The Family Beach House (19 page)

It was about an hour after his confrontation with Craig and Adam was in the sunroom, his laptop open in front of him. His face wore a frown of concentration.

Kat knew it was not the best time to bring up an important topic, not while Adam was working—which he almost always was—but she felt as if she might burst if she didn't talk to him soon. Her earlier conversation with Tilda about her and Adam starting a family was weighing on her. She needed to be reassured. Adam had sworn he wanted more kids but maybe, just maybe, he had lied about that in order to…She could hardly think the words.

“Adam?” she said.

“Mmm.”

“Are you busy?” It was a stupid question. Obviously he was busy.

Adam didn't answer. Kat perched on the chair next to him. “I just wanted you to know that I'm really glad we're going to try to get pregnant right after the wedding.”

“Mmmm.”

“I mean, I'm not getting any younger!” Kat laughed a little nervously and fought an urge to bite a fingernail, something she had not done since she was eleven.

Adam finally looked up from his laptop. He never went anywhere without his laptop and iPhone. He was a very plugged-in person.

“I'm sorry,” he said, with a vague smile. “I wasn't really paying attention. What were you saying?”

Kat swallowed hard. She still got a thrill when she looked at his beautiful, strangely colored eyes. Right then they were bright green. He was such a handsome man. His jaw was so firm. She spoke with some difficulty. “I was saying that I'm glad we're going to start a family right away, once we get married. Like we talked about.”

Adam shifted in his seat and crossed one leg over the other. He looked somehow professorial. “Yeah, about that,” he said. “I've been thinking and, really, what's the rush? You're young and I'm in great health. These days, women can safely have kids at forty and fifty, no problem.”

Kat folded her hands and squeezed them together in her lap.
Oh, God,
she thought,
this can't be happening.
“But I thought you said—”

“I'm sure I meant whatever I said at the time I said it.” His tone was a bit impatient. “But I've thought more about the whole kid thing and I just don't think it's a great idea for us to rush into it. Don't you want to spend some time alone together before we start schlepping to doctors and changing diapers and getting up at all hours every night to deal with a screaming baby? Believe me, I've been there and it isn't a hell of a lot of fun.”

Kat didn't reply. She couldn't, not then, anyway. She didn't want to fight; she didn't feel angry. She felt slightly sick to her stomach. Sick, and disbelieving. They had talked about private schools. They had talked about how best to save for college. She had made a list of names she liked, for boys and for girls. She had thought she would write a mommy blog and make some personal spending money. She had told her parents and though they had reservations about her marrying a man of fifty, they were happy about the prospect of being grandparents.

“And come on,” Adam said now, “what about your job? You've got a nice little career going. You don't want to jeopardize it by taking maternity leave, not until you've moved up the ladder a bit and are really invaluable. Not in this economy, anyway. Quitting now would be stupid.”

Kat's head began to buzz and her stomach felt all jumpy, almost as if she was going to faint. She had only fainted once, right after giving blood at a drive, but she remembered very clearly how it had felt just before she had lost consciousness. “Yes,” she managed to say. “The economy is bad.”

Adam smiled indulgently, the smile of the victor very used to being the victor. “Look, I'm sorry, honey, but I've got to get back to this document. Maybe we'll drive down to Blue Sky this evening for a drink, okay? You can wear that nice dress I got you, the black one with the skinny straps. Just think. If you were pregnant you wouldn't be able to wear it! Or have a cocktail!”

Kat left the sunroom. She wasn't sure that Adam had even noticed her leaving.

 

It was later in the afternoon. Adam had gone out to meet an old friend for a drink; he promised he would be back in an hour or so. Kat made sure he was gone before she sought out Tilda. She found her in the sunroom, with Hannah. She hesitated at the door. She liked Tilda and she was pretty sure that Tilda liked her. But Hannah made her a little nervous. She wasn't quite sure why.

“Kat, hi.” Tilda smiled and gestured for her to join them.

Kat summoned her nerve.
What the hell,
she thought.
The McQueens are going to be my family before long. Or, I'll never see them again after this week.

“I hope I'm not bothering you,” she said, taking a chair.

Hannah shook her head. “No. We were just plotting to take over the world. Nothing major.”

Kat managed a small smile.

“What is it, Kat?” Tilda asked, her voice kind.

Kat shot a look at Hannah before beginning. “Do you remember what we talked about, in the kitchen? About Adam and I starting a family?”

Tilda nodded. “Of course.”

Again Kat felt that awful, old urge to bite her nails. Instead, she clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. “Well, I got to thinking and…I mentioned it again to Adam, earlier today.”

Tilda knew exactly what poor Kat was going to tell them. “And what did he say?” she asked gently. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she could see Hannah frowning.

“He told me he thought we should wait a few years before starting a family. He told me he'd thought it all through and he didn't think we should be in a rush. He said I'd put my career at risk by having a baby now.”

“And what did you tell him?” Tilda asked, masking, she hoped, her supreme annoyance with her brother. “Did you tell him you don't care about your career as much as you care about having a family? Like you told me?”

Kat closed her eyes for a moment. “I told him…” She opened her eyes and cleared her throat. “It's embarrassing. I didn't really say anything. I guess I just was—noncommittal.”

“You were upset. You were taken by surprise. That's okay.”

“Are kids a deal breaker for you?” Hannah asked, leaning forward toward Kat. It was a tough question for her to ask. She dreaded the question being asked of Susan. She believed Susan would stay with her no matter what, but the thought of Susan's giving up something so meaningful to her for the sake of her wife made Hannah feel awful.

“I don't know,” Kat replied. “I think so. I love Adam but…but he promised we would have a family. God, I'm already thirty-two! If I wait too much longer I—”

Hannah interrupted her. “If you acquiesce to Adam and delay getting pregnant and then in two or three years he's still putting you off, what then? Do you want to have to go through a divorce and start looking for Mr. Right all over again? You could be forty by the time you meet someone special, forty-two or three by the time you're ready to have a baby with him.”

“Hannah! Don't—”

“I'm just being honest here, Tilda. She should seriously reconsider this marriage. Now, before she wastes any more time.” Oh, God, Hannah thought, did that mean she believed that Susan should reconsider her commitment to her…?

Kat stood abruptly. “I'm sorry. Adam is your brother. I should never have involved you, either of you.”

“It's all right,” Tilda said with what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “Don't apologize. Talk to your girlfriends, Kat. Hannah is right. You have to believe in what you want from your life.”

With a weak smile in return, Kat left the sunroom. Tilda's maternal instincts had been aroused and she thought about how terribly young and vulnerable Kat had seemed. She wondered what Kat's parents had to say about their daughter's impending marriage. She suspected she would never know.

“Are we being horrible people, trying to break up the engagement of our own brother?” Tilda asked her sister.

Hannah sat back and sighed. “We've been through this already. We're not trying to break anyone up. We're simply encouraging a young woman to think for herself. And hoping she dumps the loser.”

“Hannah, don't. We really don't know what goes on between those two. Maybe Adam really and truly loves her.”
And if he does really and truly love her,
Tilda thought,
then why had Kat snuck out for a private meeting with another man?

“Think what you like, Pollyanna. If it were ethically acceptable I'd pay her to leave him.”

“Since when do you hate Adam? I always thought you two got along.”

“We did. We do. Sort of. It's just that I think he's all wrong for that girl.”

“Young woman,” Tilda corrected.

“Whatever. Call it intuition. And now he's trying to back out of a major promise!” The moment Hannah spoke those words, she felt it again—that awful, cringing guilt and glaring self-awareness. Was she the proverbial pot calling the proverbial kettle black? When was she going to make good on her promise to Susan to have a family?

Hannah rose abruptly.

“Are you okay?” Tilda asked.

“Yeah, fine. I just need to stretch my legs.”

Hannah left the house and walked swiftly down the driveway to Shore Road. And then she began to run.

It was early evening. Tilda was reading on the front porch when her father drove up to the house. She watched as he got out of the car, shouldered his golf bag, which had been in the trunk, and climbed the porch stairs. He set his golf bag against the railing. He was back from a game with Teddy.

“Should I bother to ask?”

“No,” he said. “You can rely on past experience.” He sat heavily in the chair next to Tilda's.

Tilda grinned. “That bad. Why do you continue to play?”

Bill shrugged. “I like golf. I don't have to be good at it to like it. And Teddy puts up with me. Even though I'm no competition whatsoever.”

“Mom was pretty good, wasn't she? At least, I remember her as being good.”

“She was a good golfer, yes. But she wasn't really interested in the game. It just came naturally to her, I guess. It was the same with tennis. She never took a lesson and yet she was the star of her college team.”

Yes, Tilda's mother had been, to a great extent, a natural athlete. She golfed, she played tennis, she swam, she sailed. But in Hannah's opinion Charlotte had overestimated her athletic skills. Maybe she had, but Tilda really didn't think so. The sisters' memories of Charlotte would always differ. To Tilda, and she guessed, to Adam, Charlotte was golden. To Hannah, she was brass. And what was she to Craig, Tilda wondered. Rust?

“What did you do with Frank's clubs?” Bill asked.

“They're in the garage. Jon might want them someday.”

Jon was good at sports. Jane, like her mother, had no interest in sports whatsoever. Frank had been more of an armchair athlete, until he had discovered boccie ball. The golf clubs had been a gift from Charlotte and he had used them only rarely.

“I think you should get married again, Tilda,” her father said, breaking the comfortable silence. “I don't like to see you alone. You're still so young.”

Tilda was taken aback. They had never talked about her personal life before. She didn't really want to talk about it now. “I'm fine, Dad,” she said. “I've got my job and the kids and you and—”

“A job doesn't give you a hug when you're feeling sad.” Her father's intense blue eyes held her own. “Jon and Jane will be gone before long. And Tilda, I've got Jennifer now, and my own friends. I love you, you're my daughter, but there's a limit to what I can be for you at this point in our lives. You know that.”

“Of course I know that, Dad. But lots of people are fine living alone.”

“True. Your aunt lived alone for years and years and she thrived. But you're not Ruth. You should be with someone, Tilda.”

Tilda felt insulted. Why should she be with someone? Because she was weak? Because she wasn't capable of living on her own?

As if he had read her thoughts, her father said, “You're a very loving and giving person. You're a caretaker. Living alone is a waste of your best gifts.”

She was mollified, a little. But she didn't know what to say. Then: “I have been seeing someone, you know. He's spending a few weeks here, in Ogunquit. We've been out together a few times.”

Her father nodded. “I heard about it from Teddy, who heard about it from Tessa. Lord knows whom she got the news from. I think it's a good thing, Tilda. But it's only a start. A good start, but this man isn't your next husband.”

“How do you know that?” Tilda asked. She was surprised by her father's tone of certainty.

“I'm old,” he said simply. “I know some things.”

They were silent again for a moment and then Bill sighed and got up from his chair. “Well, I'd better go inside and get cleaned up. Think about what I said, Tilda. Oh,” he added. “Your aunt is making a seafood pie for dinner. I hope you have a good appetite.”

Tilda managed a small smile and nodded.

 

Bill had just showered and changed into fresh clothes. He came into the kitchen to find Hannah on one of the stools at the bar top. She was drinking a glass of iced tea and leafing desultorily through a magazine.

“Mind if I join you?” he said.

Hannah smiled and closed the magazine. She hated magazines, all of them, even
The New Yorker.
She found them all somehow disappointing. Why did she even bother to pick one up? “Of course not, Dad,” she said. “There's iced tea, if you want some.”

Bill poured himself a glass, added two teaspoons of sugar—he had a sweet tooth—and sat at the stool beside Hannah's. “I was talking to your sister earlier,” he said. “I told her she should consider remarrying. I don't think she was very happy to hear my opinion.”

“I know. She's struggling. She's still mourning Frank.”

“Frank isn't coming back.”

“She knows that, Dad. It's just hard. Well, you should know. You lost your wife. You've been through the grieving process.”

“Yes.”

“Anyway, she has been seeing someone. A summer visitor. I think she said he lives in Florida.”

“I know.” Bill smiled. “Everyone in town knows. It's a good sign, a positive step. But then he'll go back to Florida or wherever it is he lives and Tilda will be on her own again. I want her to have the courage to keep moving forward.”

Hannah hesitated. She did not want to pry but she was interested. “Dad?” she said. “Before Jennifer, was there anyone else? I mean, after Mom died, of course.”

“No,” Bill said immediately. “Your mother was a hard act to follow. And—” Bill frowned down at his iced tea.

“And what?”

“I was a bit—tired—from that marriage.” He now looked up at Hannah. “I'm not saying anything bad about Charlotte, you understand that. But, well, life with her could be a bit exhausting. And then Ruth came to live at Larchmere so soon after her death, and I didn't feel lonely like I might have, rattling around this big house on my own.”

Hannah was surprised at his revelation. She knew her mother had been a difficult woman but she had never been sure her father had been fully aware of his wife's difficult nature.

“So, then what changed when you met Jennifer?” she asked.

“I don't know, exactly,” Bill said. “Time had gone by. And I was immediately drawn to her, even though she was married at the time we met. I suppose you could say I had a crush on her! I never thought she would get divorced and that we might actually have a chance together.”

“So, things just sort of—happened.”

“Yes. I suppose you could say that.”

“That's what I told Tilda she should hope for,” Hannah said. “Something to just happen, like it did with Frank. I told her it's still possible she could meet the second love of her life when she least expects to meet him. I hope I wasn't wrong to say that. What if she never does meet anyone special?”

“You weren't wrong to encourage your sister to live her life, not just sit back and watch it pass. No one can promise her happiness but she knows that.”

“I wonder what Mom would tell her, if she were alive now. What do you think, Dad?” Hannah asked. “What advice would Mom give Tilda?”
And what advice would she give me?

The question gave Bill pause. In fact, it upset him in some way. Finally, he said, “I don't think she would have had much advice to give. I don't think she would have had much sympathy, either, for Tilda's mourning. Your mother wasn't—she wasn't a terribly emotional woman. Oh, she had lots of good qualities. Just—well, being warm and fuzzy wasn't one of them.”

Hannah took a sip of her tea.
Charlotte McQueen was cold. That's what you mean to say, Dad. That's what you want to say. But I understand that you can't.

“Jennifer seems very different from Mom,” she said carefully. “Aside from both being stylish.”

“Yes. Jennifer is quite different.”

They were silent for a moment, drinking their tea.

“You're not your mother, Hannah,” Bill said suddenly. “In fact, you couldn't be less like her.”

Hannah was stunned. It was as if her father had been reading her mind all this time. She didn't know what to say. Finally, she asked, “Am I like you, then?”

Bill smiled. “You're better than I am. You're braver. You've had to be. And you're a heck of a lot prettier.”

Hannah laughed. “Gee, thanks, Dad!”

“Seriously, Hannah, I'm very proud of you. I hope you know that.”

Hannah blinked back tears and took her father's hand in her own. “Thanks, Dad. I do know it.”