Hamptons Surprise, page 17
“I think you’re being unfair and pretty sexist.” Isabel dragged a wheat cracker through the pimento cheese and crunched it in her mouth.
As Isabel expected, Jessica came to her husband’s defense. “He’s concerned about the Beachcomber, that’s all.”
“And what about Alice? Why not be concerned with her well-being?”
“Now you’re the one not being fair,” Finn said. “You know I care about Alice. I only want what’s best for everyone.”
“And you’ve made it clear that you think leaving the Beachcomber to Alice isn’t what’s best,” Isabel said.
Finn inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. “It doesn’t matter what I think. The Beachcomber wasn’t mine to give.”
Damn right it wasn’t, Isabel thought.
Jessica must’ve sensed the rising tension because she swiftly changed the subject. “We’re sorry about you and Jackson,” she said. “We both liked him.”
Isabel maintained a neutral expression. If she looked too giddy, they might suspect she’d met someone new and she wasn’t ready to have that conversation, not before she knew this was more than a fling.
“I thought you two were headed to the altar, for sure,” Finn said.
Isabel drank more of the wine. “That would’ve been a recipe for disaster.”
“Why would you say that?” Finn asked. “You seemed to get along well.”
“We got along, but we wanted different things in life.”
“You mean he didn’t want to get married?” Jessica asked. She turned to check the contents of the oven. From the scent in the air, Isabel guessed they’d be having vegetable lasagna.
“Oh, he wanted to get married, have kids, the whole nine yards.” She hesitated. Was she ready to talk about this? Her gaze flicked over Finn and Jessica. If anyone would understand, it might be them. “But I recently came to the conclusion that I don’t.”
Jessica turned back to face her. “You don’t what?”
“I don’t want kids.” There. She’d said the words out loud to her family. Now they were true.
“What made you realize that?” Finn asked. “Was Jackson talking about it?”
She took another sip of wine. “No. I found out I was pregnant.”
Jessica stared at her, a wild look in her eye that made Isabel wary. “Pregnant?” Jessica repeated.
Isabel lowered her gaze, unable to handle the intense eye contact. “Yes.”
Jessica shot her husband an accusatory look. “Your sister is pregnant.”
“I’m not anymore,” Isabel said quickly. “I had a miscarriage.” She glanced at her brother with a puzzled expression. Was this a conservative reaction because she was unmarried? Finn and Jessica weren’t generally judgmental about this sort of thing, not that Isabel had ever noticed anyway.
“You’re only a year younger than me.” Jessica seemed to be talking more to herself.
“I’m sorry about the miscarriage,” Finn muttered.
“It worked out for the best,” Isabel said. “If I hadn’t gotten pregnant, I wouldn’t have realized I don’t actually want children.”
Jessica opened her mouth to say something but then seemed to think better of it.
“I guess Jackson was upset,” Finn said.
Isabel fidgeted with the stem of her glass. “I don’t know. I never told him about the baby.”
She’d suffered alone for those few months. The whole experience had been unpleasant and somewhat traumatic, but it had also allowed her to look inward and examine her feelings. If Jackson had been a part of the grieving process, there was a chance she would’ve let his feelings supplant her own and then she might not have realized her true feelings until it was too late. Of course, the miscarriage had only been the first step toward self-awareness. It was Mason who’d given her the final push she needed. No matter what happened with their relationship, Isabel was grateful to him.
“Is that why you were on the outs at the memorial service?” Jessica asked. “Because you felt guilty that you didn’t tell him about the baby?”
“I’m sure that played a role.” She couldn’t seem to stop her hands from fidgeting. “The thing is, Jackson is sure he wants children. It would’ve devastated him to know I’d lost his baby.” Jackson, she learned during their painful breakup conversation, had pictured them getting married and moving to Connecticut. He wanted the white picket fence and the dog and two kids. He wanted to coach baseball and drink beer with the other dads while Isabel gossiped with the moms and compared stories from the toddler trenches. Isabel didn’t want any of that, except possibly the dog.
“I think it’s selfish to be able to have kids but not want them,” Jessica snapped. Her face was flushed with anger.
Finn placed a hand on his wife’s arm. “Jess, she had a miscarriage.”
“Good thing, too,” Jessica said. “She doesn’t deserve a baby.”
Isabel grabbed her purse from the counter. “I’m sorry. I think I should go.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Finn said.
Jessica jerked her head away, but not before Isabel saw the tears that streaked her face. It had been a mistake to confide in them. She’d thought they were the most likely to understand, but there was obviously more going on with them than she realized.
* * *
Finn walked his sister to the door and said good night. He watched her disappear into the darkness and continued to stand at the open door, absorbing everything she’d said. Part of him felt guilty for not knowing what his sister had been going through, but how could he? If Isabel wanted to keep her struggles to herself, there wasn’t much he could do about it.
Strangled sobs erupted from the other room and he quickly shut the door to keep the noise inside. He spun around and made a beeline for his wife. Finn found her on the sofa awash in tears. He was so unaccustomed to the sight of his wife crying that he briefly hesitated before rushing to her side.
“Can you believe her?” Jessica choked.
Finn knew there was nothing he could say to make his wife feel better right now, so he let her vent. He listened as she spewed a string of curse words in connection with Isabel and every other woman they knew who’d demonstrated the ability to conceive. He knew deep down she didn’t mean any of it. She was angry and lashing out, and Finn was her safe space. He’d apologize to Isabel later. Right now, his wife needed him and that was the only thing that mattered.
* * *
Chelsea had all the ingredients for Brendan’s grandmother’s meatloaf recipe set out on the kitchen island. Her only addition to the time-tested recipe was a mixture of cheddar and parmesan cheese. It was her way of channeling her creativity without reinventing the wheel. Plus, cheese. What’s not to like?
The phone vibrated on the countertop and Chelsea glanced at the screen. There was a short list of people for whom she’d answer an actual phone call and Alice was one of them.
Chelsea put her sister on speaker. “Hey. How are you?”
“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. Do you have a second?”
Chelsea’s gaze shifted to the ingredients. “I was about to make a meatloaf for dinner, but it can wait. What’s up?”
“Ryan and I have been discussing some of his ideas for the Beachcomber…”
“Ryan, the general manager?”
“Yes, and we…”
“He’s a good-looking guy,” Chelsea interrupted.
“That’s not why I’m calling.”
“Maybe it should be.”
Alice laughed. “Now you sound like Mom.”
Chelsea huffed in mock indignation. “Take that back or I’ll never speak to you again.”
“I’m calling because we could really use someone with writing experience.”
Chelsea turned to lean the small of her back against the counter. “Is this a pity call because I got fired?”
“No, of course not. Selfishly, I’m glad you got fired because it gave me this brilliant idea.”
“Are you buttering up your own sister?”
“Does my sister not need buttering?”
Chelsea smiled. “Butter is an essential ingredient in this house. What is it that you need?”
“Remember how you used to write marketing materials for some of the local attractions?”
“Yes.” Chelsea’s heart began to hammer in her chest. She certainly needed the work, but what if she couldn’t give Alice what she wanted? What if the writing wasn’t good enough, but Alice felt obligated to use her work and the Beachcomber suffered as a result?
“We need someone to get the word out about Light Up Your Life. Get the local press interested. The website could also use a complete overhaul. The descriptions sound like they were written by a robot.”
Chelsea chewed her lower lip. “Are you sure you don’t want to hire a professional?”
“What are you talking about? You are a professional. Light Up Your Life is obviously the priority. It’s coming up fast and we could really use your wordsmithing.”
Tendrils of fear uncurled in Chelsea’s stomach and spread to her extremities. “That’s such an important event.”
“Exactly.”
She began to pace back and forth in the kitchen. “You sound pretty invested in the Beachcomber’s success. Does that mean you’ve decided not to sell?”
“Not yet, but I still want to do what’s best for the business and Ryan has some great ideas. Even if I sell, everything we’re doing now would only boost its value.”
“I don’t want to let you down,” Chelsea said quietly.
“When have you ever let me down?”
Chelsea’s fingers tightened on the phone.
“Please, Chelsea,” Alice said. “I need help and you’re my best bet.”
Chelsea shoved her fear aside. For once in Alice’s life, she was asking for help. How could Chelsea refuse? “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“You’re the best. Thank you so much. Seriously, you’ve saved me from hours more work that I can’t handle. I’ll text you the details.”
Chelsea set down the phone and drew a deep breath. She could handle this. The deadline was the event itself, so Chelsea wouldn’t give herself the chance to turn on her inner critic. She’d simply get to work. Alice wasn’t asking for a dissertation on the history of the Beachcomber. She needed help publicizing a charity event that involved good wine and good food and was important to her family. Now that was something Chelsea could do.
* * *
Finn took a chance and showed Dr. Davis the house near the Shinnecock Canal with the hundred-foot dock. The doctor might be older and wiser, but there was one thing Finn had learned that the doctor seemed to have forgotten—the most important decisions in life required compromise, a fact that was omnipresent in the real estate business.
The doctor’s eyes twinkled as he meandered through the charming house with its rustic decor. Finn could practically sense Dr. Davis picturing himself in each room. Sometimes a client connected with a house and Finn was certain this was one of those times.
They finished their tour of the house and enjoyed a walk along the dock. Dr. Davis raved over every aspect of the property in his own quiet way and seemed sad to leave at the end.
They returned to Finn’s office, chatting in the car about summer plans and Finn resisted the urge to rush the doctor along. He’d make a decision when he was good and ready.
Finn headed inside and Dr. Davis excused himself to make an urgent phone call. Finn thought nothing of it. The doctor frequently stopped in the middle of an outing to speak to a patient. Five minutes later, the office door swung open and Dr. Davis appeared.
“I’d like to make an offer,” he said.
Finn nearly collapsed on the floor. He never thought the day would come. Of course, the truth was that he liked Dr. Davis and enjoyed spending time with him. On the other hand, Finn’s goal was to sell the man a house. His wasn’t a friendship service.
“Was it the dock that sold you?” Finn asked.
Dr. Davis shocked him by saying, “No. I’ve talked it over with Marcie, and we’ve decided to go with that pretty little number at the beach. The white one with black shutters.”
The beach? Finn was confused. “But I saw the way you looked…and all that talk about bay people versus ocean people…”
Dr. Davis rubbed his forehead with his thumb, a gesture that Finn had grown accustomed to during their time together.
“There are also people who want to stay married versus those who are willing to get divorced.” He smiled. “My wife has kindly informed me that she wants to keep the windows open at night and listen to the waves.”
Finn couldn’t argue with that. One of the best sounds in existence. “But she can’t do that in a bay house.”
“No, she cannot.”
Finn had been surprised by clients’ decisions before, but this one took the cake. “I thought you really loved the bay house.”
“Oh, I did. It’s perfect for me, but my life isn’t only about me. You’re married. You know what that’s like. In a marriage, you’re only as happy as the least happy spouse.”
Finn understood. “Aren’t you going to be sad, knowing it’s out there and you’ve chosen somewhere else?”
Dr. Davis looked at him with surprise. “Quite the opposite, Finn. I’m going to rest easier knowing what’s possible. And who knows? Maybe I’ll meet the owner of a bay house like that one and we’ll hit it off. Then I’ll get to spend time there, too. Best of both worlds.”
“Marcie doesn’t want to see the house before you make an offer?” Jessica would skin him alive for that. He and Jessica were a team, and that meant all their important decisions were made together.
“She trusts my judgment. After all these years, she knows I’m going to make the right choice for both of us.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Sometimes there’s a bit of foot dragging involved on my part, but I always get there in the end.”
They discussed the offer and Finn felt confident they’d be able to seal the deal.
“I’ll shoot over an email right away,” Finn said. “Congratulations, Dr. Davis. You’re going to spend the summer here in your own home. I can feel it.”
“Marcie and I trust you to make it happen.”
Dr. Davis opted to sit outside on a bench, basking in the spring sunshine, while Finn ducked into the office to email the listing agent, Debbie. She replied quickly to say she’d speak to her client and get back to him, and returned with a counter-offer. The negotiations took under an hour, with Finn relaying updates to Dr. Davis on the bench, where he continued to sit with his head tipped back and his eyes closed. Only when a deal was reached did Finn allow himself to relax.
“The timing will be tight,” Finn said, “but the closing should happen close enough to the start of summer so you won’t miss the best weather.”
Dr. Davis nudged his elbow. “You should be proud of yourself, Finn. This wouldn’t have happened without your persistence and attention to detail.”
Finn slumped beside him on the bench. “It wouldn’t have happened without your loyalty and endless patience either.”
“I’m only loyal when it’s deserved, you know. Never for the sake of it.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I hope you and Jessica will come by and see us on occasion,” Dr. Davis said. “You’d be very welcome.”
“Just tell us when and we’ll be there.”
Finn had never been more in love with his job than he was right now, and not only because it was his biggest deal to date. He’d worked hard and gotten results. It helped that Dr. Davis was a genuinely nice man. He didn’t melt down last summer when he failed to find the house of his dreams. He didn’t ditch Finn and choose a new realtor this year either. He persisted in his quest, making compromises in order to achieve his goal. Yes, Finn very much wished all his clients were like Dr. Burton Davis.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ryan couldn’t stand still today. He flitted from the cellar to the kitchen to the vineyard, unable to stay put for long. Light Up Your Life was tomorrow night and he was unusually anxious about the event. He knew why, of course. The charity event was the finish line for the Beachcomber’s new owner. Every time Alice entered a room, he swiftly departed unless they needed to discuss an event detail. They both had important decisions to make. He spent last night reading about ex-pat life in Argentina and trying to imagine himself there, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Alice.
“Ryan?”
He snapped back to reality and there she was again—Alice—in the doorway of their shared office. “Hey, is there a problem?”
“No problem. Duke is looking for you. He said he texted you.”
Ryan’s gaze swept the desk and he located his phone under a stack of papers. “Oops,” he said sheepishly.
Alice eyed him closely. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Ryan thought of the winery in Argentina, waiting for an answer from him, and knew it was now or never. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure.” She entered the office and sat in the chair across from him. “You might want to text Duke first, though.”
Ryan shot off a quick reply to buy himself time. Duke’s problem wasn’t urgent, but Ryan knew if he didn’t speak to her now, he might not get another chance.
“I know we’ve been focused on getting through tomorrow night, but I’ve been thinking about our conversation.”
“Which one?” she asked. “I talk to you more than I talk to anyone these days.”
He couldn’t decide from her tone whether she thought that was a plus or a minus. “The one where I had ideas for the Beachcomber.”
She fiddled with her phone. “I see. And you want to talk more about this now?”
His chest was so tight, it felt ready to explode. “I know it might not matter to you, but I’d still like your feedback.”
Alice tucked away her phone. “I’m listening. What else would you like to do?”
