EIGHT
civilized
ansley
Our Peachtree Bluff neighbors had brought sixty-two casseroles since we got the news that Sloane’s husband Adam was MIA. That meant it had been sixty-two casseroles since I had told Jack it wasn’t the right time for us, that, with all I had on my plate, I couldn’t commit to a relationship too. As I stared at all those uneaten casseroles in my deep freeze in the garage, I could poignantly feel every second that had passed since my first love, the one I had met in this very town, told me that he had waited long enough for me, that he had put his life on hold for thirty years and that was more than generous.
And now, he was gone. Well, gone from my life, anyway. The fact that Caroline, Sloane, Emerson, and Vivi were getting ready to embark on their drop-Vivi-off-at-camp-and-rehabilitate- Sloane mission on Jack’s boat meant that he wasn’t gone from Peachtree Bluff. I had to admit that soothed me. The thought that he was still here but not in my life did not soothe me.
On the bright side, my mother’s episodes of confusion, though more frequent, tended to last a shorter time. We were hoping we could attribute her mental inconsistencies to her pain medication usage after the car wreck and broken ankle that had brought her here to me.
On the other bright side, it seemed like, despite my incredible skepticism, Caroline and James were getting along splendidly and Emerson was well on her way to being totally in love with Mark. Two out of three happy daughters wasn’t bad.
“Caroline!” I called, walking up the stairs into the guesthouse.
“In the kitchen, Mom,” she called back.
I loved this guesthouse. I had made it a sanctuary from the real world. Before all the girls had come home, I would come out here for a couple of days and feel like I was on a mini-vacation. It was less formal than the main house. Both floors had wall-to-wall seagrass carpet, marble mosaic tile in the bathrooms, and pale sky-blue walls.
As I walked into the kitchen/great room area I admired the beaded chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling. I loved the exposed beams in here, the casual, rustic air they lent.
“Do you need help packing, sweetie?” I asked.
It was a thinly veiled offer. The truth was, since our dinner a few days earlier, all I had been able to think about was Jack and that he had stayed away from me for six weeks—which probably meant he could do it forever. It was not my favorite thought.
Jack. I hadn’t imagined he would let me go like this. After all these years, all these secrets, all the life we nearly shared, I thought he would understand. So I was caught in a tangled web between sorrow and anger and acceptance. Some moments I could convince myself that his giving me two of my three daughters, keeping my secret for all those years, and never forcing his way into our lives was enough. Then, in the next moment, I would think he was being selfish and insensitive in not being more compassionate or understanding about my predicament with Sloane.
“We’re all ready to go tomorrow,” Caroline said. She was spraying the kitchen counter. She looked around to make sure no one was in earshot and then whispered, “I’m so nervous about Vivi being gone for an entire month.”
I nodded. I remembered the feeling. “I know, sweetheart, but she’s going to have the best time. She will learn so much and make friends she will have forever.”
She shrugged. “I know. It’s just the selfish part of me that wants her here.”
“It might be good. You and James could use this time to yourselves.” I paused. “Well, I mean, yourselves and Preston.”
She laughed. “I know what you mean. Who would have thought a baby would be easier to manage than an eleven-year-old?”
Her face fell slightly.
“You OK?” I asked.
She bit her lip. “I’m all over the place. I’m happy and then I’m sad and then I’m mad. It’s a never-ending rotation.”
“It probably will be for a while.” I took the bottle from her and continued spraying while she fluffed the pillows on the couch.
“So, Jack’s boat?” I asked what I hoped was casually.
“Yes,” she said. “You know. Fifty-eight Huckins, fully restored thanks to you.”
“How did you swing that?”
She shrugged. “I simply explained I had my captain’s license and needed to save my sister.” She paused. “It was actually way easier than I thought.”
Probably because he didn’t want to tell his daughter no. Carter had been terrible at that too. I felt that stabbing pain around my heart. It’s not a new revelation, necessarily, but it seems that whenever there is one loss, the others are felt more poignantly. Watching what Sloane was going through, seeing how she was suffering, brought back the memories of losing Carter so fiercely that, at times, it was hard to breathe.
“Was he surprised you had your captain’s license?” I asked.
Caroline hadn’t gotten her driver’s license until right before her son Preston, who was now three months old, was born. She insisted that no one needed a driver’s license in New York City. But in Peachtree Bluff, her sisters had finally refused to drive her, so she had no choice.
“I don’t think he believed me. But I said, ‘Jack, you and I both know that driving a yacht is so much more civilized than driving a car.’ ” She smiled.
I shook my head. “Caroline, for goodness’ sake. Only you would ask a man to borrow his pride and joy.”
“His pride and joy named after my mother.” She winked at me.
Then it hit me. “If you’re taking the boat, where’s Jack going to stay?”
Her look revealed nothing, but I felt it. She knew something she wasn’t telling me. “Mother, I have absolutely no idea. I’m not Jack’s travel agent.”
“Gransley!” I heard from down the hall. Caroline’s dark-haired little clone came in, breathless and red-faced.
“What, darling?”
Vivi was wearing her tennis skirt and tank top. For a moment, I panicked. I had dropped her off at the courts. Had I forgotten to pick her up? But then I remembered James had. It’s amazing how it all comes back to you, the minutiae of raising children, of coordinating their schedules, of remembering who needs to be where when. “I saw a moving truck pull in next door! Who do you think our new neighbor is? Do you think they have kids?”
Caroline turned too quickly and walked into her room. Despite the positive advances, it was still only her room. James’s room was in the house on the corner.
“Caroline!” I called after her. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing, Mom. I just need to finish packing.”
I walked outside, deciding it was no use hounding her. I went upstairs in the main house and turned into my room. I swiped some blush on my cheeks, reapplied my lipstick, and ran a brush through my short, chestnut hair, realizing I needed to get my roots touched up soon. I was fortunate not to be completely gray, even at fifty-eight, but I still had a few intruders to keep at bay. I hoped I had many more years before I had to start fully coloring my hair. I couldn’t fathom what it would be like to look in the mirror and see a blonde. Maybe I’ll look like Emerson. I laughed out loud. With her dewy skin and legs up to her neck? Nope. She was the daughter who had finally looked like me, but never again would I look like Emerson.
I turned around in the mirror a couple of times, examining my white shirtdress and belt around my waist. No visible stains despite making homemade Play-Doh with AJ and Taylor that morning. Not too wrinkled. I smoothed my hands down my front, turned, and screamed.
Caroline was standing in the doorway, watching me with an amused smirk. “You have a date or something?”
I scowled at her, inadvertently remembering how Jack was gone and how I’d been the one to let him walk away. I’d been avoiding the dock like the plague, just in case he was still in Peachtree, afraid of running into him like we were teenagers again after a stupid fight. But we weren’t teenagers. And this fight wasn’t stupid.
“No,” I said. “You know I’ve been wanting to decorate the house next door forever. I’m going to run over and introduce myself.”
I was so grateful I had picked up a loaf of banana bread at the farmers’ market. I had planned on bribing Sloane to eat with it, but I’d take it to the new neighbor, schmooze a bit. Sloane wasn’t that thin . . . Yes, she was. I was an awful mother.
Caroline rolled her eyes. “Tactful, Mom. Don’t even let them get the first piece of furniture off the truck before you assault them with your portfolio and baked goods.”
Had I said that out loud?
“I’m not even going to mention it,” I lied. I might casually slip in what I did for a living and the vision I had for the house. But that was a far cry from pulling out my portfolio. Although, if I happened to leave a copy of my latest spread in Coastal Living . . . No, no. Rein it in, Ansley.
“You know, Mom,” Caroline said. “I think you should wait a few minutes. I need to run to the store to pick up our last few provisions.”
I shrugged. “So? James has Preston, and Sloane has the boys on the beach. Vivi is certainly fine if I go next door.”
“But you could wait a few more—”
I stepped out the door and turned, my look stopping her mid-sentence.
“What have you done?” I hissed.
She gave me her most innocent look, the one that was so innocent it wasn’t innocent at all. She put her hand over her heart and said sweetly, “Mom, I haven’t done a single thing.”
I felt eyes on me, and I knew, even before I turned, exactly whose they were. What I didn’t know is what those eyes living right next door meant.