The Beach House (9 page)

And Richard might very well be that one. At thirty-seven Carrie has had her fair share of suitors, but none of them has ever been right, has ever been the man she feels she ought to settle down with. A successful journalist, she is forever meeting people, forever going out on dates, but it wasn’t until she met Richard that she started to think she might be happy settling down, could see herself with someone for the rest of her life.

So early to say that, she chides herself, when those fantasies creep in, but she has never been one of those girls who spend their life looking for Mr. Right, and she has assumed that it is quite possible she will never get married, which is absolutely fine.

And yet after two months she realizes she adores Richard. And it is more than just adoring him; she knows that they make a good team. The fact that he’s already been married is also a good thing, in her book. He has told her all about his affair with Nancy, and although infidelity is not something she is remotely comfortable with, Richard has been honest about the reasons why it happened, honest about his regret and remorse, and honest about why he had allowed himself to fall in love with someone else when he was married.

“It doesn’t make it right,” he explained to her, “but I understand now that as wonderful as Daff was, is, she and I were not the right match, and I feel as if Nancy was the catalyst to make me understand that.”

Carrie likes that he only has good things to say about Daff. She doesn’t feel threatened by Daff in the slightest, nor concerned by his closeness to his daughter. She had been so looking forward to meeting her. Had imagined them becoming close friends— shopping together, cooking together, an instant family.

Nothing had prepared her for Jess, for the pain she is so obviously in, for the attachment to her father and the jealousy that came with it. Her anger, her hurt, was so incredibly jarring to Carrie that after Richard dropped her home, after that miserable hour at the diner, Carrie seriously started to question whether they had a future after all.

Richard came straight over after he dropped Jessica off, and they talked. He talked about his guilt, his horror at seeing her behave like that, his need to give Jessica what she needed, his desire to be present for her, to be a proper father, not to be like one of those fathers who just disappear after the divorce.

And Carrie felt her heart melt. This was, after all, one of the reasons that she was falling in love with him. Because he wasn’t the type to run away, because he was good, because he wanted to look after his daughter.

“She just needs time,” he said eventually. “Think about it. She’s been used to her mother and I being together, then her whole world fell apart when we divorced, and this is the first time I’ve introduced her to someone else. You have to understand how difficult this must be for her.”

“I do understand,” Carrie said. “I do. It’s just . . . it was just so upsetting to me, and understanding it doesn’t prevent me from feeling hurt. And shocked.”

“I know,” Richard murmured, standing up and putting his arms around her, pulling her close. “I know how shocking it was. Trust me, I was shocked too. I’ve never seen her behave like that. I’m going to talk to her, but I need you to be your kind, loving self. Okay?” And he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

Oh shit, Carrie thought to herself. This journey may well be hell, but I’m in too deep and there’s no going back. Not now. Not now that I love this man.

“These may be the best banana oatmeal pancakes I’ve ever had in my life,” Daniel says, looking down with horror at his expanding stomach as the waitress refills his coffee cup in the Sconset Café.

“Why is it we always eat so much more on vacation?” Bee laughs, reaching over the table to squeeze Daniel’s hand, so happy they finally made love, so happy that she feels at last, after such a long time, that she has a shot at getting her husband back.

They pay the bill, then walk outside, stopping at the tiny realtor next to the café while Bee puts her sunglasses on and squints at a small iron table in the courtyard, stacked high with papers weighted down with large stones.

“Oh look!” she says. “They leave their listings on the table! Isn’t that clever?”

“What, you mean if we happen to have a few extra million lying around and decided, on a whim, to buy a cottage?”

“But we have to look,” Bee says, taking his hand and pulling him through the gate. “Come on, you know you want to.”

Twenty minutes later they are sitting inside, with the realtor, looking at pages of rentals on the island.

“Can we go and see it?” Bee turns breathlessly to Daniel. “Doesn’t it look perfect for us?”

And looking at the little cottage on the shores of Lake Quidnet, Daniel has to admit it does look like a gorgeous proposition, and hell, it’s not buying, it’s just a summer rental, and if Bee and the girls were here for a few weeks he could fly back and forth, and maybe a little bit of space would do them some good.

“Okay,” he says. “But you know if we took a summer rental I couldn’t spend the whole holiday out here.”

“I know, I know, but the girls would love it here and you could come every weekend, couldn’t you?”

“I’m sure I could,” Daniel says.

“Will you phone and see if we could come now?” Bee asks, and the realtor picks up the phone.

Aisling had given Michael a huge hug when they split up, and although he felt empty for a little while once she had gone, he knew from many, many past experiences that they will probably remain friends, at least until she moves on to a new boyfriend, after which time she will disappear out of his life, reappearing if and when she splits up with the next one.

They may or may not then end up sleeping together again, but it will be understood by both of them that it is merely physical, and there will be no chance of either of them falling for the other, and the cycle will continue.

At forty-two Michael has to admit he rather likes his life. His closest friends have been friends for years, and although most of them are now married with kids, and he doesn’t get to see them nearly as often as he would like, when they do get together it is always life-affirming, and he counts himself lucky to be surrounded by good people.

He likes his job, is lucky to have his apartment, and enjoys Manhattan far more than he ever expected to. True, he misses being able to get out of the city every weekend in the summer— his salary can’t quite manage the Hamptons—and when he talks to his mother he misses Nantucket hugely, but all in all he has to say his life is a good one.

None of his friends can understand how or why he is still single, and people are forever trying to fix him up on dates, but although there are times when he thinks it would be nice to have a significant other, he has never felt as though he has missed something.

After all, his father died when he was only six, and he was raised by a single mother who may have had numerous flings but never had a serious relationship that he was aware of. How could Michael possibly know what he is missing when he has never had it, nor borne witness to it, in the first place?

“Are you all right, darling?” Nan can tell, within the first few seconds, that something is up.

“I’m fine,” Michael says and sighs. “Aisling and I are over.”

“Oh love. Already?”

“Well, she clearly wasn’t the One.”

“Don’t worry, Mikey,” she says, reverting to his childhood nickname. “One of these days you will find someone who is perfect for you and all the pieces will fall into place. You’ll see.”

Michael smiles. “I’m not worried, Mom,” he says. “I just feel, you know, a little sad. Just the constant disappointment of realizing that the person you are getting to know is not the person you hope they’ll be.”

“And that’s fine,” Nan says. “It’s all part of life’s rich experience. Why don’t you come and see me? Spend a few days on the island? That would make you feel better.”

“Maybe I will,” Michael says non-committally. “Work is tough right now, but let me see if I can get some time off.”

“Tough? How can it be tough? It’s approaching summer, aren’t all those rich clients of yours off on vacation? This must be your quietest time, surely?”

“Unfortunately there’s never a quiet time here, but I will try, Mom. Promise.”

“What are you doing tonight?” Jordana comes into the workroom, her eyes sparkling.

“Why?”

“That new jewelry store on Sixty-fourth is opening and they’re having a party. I thought we could go and check out the competition.”

“You want me to go with you?” Michael is surprised. Despite working together all these years, despite numerous occasions when they have socialized together, it has rarely been just the two of them, and there has been an energy of late, a charge in the atmosphere, a tension that is not entirely comfortable.

“Would you? Jackson’s staying in Long Island tonight and I don’t want to go myself. Plus it would be helpful to have my jeweler there in case there’s anything interesting our clients might like. I need your expert eye.”

“Oh it’s my expert eye you’re interested in now, is it?” Michael raises an eyebrow, then looks quickly back at the loop in his hand. He didn’t mean it to come out like that, like a flirtatious question. Good Lord, no. He doesn’t know where to look.

Jordana steps back in surprise, then smiles at his embarrassment. How unexpected. Michael flirting with her. How . . . sweet.

“That and your company,” she says gently, and he looks up with relief.

“What time?”

“It’s six o’clock. Shall we go as soon as we shut up shop?”

“Sure thing.”

And as she walks back upstairs he can’t help but wonder why it is that this suddenly feels like a date.

“Here.” Michael comes back from chasing a waiter through the crush, holding two glasses of pink champagne high above his head.

“Cheers!” Jordana grins at him, then looks around. “There are an awful lot of people here.”

“Only because of the free food and drink.” Michael smiles.

“So what do you think of their stuff?”

Michael shrugs. “A little ordinary, although I like the insect collection.”

“You do? I always find insects a little creepy.”

“Depends what they are. The diamond tarantula isn’t quite my thing.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Jordana smiles.

“But I love the ladybird and the emerald dragonfly.”

“Could you do something like that?”

“Of course, but actually I’d love to do fish.”

“Fish?”

“Yes, fish.” Michael grins. “I grew up on Nantucket, remember? I spent my childhood out on our little Boston Whaler catching fish.”

“I know you’ve probably already told me this a million times over the years, but tell me again how you ended up a jeweler? It sounds like you would have been happier being a fisherman.” She has known Michael so long, but realizes she has never paid him much attention before. All of a sudden, she is seeing him in a different light, is interested in what he has to say.

“I’ve been asking myself that question for years. My mom had wonderful jewelry she inherited from my grandmother, and I was always fascinated by the stones.”

“So . . . fish. Do you think it would sell?”

“I don’t know, but I’d love to make something and see what people think.”

“You know, I think that’s a really interesting idea. Let me talk to Jackson and see what he thinks, but I like it. I see how it could work.” Jordana drains the rest of her glass as Michael watches in surprise, then grabs another couple of glasses from a passing waiter. “Oh don’t be so stuffy,” she says. “We’re here, so we may as well enjoy ourselves.”

Michael watches her, catches her eye for just a few seconds too long, and quickly looks away. He isn’t planning on doing anything. Jordana is his boss. And she’s married. Even if he were into married women, which he isn’t, she wouldn’t be his type. So why is there suddenly a frisson between them? These glances that go on a split second too long. Secret smiles into her glass. Her giggling and leaning into him.

Michael likes her. Has always liked her. Just not in that way, and how could he possibly entertain these thoughts, how could he possibly even think about . . . that . . . with his boss? Michael shifts guiltily and tries to focus on something else, moves away when she leans in the next time and places a hand on his arm. He tries to act as if their relationship is the same as it has always been: friendly, professional, cool.

But she’s lonely, and he’s lonely, and there are just the two of them, or at least that’s how it feels, and there’s so much champagne, and they’re laughing at the silliest things, and he walks her back to her apartment a few hours later and she asks him to see her upstairs in the elevator, and he becomes acutely aware, standing in the elevator, of every breath, every muscle, every fiber in her being, and when the doors open they turn to one another and, truly without knowing how it happens, Michael finds himself kissing her.

Michael wakes up, disoriented. The sheets feel too soft to be his, the room is too dark, and turning his head, feeling the dull ache of a hangover, he sees a mass of dark blond hair on the other side of the king-sized bed.

It takes him a few seconds, and then he sits up with a start. Fuck. Jordana. She is still asleep, and he reaches over quietly and picks up his watch. Almost six a.m. He could sneak out of here, get out before she wakes up, go home and have a shower, wash the guilt and unease away.

What was he thinking? He pads out of bed and into a bathroom, closing the door softly so he can pee in private. Oh shit. Jordana. His boss. A married woman. Married to his other boss. Not good news. Not good at all.

So what was he thinking? He wasn’t. He had had too much to drink and although he’d always thought Jordana was attractive and pleasant, and hell, okay, a little sexy, he’d never thought of anything else.