Finding Tomorrow, page 2
“Tea ain’t gonna cut it,” she said as she stepped back into the kitchen, resisting the urge to shred the note into a million pieces so her sister never had to read what it said.
* * *
Dear Celia,
It breaks my heart to do this to you this way, but I know how strong inertia is and how easy it would be to fall back into our normal patterns if I tried to do it in person. I love you and always will, but I’m not in love with you anymore.
I’m sure we’ve both felt this growing distance between us, so this can’t be much of a surprise. For what it’s worth, the past thirty years with you has been my honor and I will always think on it fondly. I hope you will too…
Because this town is full of gossips, I wanted to be the one to tell you that, while I’ve continued to honor my vows to you, I’m ashamed to admit I’ve been having an emotional affair with Amanda Meadows. We plan to move our relationship forward now that you’re aware.
P.S.
Since you weren’t home and Amanda has a cocker spaniel of her own, I took Tilly so she wouldn’t be lonely. We can talk about sharing custody of the dog once you take some time to process and get into a good, healthy place with our new normal.
* * *
Everlasting affection,
Nate
* * *
He took.
Her dog.
The dog he hadn’t even wanted and barely gave the time of day.
Anna barreled around the kitchen, opening cabinets and slamming drawers in search of liquor. No hard stuff, but eventually she found an unopened bottle of champagne chilling in the wine cooler and a jug of orange juice in the fridge.
Morning mimosas. How utterly sophisticated. Nate would approve.
On that note, she pried the cork from the bottle, slugged five gulps straight from the opening and handed it to her sister, who watched in wide-eyed silence from her perch at the kitchen island.
“You’re going to want to guzzle about half of that right about now. For medicinal purposes.”
She expected Celia to argue, but to her credit, she accepted the bottle wordlessly and did as she was told.
Then, with a silent prayer, Anna laid Nate’s letter on the countertop in front of her sister. She couldn’t watch. Instead, she paced the kitchen floor and waited.
It didn’t take long.
“Amanda Meadows…our realtor?” Celia gasped.
The realtor who had sold them the very house they were standing in.
The house that was supposed to be their forever home.
The bitter irony wasn’t lost on Anna, but she kept her expression inscrutable as she studied Celia’s devastated, tear-ravaged face, which crumpled before her very eyes.
For the next ten minutes, she just let her cry it out. Ugly, wracking sobs that had her doubled over. Sobs that the Cee-cee of three days ago would’ve never allowed herself to indulge in. Then, once she had quieted and caught her breath, Anna squatted at her sister’s feet and forced her chin up to lock gazes with her.
“I know you’re hurting right now. I can’t even imagine how difficult this is. But you need to redirect that sadness and get angry. He left you after thirty years and was too much of a chicken to do it to your face. Honey, he TOOK YOUR DOG! What kind of man does that?”
Celia sniffled and, for an instant, Anna caught a glimmer of the old, spitfire Cee-cee, B.N. as she wiped away her tears.
“He did, didn’t he?”
“He sure did. Let phase two of sister-helping commence,” Anna announced. “We’re going to that homewrecker’s house and getting your damned dog back.”
Chapter Two
Amanda Meadows? Celia still couldn’t wrap her head around it. She was thin, blonde, and only a decade younger, which put Amanda in her early forties. Celia could understand if she had let herself go, but she’d always been so diligent about looking her best. Nate had made it clear he expected her to maintain the perfect image, even if he’d never outright said so. He didn’t have to.
“The saying that people judge a book by its cover is true,” Nate had said years ago when Celia had encouraged him to go to the grocery store wearing his painting clothes—spattered jeans and an old T-shirt. “Clients judge their professionals by the image they present to the world, and you never know when you’ll run into an existing client or a potential new one. You always want to put your best foot forward.” The look he’d given her own jean shorts and T-shirt had made it clear his lecture was meant for both of them.
The importance of maintaining appearances was so central to his life, it had slowly but surely become ingrained in Celia’s psyche. She no longer owned a T-shirt or pair of jeans. When she took Tilly on their walks on the beach, she wore a cute pair of capris and a blouse in the summer, and a cashmere sweater and slacks in the winter. No slacking for Celia Burrows.
She made sure she got to the gym four times a week and played tennis whenever the weather permitted. The second her dark hair showed a hint of silver, she was at the salon. So if Celia was at peak condition for a woman in her early fifties, why would Nate trade her in for a woman only slightly younger? It made no sense. After all they’d been through…all they’d built?
Tears burned her eyes and her sister’s face became blurry. She’d spent her entire life making Nate happy and he’d just tossed her to the side like a piece of Tilly’s poo…which he’d never bothered to pick up before.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Anna said in a stern voice. “This isn’t a time for crying. It’s a time for action.” When Celia didn’t immediately respond, she added, “Think of Tilly, Cee-cee. Think of your dog.”
An unexpected fury rose up in Celia, which shot a jolt through her system. She’d spent years keeping her emotions under control, and now in a matter of less than an hour, she was experiencing two vastly different extremes. Sorrow, she was familiar with, but rage? Rage was unladylike, yet here she sat at the gleaming marble island of her ultra-modern kitchen, aching to burn or stab something.
Celia grabbed the champagne bottle from her sister’s hand, then took another long swig, the bubbles tickling the back of her throat. She’d bought this champagne to celebrate the upcoming anniversary of her and Nate’s first date. How ironic she was drinking it to celebrate their demise.
Setting the bottle on the counter with more force than she’d intended—she was already tipsy, God help her—she stood and straightened her back. “Let’s go get Tilly.”
“Do you know where this woman lives?” Anna asked, then grimaced as she glanced at the champagne. At least a third of it was gone. “We should probably take an Uber.”
“No need for that,” Celia said as she headed for the back entrance that led to the beach, sitting on the sleek bench to put on her walking shoes. “The homewrecker lives two blocks down the beach.”
After she slipped on her shoes, she stormed out the door, leaving Anna to follow. Her sister fell in beside her, and to Celia’s surprise, Anna had brought the champagne bottle.
Celia couldn’t suppress the giggle that rose up inside her. A giggle! Like she was seventeen years old again, sneaking a bottle of peach-flavored vodka from her parents’ liquor cabinet. She should be horrified, but instead, she snatched the bottle and took another gulp.
“I take it you hadn’t suspected,” Anna asked softly.
“No. But I should have known something was up,” Celia conceded, now feeling like a fool. “Nate’s been taking Tilly for regular walks on the beach lately. I thought he was trying to bond with her to make me happy, but deep down, I knew it was strange. He never gave her the time of day before.”
And then there was the way he’d started attending more client dinners, always without her. Nate used to call her his lucky charm. She’d closed more than a few deals for him by convincing the wives, and sometimes husbands as more women took the business world by storm, of his clients that he was the guy to get the job done. But she couldn’t remember the last time he’d invited her along. He’d told her that the business world was changing—spouses attending meetings was old-fashioned. She’d believed him, but now she wondered if it were true.
She stopped in her tracks, her feet sinking into the damp sand she’d stepped in.
What if Nate was embarrassed of her?
Anna came to a halt, worry filling her eyes as she examined Celia’s face. “What?”
“Am I old, Anna?” Celia asked, her voice breaking. “What if Nate’s ashamed of me?”
Anger morphed Anna’s face into a war mask. “If he’s ashamed of you, then the man’s a fool. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“But why? Why did he leave me?” Celia hadn’t meant for it to come out as a whine, yet there it was anyway, one more slip in her perfect persona. Ladies never, ever whined. “What am I going to do?”
Anna grabbed both of Celia’s arms and stared her deep in the eyes. “I don’t know why the fool left you, but one thing I do know is that you will survive this, Celia. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
Celia could see why her sister believed that. She’d worked hard to cultivate that part of her image, too. When the kids were in school, she’d headed up the PTA, and she’d chaired multiple charities over the years, always making sure that Nate’s business was a featured sponsor. (“It’s good for my business to look charitable,” Nate had often said. “Everyone loves a community-involved business.”) Volunteer work filled her schedule, even more so since the kids had left home, and she was also the primary caregiver for Pop, a task that was becoming progressively more difficult due to his early onset dementia.
The world saw Celia Elizabeth Sullivan Burrows as a competent, capable, strong woman and now her carefully controlled world was crashing down around her.
Anna gave her a little shake. “You can do this, Cee-cee, but let’s take it one step at a time. First up is Tilly.”
The reminder that Nate had dared to take her dog reignited her fire so hot that the imaginary flames could have burnt her eyebrows. “Who the heck does he think he is?” Celia demanded, pulling out of her sister’s grasp. “Stealing my dog!”
“That’s right,” Anna shouted. “Stealing your dog! Let’s go!” She took off stomping, and when Celia didn’t immediately join her, she reached back for Celia’s wrist and dragged her along.
Thinking of Tilly and that God-awful note, Celia forced her feet to work.
They passed the bottle between them again.
“What are you going to say when you see him?” Anna asked.
What was she going to say? The question nearly stopped Celia short, but Anna kept on marching, and Celia hurried to keep up. She wasn’t going to cry, that was for certain. Nate hated her tears, and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he’d broken her. That thought brought a resurgence of heat to her gut. He hadn’t broken her. She hadn’t spent years building up her image to resemble an immovable flag pole in a Nor’easter, just to fall to pieces because he’d chosen to trade her in.
Everyone had a defining moment in their lives and this would be Celia’s. She’d be even stronger than before.
As soon as she got her dog back.
She was still in mission mode as she turned away from the ocean, heading up the beach toward a picture-perfect beach cottage painted the palest of pinks, fifty feet from the high-tide mark.
“This is it?” Anna asked, her voice firm, but Celia could hear the wobble.
“Yep,” Celia said, stopping at the base of the steps to the deck. She headed up before she chickened out.
“Tell her Barbie called and she wants her dream house back,” Anna cracked as she started to follow her up, but Celia turned around abruptly, nearly losing her balance. She grabbed onto the railing to steady herself.
“No. You stay down here. I need to do this on my own.”
Uncertainty drifted over Anna’s face, and even in her alcohol-induced haze, Celia realized Anna didn’t think she could do this. While the world saw Celia as strong, they didn’t see her as a wave maker. Well, Celia Burrows might have been a smoother in the past, but she was about to crash a giant tsunami into her husband’s face.
Celia’s back stiffened. “If I look like I’m caving, jump in, but otherwise, let me do this.” Her voice wavered. “I need to do this.”
Anna gave a sharp nod, her eyes narrowing with determination. “Go get your dog, Celia.”
Celia gave her own sharp nod then spun around to march up the rest of the steps. The champagne bottle clanged against the wooden railing, reminding her that she hadn’t handed it back to her sister after her last gulp. She nearly walked back down to do it...Nate would cringe at the very thought of a lady drinking from the bottle, but her tipsiness was increasing by the second, and suddenly, she didn’t give a rat’s crack.
Ladies didn’t make scenes, either, and Celia was about to make a big, stinky one.
The middle of Amanda’s house featured a row of three French doors that opened to a stellar view of the ocean. Celia walked to the middle set of doors and knocked loudly.
Tilly came running over, scratching on the glass in a frantic effort to get to her owner. It took everything in Celia to ignore Tilly and focus on the shocked expression of the man walking through the living room toward her. He was wearing Bermuda shorts, for heaven’s sake!—and shirtless to boot. Amanda trailed behind, wearing a short, blue silk nightdress with spaghetti straps.
Nate froze when he realized who was banging on the door, then hurried closer, scooping up Tilly and cradling her before he opened the door. The image of her precious pup in his arms looked so wrong, it only made her angrier.
Why was he pretending to love her dog?
Why did he pretend to love me?
“Celia?” Nate said, looking her up and down and seeming even more confused.
Celia glanced down, not surprised by his bewilderment. She was wearing her pale pink Clarks shoes with her tan linen pants and she was sure her hair was as wrecked as her mascara. Her back stiffened as her gaze jerked up to his.
“You can walk out of my life like the coward you are, Nathan Burrows, but how dare you think you could take my dog?”
His mouth dropped open like a fish, his eyes bulging in shock. No wonder. Celia was certain she’d never spoken to him in such a direct way in their entire relationship.
“Your dog?” Amanda demanded from behind him, her cocker spaniel trying to get past her onto the deck. “Matilda is Nathan’s dog.”
Celia took a step backward as disbelief slammed into her. She struggled to keep her balance. “Who’s Matilda?” she asked, turning her attention to the blonde. “Is that what he told you Tilly’s name is?”
Amanda gave Celia a pitying look. “While you call her Tilly, Nathan says he prefers to use her given name.”
Celia’s brow wrinkled as she put it together, then she burst out laughing.
Nate looked like he wanted to bury himself under a giant sand castle.
“What’s so funny?” Amanda asked, then turned to Nate. “Why is she laughing like that?”
Nate finally seemed to come to his senses, pointing to the bottle in Celia’s hand. “She’s drunk.” Disgust washed over his face. “Go home, Celia. I’m not coming back with you, and you’re making a fool of yourself.”
“Making a fool of myself?” Celia demanded with a short laugh. “You’re the one lying to your mistress.” She spat it out like it was a dirty word.
“It wasn’t like that,” Nate said, his tone softening. Tilly began to struggle in his arms, trying to get free. “We didn’t sleep together.”
“Until you moved in here, at least,” Celia sneered. If he had been telling the truth about their lack of a physical relationship, their current attire indicated that ship had officially sailed. “Were you throwing your suitcases in the car as soon as Jackie picked me up on Friday afternoon?”
His cheeks went ruddy. She’d been fishing, but it was obvious that she’d guessed right. “Celia, I know this is hard for you to understand—”
“That’s right,” Celia said, poking him in the chest over Tilly’s back. “It is hard for me to understand why you slunk away like a little weasel after thirty years of marriage. You couldn’t be bothered to tell me to my face, and then had the nerve to steal my”—she shot a glare to Amanda then back to Nate—“dog!”
Tilly finally squirmed free and leapt from Nate’s arms onto the deck, trotting around Celia and sitting behind her feet. The show of solidarity from her four-legged friend bolstered Celia’s courage.
“Her name is Tilly, and it has been since I adopted her five years ago after Max moved out. The dog you never wanted and barely tolerated.” She shot a glare to her husband. “I can’t believe you had the audacity to tell her that Tilly was yours!”
“Well, of course she is,” Amanda said as though Celia’s argument was preposterous. “Nate walks her on the beach every night because you can’t be bothered to do it. My spaniel Heather and I have walked with him every night for the past three months.”
Ah, there it was—her suspicion had been spot on, although she took no pleasure from it. This explained her husband’s sudden enthusiasm to take over Tilly’s nightly walks at a precise time—7:40. He’d told her it was for health reasons, and when she’d offered to go with him, he’d insisted she take a bath or watch her favorite TV show instead, finally telling her it was his alone time to unwind and reflect on the day. Turned out he’d been reflecting on Amanda Meadows instead.
“So you lied to her, too?” Celia said, becoming firmer in her resolve. “You lied to us both.”
Nate’s face paled. “Uh…”
“The details aren’t important to me,” Amanda said, draping herself against Nate’s side, her bright red fingernails resting against Nate’s bare arm.
Red nails? Nate hated polish. He said it looked trashy.
Amanda gave Celia another pitying look. “He was miserable with you, but he’s happy with me. We love each other.”
Celia nodded as she took this all in, her emotions shifting in her head like a game of Tetris. Her anger had settled down, and her need for revenge now reared its ugly head.
