, and then she learned that a slug had never had a shell to begin with. Looking at that soft, vulnerable creature, she felt a kinship; just when she’d been thinking the situation with the documentary was under control, she’d heard the news that another film project was out there. Would it never end?
The worst part was the realization that the past four years of pretending the outside world did not exist had given her a false sense of control. She was not a snail who had suddenly lost her shell; like that slug, she’d never had one. So now what?
There had been a time when she felt passionate about journalism. She had believed in discovering facts, in finding and telling a story. But Lauren, you know the real story. The truth.
Yes, she did. And she couldn’t imagine sharing it. Not for any reason. Not for anyone.
“You’re home!” her mother said, smiling as Lauren walked into the kitchen. “I tried calling but you didn’t answer your phone.”
“Busy day,” Lauren said, checking the time. Maybe she should talk to Matt now, before she lost her nerve. Before she changed her mind and had the urge to run away again.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. Why don’t you take a quick shower? We’re having company for dinner. Neil Hanes.”
“Oh, Mom, I’m not up for that tonight.”
Her mother’s face fell. “I’d really like for you to be here.”
Lauren shook her head. When would her mother stop pushing?
“Sorry, but it’s going to have to be just you and Stephanie and Dad.”
“Stephanie is taking Ethan to a movie.”
“But Dad’s going to be here, right?”
Her mother hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
Lauren felt a pang of alarm. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Oh, just a little difference of opinion.”
“About what?”
“The past. The present. The future.” Beth gave an awkward laugh.
Lauren leaned on the counter. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Sometimes people just need time apart.”
Time apart? Before this summer, Lauren couldn’t remember her parents spending so much as a night apart in three decades. Was their marriage in jeopardy? When had the problems started? If there were signs of trouble, she had been too caught up in her own life, too removed, to notice.
“Is this about the money issues?”
“Hon, this isn’t for you to worry about. Your father and I will figure it out.”
But she was worried. She realized, now that she was paying attention, how tired her mother looked. She had aged in the past year. Of course, she was pushing sixty, although in Lauren’s mind’s eye, her mother was still a young woman. But that wasn’t it; there was a weariness in her eyes, a tension to the set of her mouth.
“Okay, I’ll stay for dinner.”
Howard walked into the house sandy and wearing his bathing trunks at a quarter to six, fifteen minutes before Neil was supposed to arrive.
“Where’ve you been all day?” Beth asked, sounding more confrontational than she’d intended.
“I told you I was going to the Kleins’. Jack and I hit the beach for a few hours.”
“No, actually, you didn’t mention it. Can you shower? Neil Hanes is coming for dinner.”
Howard raised an eyebrow. “Second dinner here in as many weeks. Is he showing up for our daughter or the free meals?”
Beth took the marinated chicken out of the refrigerator. “Can you, for one night, put your cynicism on hold?”
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Lauren called from somewhere in the house.
Beth smiled. There was nothing Howard could say to upset her tonight. She was doing the right thing. She could feel it.
“I wonder if Neil is as interested in real estate as his father is,” Howard said, heading up the stairs. “I’ll have to ask him at dinner.”
Her smile disappeared.
It had been a long time since Lauren had cooked dinner and even longer since she’d actually enjoyed it. Most days after working at Nora’s, she didn’t have the energy for more than takeout. But tonight her mother had bought the ingredients for an heirloom tomato and feta salad, probably from one of Ina Garten’s recipes, and Lauren had stood by her mother’s side in the kitchen dicing the feta and mixing the olive oil, white wine vinegar, and kosher salt.
Her mother barbecued chicken and served it with corn on the cob.
“Beth, this is just outrageously delicious,” Neil said.
“Oh, please. It’s so simple!” Beth beamed.
The sun set. Beth lit the citronella candles, and in quiet moments, the only sound was the ocean. Lauren tried not to think about Matt or the movie that someone else was trying to make.
“The Lascoffs consider their place a teardown,” Neil said. Lauren’s father nodded in vigorous agreement. It seemed all Neil wanted to talk about was real estate. Maybe her fear that her mother was colluding with Neil for a setup was just paranoia.
“Absolutely. With what it would cost to renovate? I remember when the place went up. Mid-eighties. It seemed so modern at the time.”
“But this place? Now, this is timeless,” Neil said. “I told Beth I’m thinking of buying out here.”
Lauren and her mother locked eyes.
Howard turned to Beth, then back to Neil. “Oh? She didn’t mention it.”
“Yeah, I mean, I’m mostly West Coast at this point. But I love the summers here. You know my parents might sell their house in Philly and move to Malibu? So I definitely want a house on the East Coast somewhere.”
“Malibu is fantastic. Can’t beat the weather. Personally, I prefer Florida,” Howard said. “So, who knows? Maybe we can work something out so everyone’s happy.”
Neil raised his glass to Howard’s.