The beach house came into view, short and squat and weathered to a soft gray. It was nestled between spindly scrub oak and pine trees and plump green bayberry bushes, with a long sandy path leading to the front door. If Norman Rockwell had painted a beach cottage vacation scene, this would be it. The house had a quaint, welcoming air to it, as if it were saying, Come, stay with me, and you’ll forget all those troubles back in the city. Nora turned off the car and waited while the engine ticked and cooled. “We’re here, kids,” she said.
Jake, who had fallen asleep almost as soon as they got out of Dorchester, roused. He lifted his sleepy head and rubbed his eyes. “Can I go swimming, Mommy?”he
Nora chuckled. Her youngest child, who went from zero to sixty in two-point-four seconds, then crashed just as quickly when the fun was over. “After we get unpacked and say hi to your aunt. Okay?”
Jake leaned over and nudged his sister. He bounced in his booster seat and pointed at the cottage. “Sarah, we’re at the beach!”
Sarah elbowed Jake. “I’m not stupid, Jake. I can see that.”
Nora bit back her hundredth sigh of the day. “Sarah, be nice to your brother.”
“I don’t even want to be here. Why did we have to come?” Sarah scowled down at her tablet. She’d had her head buried in that thing for the entire two-hour ride, barely speaking to her brother and not at all to her mother.
Nora sighed. “Because I think we all need a little bit of a break.”
“I’m gonna miss the class party.” She gave the screen an angry swipe. “And trick-or-treating. And I want to see Daddy.”
“We will still celebrate Halloween, I promise.” Nora didn’t address the question about Ben. This morning, she’d taken the coward’s way out and texted him when he was at work to tell him she was taking the kids to the Cape and would let him know when they were settled.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d asked her husband for a divorce. Maybe she should be talking to a lawyer or filing for a separation or something. But the mere thought of all that paperwork and questions and court appearances pressed the air out of Nora’s lungs.
She got out of the car, opened the back passenger door, and unbuckled Jake. Then she went around to the back, popped the trunk, and grabbed their bags. Jake bounded out of the car and ran up the stairs with Sarah trudging along behind him, dragging her backpack, the straps snaking a path in the sandy walkway.
Magpie burst through the front door and down the stairs. Her long, dark hair flowed behind her like a veil, as flowy and loose as the maxi dress that swirled around her legs. Magpie was tall and thin, almost willowy, and as unconventional as spaghetti for Easter dinner. “My favorite niece and nephew! Come here, you two!” She bent down and the kids ran into her arms. Sarah’s grumpiness disappeared a moment later as she told her aunt about the new kid at school, how far she’d gotten in Plants vs. Zombies, and which One Direction singer was her favorite. Jake butted in from time to time with stories about the classroom bunny and the Tooth Fairy’s recent visit. “Whoa, whoa. You all have been super busy! Let’s get inside and you can tell me all about it over some ice cream. Sound good?”
“Yeah!” Jake punched one arm in the air. “I love ice cream.”
“Why don’t you two pick out your rooms first,” Nora said. She waved the kids up the stairs and into the house. Later, she’d mention the insanity of starting this trip off on a sugar high. For now, she’d take the peace some mint chocolate chip could buy.
As soon as the front screen door banged shut behind Sarah and Jake, Magpie put an arm around her older sister. “Nora, what the hell happened to you? Because, and forgive me for being direct, you look like you got run over by a Mack Truck.”
“The usual. Working too much. Sleeping too little.” And lately, from trying to dodge Ma’s prying eyes and questions. Nora had broken the news about her vacation first thing this morning, which had gone over about as well as peace negotiations in the Middle East. Ma wanted to know why her daughter was in such an all-fired hurry to get out of town, why the kids could afford to take so much time off from school, and most of all, why Ben wasn’t part of the packing list. Nora had held her ground and loaded the car, ignoring her mother’s disapproving scowl and complaints about her desertion of the family bakery. On the way to Truro, Nora had called Abby and Bridget, who had both told her it was about damned time she took a few days off.
Yeah, the usual sounded like it about covered the why-she-looked-like-shit question.
“Let’s go inside,” Magpie said, taking one of the bags from Nora’s shoulder. “For the adults, I bought a whole lot of wine. And good chocolate.”
Nora laughed. “I’m going to need it.” She needed a lot more than a bottle of pinot grigio, but for now, the thought of getting totally smashed and passing out sounded like heaven to Nora. Maybe she could wake up from her wine coma and all the nasty details of her life would have been sorted out by some fairies. And maybe a meteor was going to hit the ground in the next ten minutes too.
The beach house had a slight musty scent but Magpie had already opened the windows, letting in a gentle cross breeze and the shush-shush of the ocean. The kids had peeled off toward the bedrooms, and the sounds of a squabble over dibs carried down the hall.
“Don’t fight, guys.” Nora’s voice sounded weary to her own ears. She put the bags on the floor, then sank into a chair. It wasn’t just her voice that was weary; it was all of her. She was tired of arguing, tired of fighting, tired of losing. Tired of trying to figure out what to do next.
And most of all, tired of pretending she had it all under control.
Without a word, Magpie took Nora’s bags and brought them down to one of the guest rooms. She returned, opened a bottle of white wine, and poured a generous glass. Then she kicked an ottoman over by Nora’s chair and plopped down. Magpie held out the glass and waited for Nora to take it. “Here. You need this.”
“It’s only ten in the morning, Mags.”
“It’s vacation. Drink.”
“You’re a bad influence, you know.”
Magpie grinned. “That’s what you were counting on when you came down here.”
Nora noticed Magpie had only brought one glass into the living room. “Aren’t you joining me?”
“I’ll have some later,” Magpie said. “Right now, I just want you to chill out before you make me stressed.”
Nora took a long sip of wine. It was a smooth, dry chardonnay with hints of pear. Perfect. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a glass of wine. Alcohol hadn’t been part of her food budget in a long, long time. She took a second sip, a third. “Thanks, Mags. You know me well. It’s been a hell of a week, and it’s only Tuesday.”
“Is it just turning thirty?”
Nora scoffed. “Turning thirty is the best thing that happened to me this week. And that’s saying something.”
“You want to talk about it?”
Nora took another sip of wine. She’d skipped breakfast, and the alcohol was already filling her head with soft fuzzies that tempted her to confide in Magpie, to let her family see inside the mess that had become her life. But Nora had held on to the lie of her perfect marriage and perfect home for so long that she couldn’t seem to find a way to let the truth unravel. “It’s not a big deal,” Nora said while her next sip of wine dimmed the panic whispering behind every thought. “Just a stressful few days.”
Magpie studied Nora for a second and then got to her feet and put out a hand. Down the hall, the kids were now arguing over the bed choices. “Come on, Nora, let’s go outside.”
“But the kids—”
“Will figure it out, just like the four of us did. We all survived the war of who gets to ride shotgun without killing each other, and Sarah and Jake will too.” Before Nora could argue, Magpie grabbed her elbow and led her out to the back deck.
The French doors of the beach house opened onto a wide, shaded deck that offered an unobstructed view of the bright blue Atlantic. The neighboring houses were tucked behind trees, just out of view, making it seem as if they were the only people in the world. A sandy path flanked by a wood and wire fence wove through beach grass and down to the water. Gulls cried to each other as they circled over the sand, fighting over whatever scraps littered the edge of the water.
Nora drew in a deep breath of salty air. “It’s gorgeous here.”
“Isn’t it? When Charlie told me about this place and offered to let me stay here, I couldn’t say no.” Magpie wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against one of the posts. “You know, I’ve been all over the world, but the Cape is still my favorite place. ‘Till, in sheltered coves and reaches of sandy beaches, all have found repose again. Ever drifting, drifting, drifting on the shifting currents of the restless heart.’”
Soft, melancholy tones colored her sister’s voice. Nora wondered if maybe she wasn’t the only O’Bannon pretending to have it together. “That’s beautiful, Mags. What’s it from?”
“Longfellow. Thoreau quoted that poem in Cape Cod.” Magpie sighed. “I do so love it here.”
“So…who’s Charlie? I’ve never heard you mention him before.”
“No one special. Just a friend.” Magpie turned, took Nora’s empty glass from her, and set it on the railing. “Let’s grab the kids and walk the beach.”
A conversational diversion, Nora was sure, because any guy who gave a woman keys to a beach house like this was surely more than no one special.
Nora waited to ask again until the kids were with them and charging down the beach. She and her sister had kicked off their shoes and strode down the cool, soft sand. “He must be one heck of a friend to trust you with this place.”
Magpie shrugged. “Charlie knew I needed a vacation, and that was enough reason for him.”
Charlie. Nora could count on one hand the number of men Magpie had bothered to mention. “You want to talk about it? About why you, the one who never sits still, need a vacation? I’ve never known you to take so much as a sick day, Magpie.”
Magpie let out a short bark of a laugh. “When has anyone in this family ever wanted to talk about anything important? Besides, I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”
“Aren’t we all?” Nora let the words drift away until all that was between them was the cry of the gulls and the gentle song of the water.