Chance Harbor (35 page)

“See, I don’t judge,” Grey said. “I don’t say that’s bad or good, what anybody does. I mean, unless they’re obviously out to hurt another person, right? Otherwise, I try to cut people some slack. Assume their intentions are good until proven otherwise.”

“Are you saying I should do that with my sister?”

Grey put his hands up and smiled. He had a magnificent smile. A movie star’s generous mouth and white teeth. “I’m not telling you what to do. But it sounds to me like you’re brewing up trouble where there isn’t any. You and Zoe probably both want what’s best for Willow. Start there, and see what happens.”

Catherine scowled at him. To her surprise, Grey laughed, and she couldn’t help smiling. “All right. I’ll try,” she said. “If Zoe will see me again, that is.”

“Oh, she will,” Grey said. “I’ll make sure of that. Besides, she’s got a good job now. She’ll probably stick around awhile.” He stood up. “I’d better get going and let you talk to Willow. Don’t be too hard on her,” he suggested as he zipped his jacket. “She wasn’t being bad. Just curious. She’s trying to find out more about her mom and dad. About herself, too.”

“Join the club,” Catherine muttered, following Grey to the door. “Zoe hasn’t ever said a thing about Willow’s dad. Not in fifteen years.”

Grey gave Catherine an intent look. “She has her reasons,” he said. “Trust me on that.”

Catherine found that she did. She also discovered that she couldn’t look at this man too long without feeling a burn of attraction that started low in her belly and rose to her face. She turned away and said, “Thank you for bringing Willow home. More than anything else, I’m trying to keep her safe.”

“You’re doing a good job of it,” he said.

She stood in the doorway watching him ride off, feeling more curious and confused about her sister than ever. For a brief moment she imagined following Grey, certain that he must know the answers to so many questions about her sister’s life. Then she closed the door and went upstairs. Willow needed her. Her questions would have to wait.

O
n Friday morning, Eve drove over to Amesbury and hiked around Woodsom Farm with Bear to clear her head. They walked down to the Powwow River, where the dog plunged into the water and paddled with such a joyful look on his face that Eve had to laugh.

Afterward, she toweled him off and he napped in the car while she went grocery shopping. It was late afternoon and starting to get dark by the time she got home, but she recognized the truck parked in her driveway. Even if she hadn’t, the island’s red dirt nearly covered the bottom half of it, a definite clue. Eve climbed out of the car in a hurry and opened the passenger door to let Bear jump out of her Subaru.

Darcy was resting his head against the seat and looked like he might be asleep. Eve rapped on the door, startling him awake. He grinned at her in a way that made her skin buzz and opened the door.

“Thought you’d never show,” he said and rubbed Bear’s head. “Well? You a Massachusetts dog yet? Or are you going to come back with me to Vermont?”

At the idea of Darcy taking Bear, Eve’s spirits fell. But of course he’d have to, since Bear wasn’t even his to keep, but his son’s. “I’ll miss him,” she said.

He studied her. “You mean that? Because I have a solution.”

“What?”

“My son says he wants to stay in Los Angeles after his MBA. You know, because they have so much spare water and so little traffic.”

She laughed. “And?”

“And he thinks Bear might not like the heat. I travel all the time, so I was wondering if you might want to have custody of this dog, and I’ll have visiting rights.”

She hugged him. “You made my day,” she said.

“Shoot. I thought I did that when I showed up.”

“You’re the second best thing that’s happened today.” Eve looped her arm through his as they walked up to the house. “Did you drive straight through?”

“Yep. And I have to get back to Vermont for a meeting on Monday.”

“You must be exhausted.” She hesitated, then added, “You’re welcome to stay here if you don’t want to drive straight back to Vermont tonight.”

“Music to my ears. Which reminds me!” He opened the car door again. “I brought you something.”

She laughed when he pressed a fiddle case into her hands. “But I don’t know how to play!”

“You have great natural musicality,” he pronounced, and winked. “And an even better teacher.”

Inside, she poured them each a glass of cabernet and laid out a platter of cheese, bread, and slices of salami. It was chilly enough to light a fire; they caught up about Darcy’s work before Eve filled him in on Zoe. Once again, she was struck by how intently he listened, never interrupting or offering to fix things. In her experience, most men were better problem solvers than listeners, so this was a relief.

Bear was snoring in front of the fire by now, having enjoyed his own small plate of salami and cheese rinds. “He looks right at home,” Darcy said. “Thanks again for looking after him. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t taken him off my hands. Work really exploded. I’m going to have to go back up to the island again before Christmas.”

“Me, too,” Eve said happily, envisioning more walks on the beach with Darcy. She wouldn’t have a relationship with him; she’d decided that. But it would be wonderful to have another chance to enjoy his company before the two of them went their separate ways.

“Good to know.” Darcy poured her a second glass of wine and refilled his own glass. “Your place up there has been busy.”

She nodded and told him about the roofing work and plumbing being done. “I need to get up there again before winter and do some more work on the house myself,” she said. “It’s too difficult to pick out wallpaper and trim paint long-distance. I have to stand in the rooms to decide what I really want.”

And to say good-bye one last time, she thought, but didn’t want to say. Why bring down the mood?

“Sounds like you’ve had a tough go of things with Zoe, but I’m glad for your sake that she’s all right.”

“Me, too.” Eve pinched the bridge of her nose, unwilling to cry. Where was all this emotion coming from? She had cried her fill when Zoe disappeared and again when Zoe returned. Zoe was here now. She seemed healthy. There was nothing to cry about.

Darcy was watching her closely. “Did you tell her about her father yet?”

“No. I’ve been waiting to see how stable she is.”

“Makes sense.”

Eve leaned against him. “I have made so many mistakes,” she said.

“Mistakes by the dozen?” he suggested, a smile in his voice.

“By the thousand!”

He laughed. “You and me both, baby.”

Eve made a face. “Don’t laugh. I mean it!”

“So do I.” Darcy turned on the couch so they could face each other. “Don’t you think anyone who lives to be as old as we are has made mistakes? That’s the beauty of life! We get to screw up over and over, always believing we’ll do things better the next time around. Sometimes we do, and sometimes we don’t. But the human heart never stops hoping. If it did, it wouldn’t keep beating.”

“You are a silly old fool—you know that? A hopeless romantic,” she said. “Though I never really understood that phrase. Shouldn’t it be ‘hopeful romantic’?”

“Either sounds better than being a hopeless cynic. Or a hopeful one.”

“Now you’re talking nonsense.”

“No,” he said, “I’m talking to you, Miss Eve.” He put his hands on her waist and pulled her onto his lap, then lay back against the sofa so that Eve was lying on top of him, resting her head just beneath his chin.

“You’re so tall. You’re built like something meant to climb,” she teased.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, and kissed her in a way that made her forget that they were too old and wise, too foolish and broken, to be this hopeless and hopeful all at once.

•   •   •

Willow had expected to be grounded for the rest of her life after last night. But Catherine seemed different in the morning. Nicer. She packed Willow’s lunch for her and gave her extra money for the snack bar.

“What’s going on?” Willow finally asked.

Catherine turned from the counter, where she’d been loading the dishwasher while Willow ate her favorite kind of cheesy scrambled eggs with a piece of raisin toast. “What do you mean?”

“You’re being so nice.”

Catherine dried her hands on a towel and came over to sit at the table across from her. “I feel bad about how I blew up last night. I’m sorry.”

Willow shrugged. “You were worried. I get it. But I’m not a baby anymore.”

“I know. And I get that you went to Salisbury last night because you want to find out stuff about your mom. I don’t blame you. I have questions for her, too.”

Catherine looked pretty today, Willow thought. More relaxed. Her hair was in a bun and she wore Willow’s favorite green sea glass earrings from Prince Edward Island. “So why don’t you invite her here, then?”

“You’re right. I should. Maybe she’d come over for dinner one night. Would you like that?”

“Yeah. I’d even help you cook.” Willow frowned. “What happens if my mom decides she wants me to live with her?”

She was immediately sorry she’d asked, because Catherine’s face closed down, like someone had turned out the light in her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m trying to find out what Zoe wants. Why she’s here.”

“She came to see me,” Willow said, stung. “She told me that.”

“I’m sure that’s true, honey. But the thing about Zoe is that she’s a very impulsive person.” Catherine put her hand over her mouth and shook her head. “I shouldn’t say that about my sister. I don’t really know who she is anymore, you know? For a long time, Zoe was a risk taker. But I don’t know how much of her behavior was from the drugs she was taking.”

Willow curled her feet around the rungs of the chair, feeling miserable. “Do you think she still takes drugs?”

Catherine wiped her eyes. “I hope not. She seems okay, right? But you can bet that if you ever wanted to live with her, or even
stay
with her for an overnight, I’d make sure she was clean and sober first.”

“Is that what you want?” Willow asked, swallowing hard even though there was nothing in her throat. “For me to live with my mom again?”

“Oh, honey girl. How can you even think that?” Now Catherine was crying for real, the eye makeup running so that her eyes were circled in black streaks. “You’re the reason I do everything. You’re my
family
. I want you to live with me. Always and forever, okay? But the truth is that I’m not sure what would happen in court if your mom wanted you back, or what I’d do if you really, really wanted to try living with her again. Do you want that?”

In answer, Willow threw herself out of her chair and into Catherine’s arms, even though she was far, far too old to sit on anybody’s lap. She didn’t know what she wanted, other than to stop Catherine from crying any more.

•   •   •

Work was busy, even for a Friday, with a slew of kids coming down with a virulent stomach virus that kept the mothers coming in for advice on rehydration that they probably could have gotten over the phone. Catherine found herself feeling patient with them, though, after Willow’s surprising show of affection this morning. Maybe she hadn’t screwed up everything after all. And each of these moms, no matter how misguided, was trying to do her best by her child.

It was so easy to judge parents from the outside, she thought, as she tamed a squirmy toddler by pretending he had an elephant in his ear while the mother sat, white-faced with fear because her son had his third ear infection in two months. She could tell this mother that her son would be fine, that tubes were no big deal, that someday he’d outgrow all this. She could tell this mother that sometimes ear infections went away by themselves with no antibiotics at all. That was her job, advising parents. Infections and viruses and broken bones, yes, she knew about those. She took pleasure in sharing that knowledge. But about the big things, like whether a child would turn out to be good or bad, happy or sad, she knew nothing. Look at her own sister and herself. They’d been raised by the same parents in the same house. Yet it was as if Zoe and Eve—the people with the “fun” names, as Catherine used to think of it when she was young—were one family, while she and Andrew—serious names—were in another. Who knew what, or where, the tipping point was, when it came to a child’s personality?

Willow had been flip-flopping lately between affectionate and critical, honest and not. How would she turn out? And would her fate—or even her personality as an adult—be determined by who she lived with or by her biology?

These questions were making Catherine feel fogged in by anxiety. So when Alicia, the receptionist, offhandedly invited her to a spin class during lunch hour at the local Y, she surprised them both by accepting; she happened to have her gym bag in the car and desperately needed to clear her head.

Catherine had never tried a spin class. She was startled by the ferocity of the instructor, a guy in his sixties who looked and acted like he was in the Marines. He barked commands at them over the throbbing music: “Catch that bike in front of you. Come on. The chase is on. You can do it! Pedal, people, pedal!”

Ridiculous,
she thought, staring at Alicia’s bobbing ponytail and tight buns perched on the stationary bike in front of her.
We’re not even going anywhere
.

But then something kicked in. She pedaled faster and faster, determined to catch Alicia, to outpace her and her youth, too. To prove that she was still in the race.

Afterward, Catherine was spent and so sweaty that she braved the slimy floor of the Y showers to quickly rinse off before going back to work.

Her thighs and calves were still burning when she got home. The doorbell rang as she was gathering up a load of wash. Mike’s sharp barks echoed up the stairs. She glanced at the clock. Too early for Russell. He was teaching in New Hampshire today; it was his weekend with Willow and he had arranged to pick Willow up in time for dinner; it wasn’t five o’clock yet and Willow was still at school. Catherine had even called the photography teacher to check.

The doorbell rang again before she reached it. Someone must be feeling impatient. Mike was still barking.

Catherine opened the door, expecting Mrs. Hurley, an elderly neighbor who seemed to routinely lock herself out of the house, or maybe the UPS man. But it was neither.

“Oh,” she said, stepping back.

Russell stood on the porch, looking sheepish. “I know I’m early,” he said. “I just thought it would be easier if I came straight here from New Hampshire to pick up Willow instead of fighting traffic into Back Bay first.”

“That’s fine. She should be home soon. Want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve got beer, too, if you’d rather.”

“No, no. Coffee’s fine.”

Catherine started the coffee, her mind scrabbling for small talk that wouldn’t incite either of them to say anything they might regret later.

“How’s it going at the school? Do you like it?” she asked finally.

“It’s good, actually. Not the same caliber of student as at Beacon Hill, but the faculty’s nice enough, and Tim has done a great job of introducing me around so that I’m not a pariah.”