Cape May (13 page)

“Goodnight, Joanna,” said Michael.

She stopped on the step. “Goodnight,” she said, not turning around, and went inside the house.

Michael said to Brian, “Why don’t I pick you up around 9:40. The Woodline House is a fifteen-minute walk from here.”

Brian said, “Great,” but obviously was troubled by
Joanna’s outburst. He stared at the other man a few moments.
“Well, it’s been a very long day. I need to get to bed.”

Michael nodded, instantly jealous about where Brian would be sleeping.

Brian said, “’Night,” as he dragged the suitcase up the front steps.

Michael stood there alone for a moment, then turned and walked slowly towards his own bed and breakfast.

***

Joanna was already upstairs when Brian entered the Manor Rose. She left the door to their room ajar, and when he stepped into the room she was closing the bathroom door. He put his things down and said through the door. “Jo? You okay?”

“I’m brushing my teeth.”

Inside the bathroom, Joanna splashed cold water on her face. What was happening? She didn’t even know Michael…but that wasn’t true. She felt she knew him
well—
his kindness, his humor, his intelligence, his gentleness.

But what did it matter.

This was ridiculous, having these feelings for someone she’d known less than two days. Was this yet another postmenopausal surprise? She thought the physical changes were over, but apparently not. Whatever was going on in her suddenly excited body, it probably had nothing to do with Michael. Being on this adventure near the majesty of the ocean, and dealing with the life decisions she and Brian were contemplating, all could explain her raging emotions.

She breathed deeply and felt a little better.

She exited the bathroom and walked to Brian. “I’ve an awful headache.”

“How’s your eye?”

“Hmm?”

“The sand?”

“Oh, it’s fine now. Got it out with water.” She turned away from him, not ready to meet his gaze. She went to the mini-fridge and got out two bottles of water. “Amazing how much one grain of sand can hurt, huh?”

“That’s how a pearl is made, they say.” He embraced her from behind.

She turned, handing him a bottle of water. “I’m so tired. I’m not used to being in the sun all day.”

“My turn,” he said, going into the bathroom.

She grabbed her pajamas, quickly put them on, and climbed into bed. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep when Brian crawled in.

Lying there, feigning the steady breathing rhythms of sleep, her mind raced. She wouldn’t go on the tour tomorrow. She’d tell Michael that she and Brian had to meet with someone or do something, maybe go see the Tea & Scones again. The Tea & Scones. Her dream house in this perfect town, everything she’d ever wanted, until a few hours ago. How did this happen? She had to get back some control.

She’d simply never see Michael again. A painful sadness overtook her. A bottomless sadness.

CHAPTER 10

When Joanna woke up, there was a note on her pillow. “
You tossed all night. Let you sleep. I’m at breakfast. B.
”

She moved her body slowly, worried that something might come apart. The coffee and food smells that got her going yesterday were too much today. As she walked to the bathroom, images from the night before flooded her mind. Her face flushed remembering the kiss. The beveled mirror hung over the sink but she wouldn’t look into it as she brushed her teeth, unwilling to meet her guilty face. Resolved not to think about anything, she dressed and went down to have breakfast with her husband.

She grasped the banister hard going down the stairs. Once in the dining room, the noise of the conversations and the smells of the food were overpowering. The chair next to Brian was empty and waiting. She sat, grateful to be off unsteady legs.

Brian said, “I’m relaxed, for a change. You getting food? This frittata is great.”

She couldn’t face eating. “In a minute or two.”

The kitchen door swung open. A woman holding a carafe offered “Coffee?” How long ago was Joanna sitting at this B&B dining room table, talking like a normal person, sitting like a normal person, able to function? It was twenty- four hours ago but seemed like weeks.

“Jo?” Brian said. “Coffee?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry. Still asleep. Need the caffeine, huh?” she said, trying to smile at the woman.

“We haven’t met. I’m Claire Masterson, co-owner of the inn. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived yesterday. Are you enjoying your stay?”

“Yes, it’s peaceful.” Joanna reached for the sugar.

Brian whispered to her, “You okay? You’re shaking.”

“I’m just…” should she say
sick
or
scared
or
having feelings
for someone who isn’t you
? The words swam around her head.

“Hmm?” Brian touched her hand.

“Tired. Can’t wake up. Maybe that was a migraine last night. I can still feel it.” She rose to get some food, not hungry but not wanting to be under Brian’s gaze. When she sat down again, she attempted to be social and eat and drink and act normally. But she had the feeling that her life would never be normal again. What was wrong with her? One kiss with a stranger, was that it? No, she was guilty, that was it. Talk to Brian. He’s the one that could be hurt by the weirdness.

She turned to him. “You like the food?”

“Are you kidding? This is great.”

She looked at her watch. It was almost nine. “Brian, let’s skip the tour today.”

Brian stopped mid-forkful. “Why? The lady with the coffee said the house is really worth seeing. And didn’t what’s-his-name go out of his way to arrange it for us?”

“It’s probably no big deal.”

“Well, now I want to go. Why don’t you?”

“It’s so nice outside. Why be stuck in a house?”

“It’s only an hour and a half, tops.”

“I don’t feel like it,” she said.

“Oh, come on. Come with me. Us. He’s your new friend.”

“Why don’t you and I go play miniature golf or
something.”

“Is this what my future holds? The excitement of miniature golf and skee ball? No wonder you want to leave Manhattan for all this.”

“That was mean.” A few people at the table turned
towards them. She realized she was too loud.

“I’m teasing. Lighten up. What’s wrong with you today?”

“Nothing,” she whispered this time. “Stress. I don’t know.”

He paused. “You said on the phone you were all re
laxed but you’ve been acting weird since I got here. What’s going on?”

There was an uncomfortable pause. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but Susan, my assistant, called from work yesterday. One of our doctors didn’t send in his presentation. It may
mess up my deadlines, and my boss is already fed up
with me,” she said, hoping this little white lie would cover her behavior.

“You hate that dumb job anyway.” They paused as Claire poured more coffee for them.

Joanna stalled. “Claire, this breakfast is wonderful.”

“Oh, I’m glad you like it.”

“Yes, the eggs were perfect. I could eat three servings.”

“I’ll tell our cook. Would you like anything else?”

Joanna shook her head, and Claire retreated into the kitchen.

Brian continued, “Well, I think we should go on the tour. Also, your new friend would be disappointed if we canceled.” He took a sip of coffee. “He likes you.”

Joanna’s head snapped in Brian’s direction. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, it’s obvious. He wants to help. Not everyone
would house hunt with a stranger. I barely want to help you.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

He put sugar in his coffee and stirred. “Is he married?”

“Divorced.”

“He lives in Manhattan?”

“Yup.”

“You think he’d like your sister?”

“Cynthia?”

“We could set them up.”

“Let’s not.”

“She’s still attractive. And Michael’s handsome, much better than some of those old guys she’s jumped into
bed with. You think he likes sleeping with pushy, obnoxious
women?”

She looked at her watch. “If we’re going, I’d better
get ready.”

“I’m all ready. I’ll stay here and read until we leave.” He grabbed a newspaper off a nearby table. “What a luxury not to be staring at spreadsheets.” Joanna started to walk away and he took her hand. “Jo, I kinda like it here. The air’s nice. The vibe.” She tried to smile at the good news.

Joanna escaped breakfast and walked up the stairs to their room. Once inside, she felt trapped. Trapped and terrified. Terrified of seeing Michael again in minutes. She sat on the chair and breathed deeply, with her eyes closed. About ten years ago she had attended a meditation class and now was trying to remember all the steps to centering herself, to stop thinking about Michael’s blue eyes, and how good it felt in his arms. Sitting in her room alone her whole body was buzzing. What was going on? Brian was lucky if he “got any” once a month. Clearly she needed to be physical with her husband more often. Breathe, Joanna, breathe. Deeply. Be. Quiet. She was disciplined and stayed with her clear mind and deep breathing and in a few minutes felt better able to face what was ahead.

At 9:35, she was on the stairs leading down to the parlor, killing time looking at each picture on the wall. One picture was a family portrait: father, mother with a baby in her arms, and six children of various ages and heights standing around them. Joanna whispered, “I love your house. Were you happy here? Were you happy?” At the turn in the landing there was a little window overlooking the street. A vase of fresh flowers sat on the sill. As she moved in closer to smell the orange, yellow, and red blossoms, she glanced outside.

There he was, coming down the street, with his baseball cap, and sunglasses. He wasn’t whistling this time, and his walk no longer had a lightness to it. Even from here she could see his second day’s growth of beard. Her entire body was suddenly aroused, remembering the feel of his stubble against her face and fingers. Why did stubble on Brian make him look like a homicidal wino—which was one of the reasons he always shaved—and on Michael it was so sexy. And why had she never experienced these feelings when Brian, or anyone else, was walking towards her. She watched until he disappeared inside the gate, heading to the front door. She’d be face to face with him in a moment.

The little bell over the front door tinkled, followed by Claire’s footsteps. Joanna stood frozen on the steps, listening to him reminiscing with his old friend. His voice was sad, he was talking slower than usual. Joanna wondered if Claire sensed anything different as she glanced down the stairs to watch them interact. It was obvious Claire was charmed by Michael’s polite attention. He was very charming. Behind Joanna, a guest came out of a bedroom and was headed for the stairs, so she was forced to move.

Claire was saying to Michael, “If you have any free time, let’s have coffee.”

Michael sensed Joanna’s presence and looked up to her on the staircase. “Sure. That would be nice,” he said to Claire with no conviction, his eyes locked on Joanna.

Claire looked from one to the other and said, “Uh, well, I’d better clean off the breakfast table before it’s already time for lunch.” She rushed into the other room.

Michael’s eyes were pained. “Joanna,” he said.

Brian came in from the parlor. “Hey. I’ll be ready in a minute. I forgot something.” He bounded up the stairs.

Joanna walked outside and put on her sunglasses,
glad for the barrier between the windows to her soul and Michael’s perceptive eyes. She said, with no emotion at all, “It’s a nice day.”

“Yes, nice.” They walked halfway down the block. He had to say something. “Look, last night…”

“Please, let’s forget it.”

“I don’t want to, Joanna.” The hurt look in his eyes both surprised and flattered her. “And I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

Her breath caught. “I’m married…” she said, hating
how stupid it sounded, pointing behind her in Brian’s
general direction.

“And I’d bet a lot of money that you don’t usually go around kissing men on beaches.”

She shook her head.

He continued: “I thought we…”

She continued shaking her head. “No we.” She knew he was hurting, because she was hurting too. “Maybe our lemonade was spiked? Or we were high on salt?” She tried to smile, but couldn’t.

The metal-against-metal sound of the gate warned them someone was coming. Brian arrived before they were ready and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

The three of them walked. Joanna gazed at and studied every house they passed. She wondered if Brian suspected anything, but she couldn’t risk making eye contact with him. From inside it, her face felt like an open, guilt-radiating book. She had to admire Michael. She couldn’t form a sentence, but Michael must have seemed, to Brian’s outside eye, fine. Brian asked questions, and Michael answered. Joanna knew he was struggling as much as she was, but he chatted with Brian about Cape May and history, and weather and Manhattan. In fact, Brian was much more chatty than usual. Interesting.

They reached the estate, and walked to the designated “good weather” waiting area under a tree. Two couples were already there, and an attractive, elegant older woman soon joined them. She smiled at everyone, especially Michael, and said, “Hi, I’m Madeleine, your tour guide.” Joanna stared at the woman as she spoke, glad to focus on anything other than her own racing thoughts. Madeleine was average height, slim, neatly dressed in a smart beige suit, with an apricot scarf the perfect accent. Her face was expertly made-up, and Joanna instantly felt unfeminine in her casual vacation attire and bare face. Madeleine turned her head, and her silver gray China doll hair swung like a commercial model’s. “Actually you have two tour guides today. Michael here knows almost as much about this house as I do.”

He bowed a little to her and said, “Not true, but thanks.” To the other guests, “This woman is brilliant about this estate and others in Cape May. Ask her anything.”

“
They’re outright flirting
,” thought Joanna. Madeleine’s
green eyes sparkled as she talked to Michael. But none of the other guests seemed to mind the flirting, or even appear to notice.

Madeleine said, “We’re expecting three other people, so let’s wait a few minutes before we start.” As visitors checked their phones for messages or chatted, Madeleine and her haircut, perfectly framing her delicate face, turned toward Michael. She said quietly, “Are you ever going to shave?” her hand reached up and playfully pinched his cheek.

“Madeleine, this is Joanna, the woman I told you about, and her husband, Brian. From Manhattan.”

Joanna’s brain fogged over, due to a combination of embarrassment
—what had Michael told Madeleine?—and a vision that flashed on the screen in her head, of Madeleine
horizontal under Michael in a four-poster bed. Or was
Madeleine more the riding-on-top type? Joanna blinked hard and forced the evil visions out of her head. It
shouldn’t matter to her at all. So why did it hurt so much.

She hid her irrational dislike of Madeleine and shook her outstretched hand. “Hi.” Brian did the same.

“Nice to meet you, Joanna, Brian.”

Joanna knew Madeleine was storing their names in her tour guide brain and would use them later. She heard Madeleine quietly say to Michael, “You staying over tonight?” Michael nodded, then two women and a teenager joined the group under the tree. Madeleine addressed the group: “Now that we’re all here: I’m Madeleine Friedhoffer, Executive Director of the Woodline estate. I think you’ll find this a fascinating tour. This house was built in 1870 by famed architect Frederick Schmidt for Mr. Alfred Louis Woodline and his wife Adele and their five sons. In today’s dollars it cost seventeen million to build. The estate originally was twelve acres, but now is half that size. Let’s enter through the front door, right into the main hallway of the house, as a visitor would’ve been shown in over a century ago.”