Lost Along the Way (24 page)

“I know that,” Meg said. She hesitated before she continued. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure. What?”

“The day after your wedding, when we were all at the cocktail party, I overheard Doug talking to someone. One of his buddies, I guess.”

“Oh God. Please don't tell me you knew he was a crook the day after I married him and never told me. Please don't tell me that. There's not enough wine on this island for me to handle that.”

“No! Relax. I overheard him telling his friend how lucky he was, and how you were the best thing that ever happened to him. He was watching you from across the room, and I remember thinking that maybe I was wrong to assume you rushed into things. I remember thinking that he was really in love with you. I could tell just by looking at him. I remember thinking that I was happy you'd found your right person. So he conned me, too. Either way, he wasn't faking his feelings for you. What you guys had was real, even if nothing else was.”

“Does that make things better or worse?” Jane asked.

“Neither. It doesn't change anything. But maybe you can sleep a little better at night knowing that your marriage wasn't based on a lie. At the very least, Jane, I don't think you should be taking those pills anymore. You don't need them. They're only making things worse.”

“I know.” Jane sighed. “I've become even more of a cliché than I already was. I've devoted the last few years of my life to giving an award-winning performance of the role I'd been offered to play: trophy wife. I got so damn good at playing one I didn't even know I was doing it, and now I'm a blond bimbo with a borderline substance abuse problem. If they ever turn my life story into a movie, the actress who gets to play me will probably win an Oscar. It would take quite a talented lady to pretend to be this tortured. That will be ironic, won't it?”

“Meg's right,” Cara added. “Don't get me wrong, I'd be drinking a lot too, but I think you should probably keep an eye on it before it becomes something you can't control.”

“I know. Thanks for mentioning it, though. It helps to know that now at least I have people looking out for me.”

“I'm sure Doug still cares about you, too. If that's worth anything,” Meg offered.

“It's not. Why didn't you ever tell me that you overheard that conversation at the party?”

“Why would I have? Under normal circumstances it wouldn't have needed mentioning. Everyone should feel that way on their wedding day, right?” Meg asked.

“I did,” Jane said. “I know you guys weren't on board with how I got married, but I really did feel lucky.”

“I did, too,” Cara said.

“I still think it,” Meg added.

“So what does that tell us? That we're all idiots?” Jane asked as she slowly began to laugh. “I mean, it's comical that this happened to us.”

“No. It means we made the decisions we made for the right reasons. So did you.”

“Yeah. Well, it's over now, so I guess there's no use harping on it.” Jane sighed again. “I can't change the past, or my role in it. So I'd better get used to it.”

“You have to figure out what you're going to do, Jane,” Cara said. She reached over and rubbed her arm. “There are a lot of moving parts, but you need to start focusing on something. I think you should start with making sure your co-op board knows you're still alive. At the very least, call the building.”

“I'll do it tomorrow. Tonight is my night to fall apart a little bit. Tomorrow I'll put myself back together and figure out what I'm going to do. I promise.”

“You've earned the right to wallow,” Cara said. She reached over and topped off Jane's wineglass, then her own.

“Thanks,” Jane said. She'd forgotten what it was like to be in a room with people who didn't pass judgment. “Thanks for listening. And for not getting on me about drinking too much.”

“That's what friends are for,” Meg said. “I don't condone all of your coping mechanisms, but tonight you deserve to unwind any way you want to. I'm just happy that this time you don't have to do it alone.”

H
angovers never used to hurt like this,” Cara announced the following morning to an empty house. Meg had somehow found the energy to attend her spin class. Jane had walked into town in an enormous pair of sunglasses and a baseball hat, insisting that power walking was an integral part of rebuilding her life. Cara could barely find the energy to brush her hair, so she took on the responsibility of making coffee and cleaning up the glasses and the cheese board from the night before. She didn't mind the quiet. She felt the cool floor under her bare feet and listened to the birds in the trees. Jane wasn't the only one who had some long-overdue soul searching to endure, and as much as she was enjoying her time with her friends, she was all too aware that this was just a small reprieve. Her life waited for her a few hours west, and she was going to have to return to it at some point. Neither she nor Jane could hide forever.

She took the morning paper and her coffee to an armchair in the living room and curled up under a fuzzy throw blanket that was tossed on the couch. She hadn't made it so far as the end of the first page when she heard barking outside, and moments later, a perfunctory knock before Nick and Sebastian plowed through the front door.
So much for silence,
she thought.

“Good morning, Cara!” Nick said, throwing a bag of bagels on the counter. One thing she particularly liked about Nick was that he never showed up to the house empty-handed, and he always
arrived in a good mood. It was no wonder Meg and Steve took to him so quickly. Some people just have a way of making you happy whenever they're around. It was too bad that this was a quality she hadn't learned to appreciate in a man until later in life. If she had, she probably would have realized that her husband entered the room with all the alacrity of the grim reaper. She never would've decided to move in with him in the first place.

“Good morning. I see you brought breakfast,” Cara said as she put down the newspaper and pushed herself up from her chair. She followed Nick into the kitchen and poured him a cup of coffee. “What's new?”

“Not too much. I was in town and thought maybe you guys could use some bagels to soak up your liquid dinner, which in retrospect was probably silly since Meg has enough muffins in the freezer to feed the entire town for months.”

“It was sweet of you to bring breakfast. Thanks so much. I'll have one a little later.”

“Where is everyone? I was fully prepared to find you guys passed out on the couches in the den or something.”

“We may have been drunk, but we did make it to our beds last night, so that's a win! Meg also somehow managed to drag herself to her spin class this morning, and Jane went for a walk. I think she wants to enjoy the time she has out here, you know? It's good for her to get out. I'm just hanging out. Pretty boring morning for me!” Cara wished she'd had the energy or the stamina to go to spin with Meg again, but the truth was, she was out of shape. She made a vow to get back into working out again, but she'd do it slowly. She was almost forty. She needed to take care of her knees and didn't want to risk getting injured. She'd go to another class with Meg while they were out here, but as much as
she hated to admit it, back-to-back classes were a bit too much for her at this point.

“Ah. I forgot about Meg's spin class. She goes to that thing religiously.”

“We all should have such aerobic coping mechanisms, right?” Cara said. “Anyway, what are you up to today? Are you heading down to the beach?”

“Actually, no. I have some new clients in town who are looking to buy a bungalow. I'm going to show them a few properties today. Fingers crossed I can get them to bid on something.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun! It must be great to see all the new houses that come on the market out here. Some of them are absolutely spectacular. It's really fascinating, isn't it? How different people can have such different visions for the same four-walled structure? It's almost like a sociology experiment or something.”

“Do you want to tag along?” Nick asked. “You seem to be pretty pumped up just talking about it.”

“Why would you want me to come with you?” Cara asked.

“Why not? I'll just tell them you're a new broker and I'm bringing you with me to show you the ropes. It'll be fun. Besides, it's too nice out to sit inside all day with the newspaper. Come with me! You can practice your sociology experiment on beach houses.”

“Won't Sebastian be jealous if I replace him as your sidekick?”

“Nah. He won't mind if I leave him here. He loves Meg and he makes a great guard dog. He'll keep an eye on the place until Meg or Jane gets back.”

Cara turned and eyed the affable Lab sitting in the corner with a chew toy, blissfully tossing it up in the air and catching it again and again. “What does he do, lick intruders to death?”

“He's the strong, silent type. Like his owner.”

“I see.”

“So what do you say?”

Cara thought about it for roughly ten seconds. “I'd love to! Let me go get dressed. Make yourself a bagel.”

“Good. I need to meet them in about a half hour, so no primping. I don't want to be late.”

Cara ran upstairs to get changed, surprised at how happy she was to pretend she was back at work.

The Stillmans seemed
like a lovely couple who Cara knew right off the bat were going to drive their Realtor absolutely bonkers. They had a wish list a mile long and a budget that stretched a few inches at best in one of the priciest real estate markets in the world. Cara had dealt with this kind of buyer before, and almost always had to fight the urge to physically shake them until they understood that what they asked for simply wasn't possible, but Nick was taking it all in stride.

Instead, he asked friendly questions, trying to figure out what kind of home would make sense for them. Mrs. Stillman mentioned that she had a labradoodle whom she adored, but who was getting on in age. Nick added a whole bunch of ranch houses to the list, pointing out how much easier it would be for their dear old dog if she didn't have to climb stairs in her old age.
Genius,
Cara thought. They'd been married for ten years and had two small children, and after years of careful investing and frugal spending, they were finally ready to put a down payment on a little family vacation home. They were amenable to looking at lots of different properties, and while their budget was by no means large—so as a result, Nick's commission wouldn't be, either—she
was impressed by how smoothly Nick handled their questions and concerns. She'd met more than a few brokers over the years who thought of themselves as gatekeepers to the town itself; if they didn't like the prospective buyers, they all but drove them away from the property. They didn't want to risk running into them in town, or worse, having their children become friendly and be forced to host play dates. Real estate was like politics in a way, and a good broker was a rare find. Nick was one of the best she had ever seen, and just from listening to him for a few minutes in the car, she realized how much she had to learn. This week had proved that she had a lot to learn about a lot of things.

They arrived at a fixer-upper north of the highway, away from the beach but close to the docks, embedded in lush woods heavily populated with deer. Not the greatest location if you were someone who hoped to have a garden, as the deer would eat just about anything, but otherwise, Cara thought it had a lot of potential. There was a rusted old flagpole in the front yard, and dead plants and bushes lined the broken slate slabs that made a walk from the driveway to the front door. It had absolutely zero curb appeal, but someone with vision and a little creativity could change all of that. Meg was one of those people, she thought, and Cara admired her, and Steve, for undertaking the task of redoing their home instead of looking for one that was move-in ready. Loving anything should require some work. Some things more than others, but still.

Mrs. Stillman couldn't get past the fact that there was carpet (who
would
put carpet in a beach house?), or the fact that the kitchen cabinets were gray (admittedly a strange color for a house by the beach, but how hard was it to paint them?). They didn't like that the house didn't have a pool, despite the fact that Nick
had told them over and over that a house with a pool in Montauk was out of their budget. Cara found herself growing impatient just listening to them bitch and moan about all the things the house didn't have, but Nick never did what Cara was fighting the urge to do: remind them that unless they had a million dollars to spend, they weren't going to get million-dollar amenities, chief among them Jacuzzi tubs, acres of land, a heated pool, and top-of-the-line appliances. Nick just encouraged them to see what the house could be if they did a little work on it, and when the couple made it clear that they had no intention of lifting a finger to do anything other than stock the shelves with groceries, he encouraged them to keep an open mind.

“Why aren't we looking at any homes near the beach? I don't know that I want to sit in traffic to get here and then not be able to walk to the beach,” Mrs. Stillman griped from the backseat on the way to the next house.

“The inventory of homes for sale near the beach is very low. They don't turn over very often, and when they do, to be frank, they tend to be priced significantly higher than what you're willing to spend.”

“That's absurd. Our budget is high enough that we should be able to find something,” Mrs. Stillman insisted, as if she knew more than Nick.

An hour later, Cara's patience was worn out. They'd seen house after house and nothing had pleased Mrs. Stillman. Her husband had said about ten words since they had left on this expedition—he was not the one wearing the pants in the relationship. “May I make an observation?” Cara asked, knowing that she was probably overstepping her bounds as a fake Montauk real estate agent in training, but she didn't care. It was either try to
find a way to shut this woman up, or push her out of the car into oncoming traffic.

“Sure,” Nick said, eyeing her curiously from the driver's seat.

“The problem with houses near the beach, aside from the fact that your insurance will be astronomical, especially after the storms that have plowed through here recently, is that there's very little room for price appreciation.”

“I'm not sure I understand what you're saying,” Mrs. Stillman admitted, which pleased Cara. Until now, she'd seemed to have an answer for everything.

“Homes in that area are already overpriced. The supply simply doesn't meet the incessant demand for beachfront properties. Even if you did buy a home down there, it won't increase in value. Now, in some of these other sections, near the woods or back in the hills, for example, a lot of homes are still undervalued as the market out here continues to recover from the recession. There are some great bargains that you can get and in a few years should increase tremendously in value. At that point, if you want to take your money out and maybe look to move down by the beach, you'll be able to. From an investment standpoint you really should be considering some of these properties. There are real finds in there that will make you a lot of money over time.”

“That's a very good point,” Nick said, clearly impressed with Cara's sales pitch. Truth be told, so was she.

“I hadn't thought about that,” Mr. Stillman said, finding his voice for the first time since he'd gotten in the car. “I'd rather buy something that can make us some money in a few years. Maybe we should reconsider some of the houses we saw.”

“The one in the woods was charming. But the kitchen wasn't updated,” Mrs. Stillman pointed out.

“You don't cook,” her husband said.

“Maybe I would if I had a nice kitchen.”

“Does the oven work?” he asked.

“Yes. Everything is fully functional. Do you want to go back and look at it again?” Nick asked.

A silent nod from both parties in the backseat was all Nick needed to turn left and head back to the cottage nestled deep in the woods.

After they had
spent another twenty minutes roaming around the house, Cara decided to further test her powers of persuasion by being a bit more aggressive with her sales pitch. The fact that she didn't work for Nick's firm and had no business pretending she did didn't bother her at all. It felt good for her to regain some confidence in her work. Being self-assured was never something she could manage to do at home, not at her job and not in her marriage, but out here, now, it seemed to come effortlessly. It was as if the salt air had taken over her brain, making her do and say things she had never had the nerve to before. She kind of really liked it.

“The closets are adequate, but if you need more storage you can always get some great wardrobes or bureaus at some of the tag sales. I know a lot of people think tag sales are a waste of time, but out here, where people are constantly refurnishing or moving or selling their second homes altogether, you can really get some great finds. It's a fantastic and inexpensive way to add character to the home, not that this house has any shortage of that. Once you pull up the carpets in the living room I'd bet you'll find original hardwood flooring, the kind that tracks through the rest of the house upstairs. All you'd need to do is refinish them
and they'd be really special. Did you notice how quiet it is back here? There's something comforting about waking up surrounded by nature, don't you think? And let's not forget the fantastic windows in the bedrooms upstairs. They're new and fully insulated. The light that comes through them during the day is amazing.”

They followed her from room to room, finally beginning to see the possibilities of the property, and by the time Nick dropped the Stillmans back in town an hour later, he had an offer to submit to the seller.