Nora woke up Sunday morning and noticed the quiet in the house first. The rooms sounded empty, echoing back her own footsteps, the closing of closet doors, the opening of drawers. She pulled on a robe and then sat in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee and waiting for the sun to rise.
Ben had stopped by to pick up the kids the night before, all businesslike and distant. He’d stood in the foyer, exchanging the bare minimum of words with her while the kids grabbed their backpacks. A new wall had gone up between them after her admission the other day about the miscarriage and their decision to proceed with the divorce. She kissed both kids, reminded Sarah to read some of her chapter book and told Jake to be sure to bring home his art project. Nora shut the door before she could see them get in the car. And before any of them saw her tears.
Her mother had texted this morning before church, saying the bakery was going to be slow today because of some unexpected road construction that would shut down the street for most of the day so Nora didn’t need to come in. It was a rare day off—at exactly the wrong time. She needed to stay busy, to keep her focus on anything other than the gnawing hole in her life.
She called Magpie, surprised when her little sister answered on the first ring. “Are you turning into a morning person?”
“God, I hope not. I just had trouble sleeping last night. Not used to my own bed, I guess.”
“I know what you mean. It was weird being here the first few days but now I think I’m getting used to Aunt Mary’s house. Believe it or not, but I got up, accomplished nothing more than drinking a cup of coffee, and crawled back under the covers.”
“Okay, the Apocalypse is surely on its way now. That’s the third sign.”
“Hey, I’m not that bad.”
“Nora, the last time you slept past six in the morning, you had the flu. And even then you got your shit together and came to work to do a consult at ten that morning. You’re like superhuman.”
“Hardly.” A superhuman woman wouldn’t be in the boat she was in. A superhuman woman would get dressed and out the door even when she was depressed as hell and the future looked as bleak as the sky on a winter day. A superhuman woman wouldn’t be on the edge of a sob every minute of the day. “Ma said the bakery isn’t busy today and I was wondering…do you think your friend would mind if we went back to that house in Truro? It’s a nice day for November, and I doubt we’ll get many more of those for the next few months. Do you want to come with me?”
Nora told herself she just wanted to walk the beach one more time before the cold settled in for a months-long stay. That this was about rejuvenation, not about finding out what if.
“I’m not up to going today,” Magpie said. “I’m sure it’s totally cool for you to use the house today. The spare key is under the terra-cotta planter on the front porch.”
“You’re not up for an adventure? Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m…I’m tired. Lots of writing this week, that’s all. Enjoy the beach for both of us, okay?”
Magpie sounded not at all like her usual energetic, wild self. Nora debated running over to her sister’s apartment and checking on her, but just the thought of caring for one more person made Nora want to stay in bed for a month. She’d stop by after she went to Truro. Whatever was bothering Magpie couldn’t be that serious anyway. Her sister lived a life that could be a Bob Marley song. No commitments, no worries, no stress. “Are you sure, Mags? It won’t be the same without you.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. I have some work to get done anyway. And you’re right, this is way too early for me to be up.” Magpie’s laughter was closer to the carefree sister Nora knew well. “I’m probably going to need a nap later. Maybe two.”
“All right. Well, just let me know if you need anything later.” Nora lingered in bed for a little while after she hung up the phone. She had to force herself to stay at first, because everything inside her said, Get shit done. Laundry, dishes, bill paying, robbing a bank…
Instead, she took a long, hot shower and spent time drying and curling her hair, leaving it down instead of in its customary ponytail, and then put on some makeup. She slid into some jeans that fit more loosely than they had a couple weeks ago. Apparently becoming homeless and getting divorced was a good way to diet.
She let the dog out, setting him up with a couple of toys and a chewy bone, and then drove to Truro on deserted roads. Most people were either sleeping or in church, and with the tourist season for the Cape a couple months in the past, the hook end of the state had a much-needed breather. As she drove, she fiddled with the radio, if only to let the noise distract her from her ever-churning mind, filled with questions she couldn’t answer—What am I going to do about a long-term living situation? What am I going to do about Ben? Are Sarah and Jake going to be okay through all this? Am I going to be okay?
When the B-52’s classic “Love Shack” came on, Nora bumped up the volume. The song pulsed in the car, the beat thumping against the floor and the seats. When the B-52’s were pounding on the door, wanting to get in on the party inside, Nora turned up the radio a little more, rolled down the windows, and sang along at the top of her voice. She sang about Chryslers and shimmying, huggin’ and dancin’, and thought of all that she had skipped in her life.
She’d never had those years of partying that her friends and sisters had. The midnight beach bonfires, the beer pong challenges in mildewy basements, the two a.m. hookups with boys who didn’t even know her last name. She’d skipped from high school to marriage, jumping right over dorm life and sowing her oats like she’d been playing Life Monopoly and had drawn the Skip Ahead to Marriage without Passing Go card from the Community Chest.
The song wound to an end, and the radio announcer started talking about the band’s chart history. Nora went to roll up the windows but decided to leave them down, to let the wind whip at her hair. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sung along with the radio and driven too fast on the highway. The rare times she was alone in the car, she was usually making plans for the bakery, returning phone calls about school events, or dictating lists to Siri.
How had her life gotten to this dull, predictable place? No more, Nora vowed, no more being the one who missed out on life. If the B-52’s were to be believed, the secret to happiness was found in being a little wild and unpredictable. She’d literally let her hair down today by taking out her perpetual ponytail. Maybe she should do it in other ways too.
As she swung her car in front of the beach house in Truro, the radio was pounding out “You Give Love a Bad Name.” She closed her eyes, leaned back against the headrest, and sang along with the chorus at the top of her lungs until Bon Jovi finished singing about being shot in the heart.
“And yet another of your many talents, Nora the Neighbor.”
Nora jumped at the sound of Will’s voice as if she’d been caught looting the cookie jar. She turned off the radio and tried not to look like an off-key idiot. “Will! You scared me. I didn’t even hear you come up.”
His sunglasses hid his blue eyes, and that same lock of dark hair swooped across his brow. A long-sleeved dark green T-shirt hugged his muscular chest and tapered into jeans that skimmed along his legs. He was one hell of a good-looking man, the kind that GUESS jeans would plaster on a billboard in Times Square. Damn.
“A herd of elephants following the Notre Dame marching band could have passed by your car and you wouldn’t have heard them.” He grinned and nodded toward the interior of her old Buick. “What the hell kind of speakers does this thing have anyway?”
Nora turned off the car and got out. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb the whole neighborhood.”
“Darlin’, the whole neighborhood right now is me. Everyone with any sense has left before winter sets in. I’m the only bear that hibernates on this street.” He leaned against the rear door of her car and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are you here? I thought you were never coming back. And by the way, you should have stopped by to say goodbye.”
“I’m sorry. I had to get back to work.” Not exactly the truth. The whole encounter with Ben and Will had left her shaken, and a part of her had felt guilty even though technically she’d done nothing wrong. So, in her best ostrich with her head in the sand imitation, she’d avoided all of it and left without telling Will.
“I’m glad you’re back, though. How long are you here for?”
She tried not to hear the words I’m glad you’re back and take them for anything other than friendship. “Just for the day.”
“Then I say we make the most of it.” He grinned. “How about a picnic on the beach in an hour?”
She hadn’t thought about food and had forgotten to eat before she left. That was her excuse for saying, “Yes, that sounds like fun.”
Deep down inside, she knew the truth. She’d been hoping she would see him. Then when he’d called her darlin’ with that little flirty tone, she’d loved the attention. For two years, she’d slept in a separate room from a husband who had become a roommate. She’d forgotten what it felt like to look in a man’s eyes and feel beautiful, desired, special.
And she might be going to hell for it, but she wanted just a few more minutes of that with one selfish picnic on the sand.
“Great,” Will said. “I’ll pack some sandwiches and meet you down there. See you soon.” He gave her another smile before he crossed the street and a little rush ran through Nora.
She went inside the beach house and opened the windows, letting in the sounds of the ocean and the scent of the salt water. The soft shush-shush soothed her nerves and grounded her. This was just a lunch, nothing more. She had no reason to feel ashamed or nervous.
She stepped out onto the back deck and turned her face up to soak in the afternoon sun. The temperature had risen in the time she’d been driving, so Nora shed her coat and shoes, and headed down the sandy path to the beach.
She could almost fool herself into thinking she had reached the end of the world because there were no other human beings for as far as she could see in either direction. She rolled up the cuffs of her jeans and strolled along the shore, picking up shells and tossing them back, watching the incoming tide fill the dips and divots in the sand, and listening to the seagulls call to each other across the sky.
The moment reminded her of an early fall morning when she was seven and had stayed home sick from school. Her mother had gone to the bakery, and her dad had taken off work to stay home with her. By midmorning—and after a long nap—her fever broke, and she’d felt better. Instead of driving her to school, as Ma would have done, Dad slipped Nora’s arms into a light jacket. “We’re going to play hooky,” he told her. “And go to the beach. Just you and me.”
In a family of four girls, time alone with Dad had been a rare, treasured thing. When her father bundled her into the car and drove them down to Tenean Beach, Nora had felt more special than she ever had on her birthday. To a seven-year-old, the beach had seemed as big as the moon, with its colorful playground and view of the harbor. That day, the beach had been as empty as Truro was today, with parents at work and kids at school. Dad had bought some sandwiches on the way there, and they’d had a picnic. Then they’d dashed in and out of the water, laughing when the waves slapped their legs with cold water.
As Nora walked along the sandy shore of the Cape, she realized why that day was one of her most treasured memories. Because she’d had fun.
There’d been no expectations, no rules, no schedule. Her father had been the carpe diem parent, while Ma was the one who brought everyone back to earth. Then Dad died a year later, and the fun had died with him. Ma ran a tight ship, probably because there was no other way to function as a business owner and mother of four girls under the age of ten.
As much as she’d loved and admired her father and held that memory of the beach day close to her heart, in the end, the one she’d emulated had been her mother. She’d married a carpe diem guy. She didn’t know if that made her an optimist or a fool. Because carpe diem guys didn’t squirrel away savings or plan for rainy days. They lived moment to moment, until those moments caught up with them.
Just then Will loped down to the beach with a red plaid blanket tucked under one arm and a small cooler in his opposite hand. Nora stayed where she was, feeling all kinds of wrong, but at the same time rooted to the spot, anticipating, dreading, wondering. Was she embarking on carpe diem territory herself or making a massively stupid mistake?
When he reached her, his smile widened. “You came. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”
She took the blanket from him and settled it over the sand. Even though the day had been unseasonably warm and sunny, the beach was still deserted, and that made their impromptu picnic much too intimate. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m here.”
He set the cooler down and took a step closer to her. “Because you’re as curious as I am about where this could go.”
What happened in Truro?
Nothing.
Yet.
Was that why she’d come here? Why she’d gotten in the car and driven all those miles and let down her hair and affected this live-for-today attitude?
She was here alone in Truro. Ben had the kids, way back in Dorchester. No one, in fact, knew she was here except for Magpie. Whatever happened, no one would know, except Nora and Will. This could go anywhere—back to his house, or here on the uninhabited beach—and for a few hours, she could feel like she used to when Ben had first smiled at her. Beautiful. Sexy. Desired.
She could forget everything waiting for her back at home, push her guilt about the kids and the bills and the job to the back burner. All her life, Nora had been the one who played by all the rules, did everything right. She’d gone in early, stayed late, organized the classroom parties and hosted the sleepovers. And where had that left her? Had it really been worth it to live her whole life on the straight and narrow?
The temptation to take the road never traveled was strong, whispering that she deserved this, that chances were good Ben already had someone else in his life, on all those Friday and Saturday nights he didn’t spend at home. All she had to do was reach out and touch Will, to open that gate.
“I’m married, and I know I told you that already, but…I am.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, because maybe if she reminded him and herself, she wouldn’t forget that ring on her finger. If she stepped too far off that path, she was afraid she’d get tangled in the weeds and never make her way back.
“And is that a permanent situation?” Will asked. “Because from what I saw the other day, it didn’t look like that.”
She sighed and sank onto the blanket. “I don’t know. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing. All I know is my life is a mess, and I have no idea how to clean it up.”
He settled beside her, withdrew two beers from the cooler, unscrewed the caps, and handed one to her. Comfortable, easy, as if they’d been together dozens of times. “Three years ago, I was where you are. My life had fallen apart, my career was on the skids, and things got so bad, I was applying to work at the bank.”
“You? Working in a bank? Sorry, but I just don’t see it.” His tattoos peeked out from under his shirtsleeves, and his hair dusted his collar. He didn’t look like any teller she’d ever dealt with, but then again, if she’d had one that looked like him, she might have gone to the bank a lot more often.
He chuckled. “Neither did they, which is why I didn’t get hired. I did, however, get hired to paint a mural in the lobby when the manager found out what I used to do for a living. The problem was, I had lost my desire to paint—hell, my desire for anything. My wife had walked out on me a month earlier, taking the furniture—and the next-door neighbor.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I was in this empty house, living next door to another empty house, and every time I tried to paint, all I heard were those echoes of failure.”
“I hear those too.” She thought of her kids, of the yellow notice on the house, of the hurt in Ben’s eyes Friday night. Those images flickered in her mind all day, growing brighter and stronger when she was alone at night and regrets crowded into the bed.
“I sat down to start the mural—it was going to be seven twenty-by-forty canvases—knowing that getting it right was a big deal. It was my way back to my career. The kind of piece that could lead to more work and something approaching a steady income, which usually isn’t associated with the word artist.” He took a long drag off the beer and leaned back on his elbows. A trio of seagulls swooped down, found nothing to interest them, and left in a flutter and squawk. “I sat there in the bedroom I had turned into a studio for at least an hour and…nothing. Not a single damned idea. I’ve always been the kind of artist who had more ideas than time to paint them, but this time, I drew a complete blank. I was so angry, so sure my career was over. I kicked the canvas, which made it fall over and crash into my paints, which spilled in a nice, big Technicolor puddle on the tile.”
She put a hand over her mouth to cover her gasp. “What did you do?”
“I had a damned fine pity party for the rest of the afternoon. Grabbed a beer, went outside, debated what kind of careers a washed-up artist that not even a bank wanted to hire could have. Turns out there aren’t a lot of options.” He chuckled. “Anyway, I sat out there the rest of the day, and when the sun started setting, I went back into the house to clean up the mess. And there, on the floor, I found what I needed the most. Inspiration.”
“In paint on the floor?”
“The canvas had fallen into the paint, and there was a swath of oranges and purples across the front. This long swoop of color that streaked across the whole canvas. I looked up, and the sky, I kid you not, looked exactly the same. The sunset had painted the clouds in purples and oranges, with a peek of blue below, merging into the ocean. The water was calm that day and those amazing clouds were reflecting off the ocean. The pier down there”—he pointed a few hundred yards down the beach—“was kissed with just enough light that it seemed almost surreal.
“It was an amazing sight, and one that filled me with such peace and a sense of harmony with the world and myself again. I felt like I’d found my truth, know what I mean? And so that’s what I painted. I don’t think I’ve ever painted as fast as I did that night. I wanted to capture it before it disappeared.”
Will tugged out his phone, scrolled through some photos, and then showed her the picture of the sunset, followed by ones of the finished project. The mural looked as real as the image he had captured and brought to life all those feelings of peace and harmony that he’d talked about.
“That is stunning.”
“Thanks.” He tucked his phone back into his pocket. “My career turned around after I finished that mural. Several other branches commissioned the same piece on a smaller level, and within a couple months, my house was furnished and my life was full. My point is”—he handed her a sandwich—“that sometimes you can find what you are looking for in the middle of the mess.”
Her eyes met his, and warmth spread through her veins. Will had this way of looking at her that made her feel like the only woman in the world. “Do you really think so?”
“I’ve found what I’ve been looking for.” He leaned closer, winnowing the gap between them.
Nora held her breath. The water, the gulls, the sand seemed to disappear. And then Will kissed her. Tender, sweet, slow, as if he were memorizing the feel of her lips. He cupped her jaw, and his fingers danced along her cheek.
Nora hadn’t been kissed by another man in so long that at first she remained stiff and scared. Then her body responded, desire quickening in her veins, and she yielded to his kiss. When she closed her eyes, the kiss was similar enough to Ben’s that she could fool herself.
Will drew back and a slight smile curved across his lips. “You are as amazing to kiss as I thought you would be. And I would love to find out more—much more—about what it’s like to be with you, but I think maybe we should just have lunch for now.”
If he hadn’t stopped the kiss, would she have? Nora didn’t know, and didn’t want to find out, because a part of her was still simmering with desire and still thinking about taking his hand and leading him up to that bedroom with the painting of the lighthouse.
If anything, kissing Will had made her life messier. Her decisions more complicated.
She unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. Turkey, cheese, and lettuce, with a couple slices of bacon and some mayonnaise on toasted wheat bread. “I don’t think my mess is going to be as easy to solve.”
He leaned back on his elbows again and looked out over the ocean. “Maybe you just need to change your view, until it shows you your beauty and your truth. It’s there, Nora, if you look hard enough. And look in the right places.”
In some kind of poetic finale, the sun was just starting to set as Nora and Will headed back up the beach to the road. They had talked all afternoon, finishing up the lunch he had brought and eating the entire package of cookies he’d tucked in the cooler. He hadn’t kissed her again, but he had found a hundred reasons to touch her—handing her a water bottle, taking the trash and stowing it in the bag, tumbling a pile of shells into her outstretched palm. Every single time, her heart zinged and her brain let out alarm bells.
Will stopped walking when they reached the beach house and set the cooler on the ground beside him. His hands captured hers, his grip firm and warm—
And not Ben’s.
Ben’s hands were slightly bigger, his fingers longer. When he held hands with her, he laced their fingers together and traced lazy circles over the back of her knuckle with his thumb. She couldn’t remember the last time he had held her hand, but her heart remembered what it felt like. Damn it.
No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t turn Will into Ben. Couldn’t transform that amazing kiss from almost-Ben into actually-Ben.
“I had a wonderful time,” Will said.
“Me too. Thank you for lunch.”
“My pleasure. And I mean that.” He gave her hands a squeeze and leaned closer, close enough for her to catch the woodsy notes of his cologne, close enough to kiss him again. In that second, she imagined a future with him. Making love in his bedroom, waking up in his arms, strolling along the street in the early morning. The temptation inside her strengthened, urging her to close that gap, to feel his mouth on hers one more time. “When will I see you again, Nora the Neighbor?”
She held on to him for a second longer and then released his hands and stepped back. She wasn’t this person, and wasn’t going to be. For better or worse, she was Nora O’Bannon Daniels, a little OCD, a little uptight, and a woman who, in the end, couldn’t do the wrong thing. A woman who, despite everything, still loved the man who had put that ring on her finger. A woman who couldn’t fully picture herself with Will, because he didn’t fit right with Sarah and Jake and the life she already had. She wasn’t ready for whatever could happen in Truro, and she might never be. “You won’t.”
He cocked his head. “Why not? I thought you had a great time.”
“I did. But that isn’t enough, Will. It’s not enough to break the rules I live by. I thought I could, and to be honest, that’s most of the reason why I drove down here today. I wanted to know what it could be like if…” She let out a long breath. “If I did something the old Nora would never do. I guess I thought if I lived my life differently, even if only for an afternoon, I’d get different results. But all this would do is make my mess even bigger.”
He considered her words and finally nodded. “I can respect that. Doesn’t mean I like it, but I can respect it.” He reached up and cupped her jaw. “I hope he knows how lucky he is.”
The days when Ben thought he was lucky to have her in his life had passed. “It doesn’t matter if he does,” she said. “I know who I am, and even if the person I am is far from perfect, it’s a person I want to respect in the morning.”
Because she hadn’t been that person, she realized. She had been driving down the wrong path for a while. Now she needed to try to navigate that road alone, not with a man she plugged into Ben’s place.
Will dropped his hand. “Well, if you ever want to do something you might regret in the morning, you have my number.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before he turned on his heel and disappeared into the dark.