The next morning the sun shone bright in the clear blue sky, and for the first time in longer than she could remember, Margo woke with a feeling of possibility. She showered and dressed, knowing that today she would have to drive into town for some cold weather clothes. Ash was sending some of her things, and, eventually, she would go back to Charleston to collect the rest and divide their belongings, but not today. Today she needed to sit down, make a plan for herself, and start imagining the rest of her life—something she hadn’t done since she was just a teenager.
She pulled her hair into a ponytail and set the brush down on the bathroom counter. Her diamond solitaire caught the light and sparkled back at her. Margo stared at her rings, which she had worn every day for most of her adult life, even recently, despite what had happened, and she knew that today it was time to take them off. She slid the engagement ring off first, thinking of how young and hopeful she’d been when she’d accepted it, how special she’d felt to wear the princess-cut diamond on the platinum band—how secure. Next she slid the wedding band off, the simple ring that had been a daily symbol of her commitment. And she had committed, hadn’t she? She’d tried, as best she could. Maybe she could have tried harder. But maybe, deep down, she couldn’t have. She’d given Ash all she could give him. And he’d done the same. And in the end, they’d admitted defeat.
She took the rings into the bedroom and set them in the drawer of the bedside table. Then, before she could think about how naked her hand felt, how the emptiness reminded her that something was missing, she grabbed her car keys and drove into town.
The Lantern was closed, but Chip would be there, of course, getting a start on the day before the lunch crowd hit. She parked her car behind his Jeep and walked around to the back screen door, relieved to see her uncle sitting at the bar instead of handling fish. She knocked to give him fair warning, and then let herself in.
“Margo!” Chip looked up, and at the sight of his grin, something shifted in Margo, and she burst into tears. “What’s this about?” he asked in surprise, standing to put his arm around her.
“I don’t know,” she said. But she did know. It was the smile. The warmth. The knowledge that this man was her family, someone who loved her, and that for as long as she’d stayed away, he was always here. It was the sense of loss, of time that could never be taken back. Of a life that hadn’t worked out. A love that had faded and died. “I just…can’t hold it in anymore.”
“Come on,” he said, guiding her onto a bar stool. “Have one on me.”
At this, she laughed. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet. “Got any coffee?”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as Chip poured them each a mug from the pot he had warming in the kitchen, but the tears were steady and warm on her cheeks.
Chip walked back into the room and handed her one of his sturdy white cotton napkins. “Creamers are in the bowl.”
“I’m sorry,” Margo said, as she continued to cry.
“Hey, this is what I’m here for.” He gave her a wink as he set her mug down. “I figured you’d come talk to me when you were ready.”
Margo wrapped her hands around the steaming mug. “Ash and I split up.”
God, that sounded strange. So…permanent.
Chip didn’t look surprised. “Figured it was something like that.”
“Really?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You come to town, without your husband, and you’re renting a cottage. I hear you’re decorating Dottie Joyce’s house, too.”
Margo didn’t need to ask where he’d heard that bit of information.
“And you’ve been hanging around Eddie Boyd again.”
“We’re just friends,” she said stiffly, recalling Eddie’s words the day before. The hurt in his eyes when he turned to go. The way his smile fell when he looked over her shoulder. “And the fact that you know this is what I hate about this town. Everyone knows everything.”
Chip shrugged. “Only because most of them care.”
Margo frowned. She hadn’t thought of it that way. “Ash was cheating on me. You know that too?”
“That bastard.” Chip swore under his breath. “Need me to punch him for you?”
“It’s tempting,” Margo said with a little smile.
They lapsed into silence, sipping their coffee. Finally, Chip spoke. “Can I tell you something?”
She wasn’t sure she had much of a choice. Or that she would like what he was about to say. She looked up. “Sure.”
Chip seemed to hesitate. “The day you got married, your mother said to me, if you were even half as happy as she was, then that’s all she could hope for.”
The floodgates opened again. Tears flowers down her cheek, over her mouth, faster than she could wipe at them. “I don’t talk about my parents much,” she explained, when she was able to talk.
“I know,” Chip said. “Sometimes I envied you. Getting away. Not having to face the reminders. But it’s nice to keep them alive, too. Every time I walk by the pier, I remember the time your mom and I raced to the edge, and she slipped and fell in. She must have been only ten. When I reached down to pull her up, she dragged me in with her.” He laughed, then stopped abruptly. “I miss her.” He looked suddenly so pained, that it was Margo’s turn to dry her tears and set a hand on his wrist.
“Why do you think she said that, Chip? On my wedding day?” Margo looked at him carefully.
“Honestly? I think she was worried about you.”
“She never let on to me!” Instead, she had fluffed her dress, handed her the bouquet, and told her she looked beautiful.
“It wouldn’t have been fair of her.” Chip glanced at her sidelong. “Sometimes we parents have to just watch and worry in silence.”
“What was she worried about?” Margo asked, but she had a feeling she knew.
“I think…I think she wanted to be sure you were following your heart.”
Margo nodded. Of course. She sipped her coffee, thinking about her mother, her years in that old house that would soon belong to someone else, and she thought of this town, and the people in it, and the memories that were all connected, all shared by so many, right here in Oyster Bay.
Her mother had been right to worry. Margo hadn’t followed her heart. She had run from it.
Something she wouldn’t do again.
“Thanks for the talk, Chip,” she said, stepping down from the stool.
“You know where to find me,” he said.
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “I do.”
She walked outside, into the sunshine, wishing she had her sunglasses to hide the redness in her eyes, but then she thought about what Chip had said. She couldn’t run anymore. She couldn’t hide. Her secrets would be exposed, but she was safe here. She was home.
“Margo!”
She turned to see Dottie coming toward her at a purposeful pace, suddenly doubting her sentimental feelings.
“Dottie! You’ll have to excuse my allergies…” And now her eyes were flitting and her cheeks were burning. It was no use trying to deny the truth. She’d try to dodge it instead. “I was thinking we should turn your sewing room into a space for the birds. It’s right off the kitchen and—”
“No.” Dottie’s tone was decisive. “I have a better idea. Let’s put the birds in my husband’s study. The room is bigger and the windows let in more light.”
“Are you sure?” Margo asked. “I thought he wasn’t fond of them.”
“He wasn’t. And that’s why it’s the perfect place for them.” Dottie took Margo’s elbow and leaned in close to whisper, “You may have heard the stories about him being lost at sea on a fishing trip.”
A rather strange story, indeed, Margo had always thought.
“The truth of the matter is that he’s been living in Albany for the past twenty-nine years with a woman named Joan.”
Margo blinked. “I didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t know. I made sure no one knew. But I thought you might understand.” She gave Margo a kind smile.
“I do understand,” Margo replied, for once happy to confide in the woman.
Dottie patted her arm and then released it. “You’ll be fine, my dear. Take it from me. And I will personally be sure to spread the word that—” Her lips curved into a smile as Margo’s eyes widened. “That you are the best interior designer in town and that everyone should use your services.”
Margo smiled. “Thank you, Dottie.”
She smiled as she turned to go. Oyster Bay was full of surprises. At every turn.
***
Every Wednesday night and every other Saturday night. That was the deal Bridget and Ryan had agreed to when it came to sharing custody of Emma. Of course, there was the splitting of holidays and the sharing of special events. And the occasional time that they didn’t stick to the calendar, like today, when Ryan offered to take Emma bowling to make up for last Saturday night.
“Daddy’s here!” Emma cried, pulling back from her perch at the front window to run to the door.
Bridget dragged herself from the kitchen, trying to muster up some false cheer for her daughter’s sake. Over the years she tried not to let her differences with Ryan show, but it certainly wasn’t always easy.
She turned the locks and opened the door, Emma right at her side. Ryan stood on the stoop in a navy sweater and jeans, his brown hair a little tousled, a day’s worth of stubble gracing his jaw. In other words, he looked good.
Bridget’s mouth thinned. “Emma’s all ready to go,” she said tightly.
“Great,” Ryan said, stepping into the small foyer. Bridget reached for Emma’s backpack, which included healthy snacks like apples and some whole wheat crackers, though she very much doubted this would stop Ryan from loading her up on sugary drinks and ice cream and hot dogs. “Actually, before we go, I was hoping to talk.”
No. Not this again.
“Ryan…”
“Five minutes. Please.”
Bridget stifled a sigh. There was no avoiding it. He was her co-parent and he wanted to talk. What was it going to be? A lady friend moving in with him? A little lean on cash? An engagement?
Her hand shook as she set the backpack back on the floor.
“Emma, honey, why don’t you run to your room and get some coloring books for the car while I talk to Daddy?” She watched her daughter go until she had no choice but to slide her eyes back to Ryan. He was watching her intently. Time to brace herself for it. “What’s up?” She folded her arms across her chest, wishing that this space was a little bigger.
“The restaurant’s been doing really well lately.” Ryan grinned. “We’re even thinking of building a second location. Something different. A fish and chips type of place.”
Bridget stared flatly at Ryan. Was this seriously what he had come to talk to her about? His restaurant again? He knew how she felt about that place. If she didn’t resent it when they were married, she sure as hell did once they were divorced. It wasn’t just a drain on their finances, or a distraction from their family, it was the source of endless arguments and bitter fights, and eventually, the reason that all their dreams—or her dreams at least—had ended.
“That’s great for you, Ryan,” she managed.
“It is. And…I have you to thank for that.”
Bridget’s eyes popped. “Excuse me?”
“It’s because of you that I have what I have. You helped me follow my dreams. You sacrificed a lot.”
Bridget’s eyes welled with tears, but she looked down quickly at her socked feet. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. Not now. Not after all the heartache he’d caused her. At some point, it had to end.
“I know I ruined our family. I know I wasn’t always fair to you.”
Oh my God, why was he saying this? Now, after all these years? It was too late. Far too late. “It’s ancient history,” she said quickly.
“Maybe so. But I owe you, Bridget. I owe you for a lot. And I want you to have this.”
He handed her a piece of paper, folded in half, and it took Bridget a moment to realize that it was a check. “What? No.” She shook her head, daring to look up at him. “Don’t you need this for the second place?”
He shook his head. “Take it. It’s time for you to follow your dreams.”
Her dreams. She hadn’t even dared to dream, not about anything other than a real house for her daughter. A real home. Her home.
Bridget let out a shaky breath, and opened the check, barely registering the sum that was scrawled out in Ryan’s familiar handwriting.
“Ryan.” She clamped a hand to her mouth, no longer caring that the tears were falling and that she couldn’t stop them if she tried. “It’s too much.”
“It’s not too much. It’s what you earned. I can’t ever make it up to you,” he said. “But I’d like to think that maybe this will help a little. Even if it is about eight years too late.”
Bridget swallowed the lump that had settled in her throat. “Thank you, Ryan.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and for the first time in so long, she saw a glimpse of the boy she’d once fallen in love with, the one with the sweet comments and the nice laugh and the good heart.
“Mommy!” Emma exclaimed as she ran back into the foyer, arms full of princess-themed coloring books. “Why are you crying? Are you sad that I’m going bowling with Daddy and you can’t come?”
“Not sad, honey.” Bridget smiled. “I’m happy.”
“You’re welcome to join us,” Ryan said, taking Emma’s hand.
It was another step, an invitation that was in her hands, and her answer would determine if she would stay rooted in the past, or move forward.
“Please come, Mommy!”
Bridget thought of the laundry that was piling up, the stack of bills she had planned to pay, and the vacuuming that needed to be done. And she thought of the man who had broken her heart and her dreams and left her to struggle as a single mother for eight years while he did everything he pleased. And she looked into the eyes of the man who was standing here now, the father of her child, asking her to put it all behind them.
“I’d like that,” she said.
Ryan grinned, and for the first time in longer than she could remember, she smiled back.
Tomorrow she would do the laundry and clean the kitchen and worry about Mimi and find that field trip permission slip. Or maybe…maybe she’d invite her sisters for brunch tomorrow. And for once, she wouldn’t allow herself to think of all the practical things she could be doing with her time instead.