Castles in the Sand (9 page)

“That’s not new.” Mick had witnessed their odd rapport often enough.

“But it was nonverbal. We couldn’t say it out loud.” Her lower lip whipped outward, all by itself. Mickey Junior’s would do the same.

“Are you sulking?”

“Yes.”

He gave her a quick squeeze. “Talk to me. Why did you two go nonverbal?”

“Because Kenzie was there.”

“Ah. That intruder. How dare she!”

“Don’t make fun.”

“Never. What did our son say without words?”

“At first I thought he said to back off and give him some space. But then I realized he was telling me to back off and give
her
some space. Or
them
.”

Mick chuckled.

“Don’t.”

He only laughed louder. “Oh, come on. Remember? I told my mother the same thing. Several times, as a matter of fact, and it wasn’t nonverbal. It was a few decibels above a shout. She was not hard of hearing and she understood English perfectly well by then.”

“She was upset because I don’t have Italian ancestors.”

“No, she was upset because you changed the dynamics between her and me. You stole her son.”

Pepper’s bottom lip moved outward again.

“We’ve talked about this since you were pregnant with Aidan, about the fact we would have to let him go someday.”

“Yeah, and we have let him go.”

“But not until now to another woman.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Nobody said you had to like it.” Mick turned off the nightstand lamp. “It’s just the way it is, Pepper.”

She wriggled down and under the covers with him, still within the confines of his arms.

He kissed her. “Goodnight, you hussy, you.”

“What?”

“Hussy. My mother’s favorite name for you.” His laughter ended abruptly in a snore.

Since the time he first relayed that tidbit years before, Pepper thought he teased. Now she wasn’t so sure. She might easily replace the name “Kenzie” with the derogatory noun.

I’m sorry, Lord. This is more than I signed up for when I said Aidan was Yours. Letting him go is one thing. Welcoming this almost stranger into my family is another
.

Exhausted as she felt, she wasn’t sure sleep would come easily.

I find it best to be okay with things I can’t possibly change. I sleep better at night
.

Famous last words, full of bravado cleverly disguised as faith.

Yeah, right. She was as pathetically inauthentic as Susan Starr.

Was that mother able to sleep tonight?

Early Wednesday morning, a storm whipped the tide far up onto the beach. Furious whitecaps nearly obliterated the sea’s pewter color. Rain fell steadily, a persistent drumming against the windows.

The wet weather did not stop Susan from going through the motions of her everyday routine. Shower, two soft-boiled eggs, lightly buttered toast, tea, prayer—which hadn’t progressed beyond “Lord” and one minute of sitting still in case more words followed—and walk the dog.

They went south. Pugsy loved the rain. Traipsing briskly along at the taut end of his leash down the concrete boardwalk, hood tied firmly beneath her chin, she wondered how on earth she’d had the presence of mind to pack rain gear. She doubted any presence of mind remained whatsoever within her grasp. Between Pepper Carlucci’s comments the previous morning, the Martha Mavens’ prayer time, and Natalie’s late-night prodding, her head spun like a whirligig.

“Good morning!”

She squinted through raindrops and recognized Julian approaching. He wore a drab fisherman’s hat pulled low over his ears and a windbreaker.

“Morning.” She called above the wind and tugged the leash to halt Pugsy.

Julian reached her. “Perfect day for reading in front of a fire, eh?”

The whirligig cruised into slow motion. “Yes. Perfect.”

“I noticed the tarp has blown off the woodpile behind your house. The logs are probably too wet. I’ll bring some dry stuff over if you like. Have you built a fire yet this week?”

“No, though it has been cool enough,” she shrugged.

“Not to sound chauvinistic—I’m quite sure women can build fires—but perhaps you’d like help?”

What was it about Julian that made her feel safe enough to admit she needed help? “Actually,” she said, “the gas starter thing terrifies me. Pretty silly, huh?”

“Not in the least. Why don’t I get a cozy fire going for you? Then all you’ll have to do is add wood.”

“I don’t really need a fire.”

“Of course you do. It’s in the rule book.”

The man was full of imaginary rules. She said, “Is this the same book with conversational rules?” She turned and together they walked toward their houses.

“No, totally different. This is the Life at the Beach House Rule Book. Hundreds of rules are listed. I believe this one is number one-zero-seven. Quote, ‘A fire must be built on rainy March days. Hours and hours must be spent relaxing in front of it with a book. Only fiction or outlandish biographies are allowed to be read.’ Unquote.”

“And what’s the penalty for not doing so?”

“A very grumpy attitude.”

She laughed out loud. “I think I’ve already got that.”

“Well, now you know the fix for it.”

A day of leisure was probably not the primary fix. Her first morning thought had been of the two people she loved most in the world. Overnight they took on jumping monkey qualities, one for each shoulder. Drake weighed down one, Kenzie the other. A children’s rhyme sang in her head.
Five little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head. Mama called the doctor and the doctor said, “No more monkeys jumping on the bed.” Four little monkeys…

Maybe she should call a doctor to settle them down. Or at least call Drake.

“Julian, do you mind if I use your phone?”

“Of course not. I’ll get a fire built for you while you make calls. Since you’re here on sabbatical—By the way, have I mentioned I’m a sabbatical expert?”

“No.”

“I am. It’s what the beach is all about, you know. Especially Faith’s house. As I was saying, since you are here on sabbatical, you might want to let the world know you are totally off limits for the day.”

“Tucked away at the beach, miles from home without a phone—isn’t that off limits enough?”

“I noticed you had company yesterday. A true sabbatical means totally, completely off limits to long conversations.”

“I’m not sure what that looks like.” No jumping monkeys, maybe? “Is it allowed?”

“Oh, definitely. As a matter of fact, it’s required. Rule number seventy-three.”

She smiled, and the whirligig puttered to halt.

Drake’s secretary wanted to put Susan on hold while she went looking round the church for him, but Susan declined. The toll call was on Julian’s nickel. He wouldn’t hear of her paying for it or of her standing in the rain to use the public phone down the street. She didn’t want to overstay her welcome.

Besides, she was eager to finish the business at hand.
Two little monkeys…

The woman patched her to voice mail.

“Drake,” she spoke in the perkiest of tones, the one he always accepted without question. Chimp chattering to Monkey Number One. “I just wanted you to know I’m fine, honey!”

Should she mention yesterday? Maybe not. It seemed somehow unkind to let him learn of Kenzie or Pepper or the Martha Mavens via a recording. She’d save all that for later.

“I will be home for the wedding rehearsal Friday.”

The instant she said “Friday,” her stomach roiled as if someone had punched it.

She didn’t want to go home. Not yet.

But she must.

“On second thought, maybe I will just go straight to the church. I won’t need to stop at the house. Rehearsal starts at five. It’s raining here. Have a nice day.”

She disconnected the call and then dialed Pepper Carlucci’s number for the second time in her life. She already knew it by heart.

Another automatic voice message ended the ringing.

“Carluccis.” It was a man’s voice. “Pepper Sprout and Mick are unavailable. You know what to do.”

In the background a female voice protested. “Mick! Don’t say that!”

“Everybody knows what to do with an answering machine.”

“I mean don’t say ‘Pepper Sprout’! That is not my name! Start it over!”

The teasing voices faded into muffled laughter and then the machine beeped.

“Uh, Pepper. This is Susan. Kenzie’s mom. I mentioned I’m leaving the beach house on Friday? I, uh, I plan to head out around four o’clock.” The chirpy tone trickled away. “I wanted to remind you just in case Kenzie was…thinking of coming down.” She paused. So much to say.

But she didn’t have the words.

“Thank you.”

She hung up the phone and pressed a hand to her stomach. The pain was still there, but the Drake and Kenzie monkeys had hopped off her shoulders.
No more monkeys jumping on the bed
.

Not true. There was one more clutching at her damp coat tails.

She called Natalie’s cell number and was surprised when her busy sister-in-law answered.

“Hello?”

“Natalie, it’s me.”

“You okay?” Immediate concern.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“I didn’t recognize the number.”

“I’m at Julian’s.”

“Suze, I know the fire hydrant struck again last night.”

Susan smiled. Natalie’s reference was to an old joke about how listening to her talk could be like taking a drink from a fire hydrant. Susan was supposed to say she wasn’t even thirsty. But she wasn’t up to playing along. Maybe last night she had been thirsty.

She said, “It’s okay. Today is better than yesterday. Julian’s at my house building a fire for me.”

“Great. And you’re okay?”

“Yes, Natalie! I’m okay. I’m just checking in to tell you I am so okay I don’t need company.”

She chuckled. “Is that a hint?”

“I guess it is. I know you mean well—”

“Suze! It’s all right! You can want to be alone. Try saying that, just for practice. Say ‘I want to be alone.’”

She kneaded her forehead and sighed. “I want to be alone. Oh! That sounds so rude!”

“It’s just a little honest assertiveness. People don’t always know what you want unless you tell them. Okay then, I won’t come today. As a matter of fact, I won’t come again until you tell me to.”

She held her breath. Emmylou probably wouldn’t return to the beach, nor the elderly twins, but Gwyn and Tess were likely to check in on her again soon. “And what about the others?”

“Wow. Who is this living inside my sister-in-law?”

“You started it by bringing them in on the situation. You told them I was here.”

“This is true. Okay, I will let them know.”

“Please thank them for prayers and yesterday’s visit and say I’m much better now.”

“And you’d prefer no company.”

“You don’t have to say it so…so forthrightly.”

“I’ll use my best Susan Starr voice.” She laughed. “So what are you doing today?”

“Well, instead of just going through the motions of my normal routine, I think I’ll follow the rule book.” Susan told Natalie about the conversation with Julian and his made-up rules. “Which means I plan to sit in front of a fire with a book and walk Pugsy in the rain. He thinks he’s a duck. And I’ll eat some more chicken soup.”

“And brownies.”

“If you insist.”

“I insist. I think it’s in Julian’s rule book as well. Probably in the top ten.”

“Probably. I’d better go. I don’t want to abuse Julian’s generosity.”

“He won’t mind. I think he’s loaded. What was it he did? Designed and sold some stupendous software the entire world cannot live without?”

“Something like that, but still, I’d better go.”

“Okay. Have a good one.”

“You too. Bye.”

She hung up the phone.

No more monkeys jumping on the bed
.

Kenzie Starr adored Aidan’s mother. First off was her name.
Pepper
. How cool was that? The wildest thing about her name was the way she lived it out. No conversation or situation remained dull for long with her around. She spiced it up in no time. But, as Aidan pointed out, too much Pepper or pepper became an irritant. If his mom got on his nerves, he faked a sneeze. Of course he’d been doing that since the first grade, so Pepper usually called him on it. Then they would rag each other until they ended up nearly rolling on the floor in laughter.

That was another thing Kenzie adored about the woman, how she totally and openly loved Aidan, how she communicated he was the greatest son, brother, musician, whatever, that walked the face of the earth. Why weren’t all moms like her? It should come as a package deal with every pregnancy.
If it’s genetic, my kid’s out of luck getting me for a mom
.

Sitting now in Pepper’s eternally untidy kitchen, she watched her rummage through a catchall basket on the breakfast counter.

“What in the world did I do with my keys?”

Comparisons jumped to Kenzie’s mind. Her mother never lost a thing. If she did, she’d never admit it. She’d just search and search for it without letting anyone know she made a mistake or needed help. She was so closed up. She should have positively suffocated eons ago.