Folly Cove (32 page)

Sarah smiled, still with her eyes closed. “You're an optimist.”

“A realist,” he said. “An ex-optimist who's made a mistake or two himself.”

She'd thought Gil was about to say good-bye and let himself out of the apartment, but then he was back, sliding his arms beneath her.

Her eyes flew open. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“Taking you to bed,” Gil said. He laughed at her expression. “No, not like that.”

“You can't carry me there. That's ridiculous.”

“Indulge me,” he said.

To her amazement, Gil picked her up easily and carried her down the hallway, where he toed open the bedroom door—closed, as always, because she left the heat off in this room—and said, “It's like a friggin' icebox in here,” then lay her on the bed.

“What can I say? I'm a Yankee.”

“Yeah, a Yankee. Not an Eskimo.” Gil flipped the eiderdown quilt over her from one side, then added the afghan from the foot of the bed, tucking everything around her until she felt positively swaddled. After that he stretched out beside her.

“Don't get any ideas,” Sarah said, though the heat of his solid body was instantly and immeasurably comforting.

“No worries about that. I don't take my clothes off unless it's at least eighty degrees,” he said.

Sarah laughed and closed her eyes, forgetting, if only for a moment, who she was and what had happened, and all the troubles that might lie before her.

•   •   •

Anne spent most of the day working with the pastry chef, Sue, who was round, pale, and sweet unless you crossed her with an opinion of your own. She watched Anne make the oatmeal raisin cookies that her mother always kept in the reception area, several dozen of them.

Once Sue was satisfied with that effort, she put her hands on her hips and said, “Well, what's next? The bread?”

She walked Anne through the inn's bread dough recipes—sourdough and French bread today—and then, when the loaves were rising, asked her opinion about desserts. Anne suggested a cake she'd experimented with in Puerto Rico: a chocolate brown sugar butter cake.

“I could use a spiced pumpkin frosting since it's fall,” she added.

Sue clapped her fat hands together in a puff of flour. “Terrific suggestion,” she said, and left Anne alone after that.

Anne checked her phone. Thankfully, the recipe—culled from a magazine some tourist had left at the bar in Luquillo—was still in her notes. The beauty of this recipe was that she could partially freeze the cake layers to make them easier to fill and frost, so she was less apt to make mistakes in finishing it off.

She decided to triple the recipe, given that the restaurant had been full every night she'd been here, and began searching for ingredients: brown and white sugars, eggs, unsweetened cocoa, flour, baking powder, salt, baking soda, sour cream, and chocolate syrup. Everything was here. There were even cans of pumpkin puree and white chocolate bars for the cream cheese frosting. Maybe she'd add pecans as well.

Three hours later, she was finished. The cakes were the best she'd ever made. Anne asked Rodrigo to taste a sliver of one to be sure, and his brown eyes gleamed with pleasure.

At two o'clock, she was done for the day, plus she had tomorrow off. A good thing, since her arms and hands ached from the dough and her back was tired.

At home, she made soup from a leftover chicken she'd roasted the night before, adding whatever veggies she could find in the fridge, then put Lucy in the backpack and hiked through Halibut Point. She invited Flossie to come with her on the walk, and to share the soup as well, but her aunt shook her head and seemed subdued.

“Just tired,” she answered when Anne asked if anything was wrong. “I'll see you tomorrow with your sisters, though, right? Around ten o'clock?”

“Sure,” Anne said, though she'd forgotten all about that mysterious meeting. “I wish you'd just tell me now what it's about.”

“No. The three of you ought to be together,” Flossie said firmly, but her eyes held none of their usual mischief.

Maybe the baby was wearing her out. Lucy was enough to wear anyone out, Anne thought crossly some hours later, as she tried eating soup with one hand while keeping Lucy from screaming. She must be teething: yes, there was a bud, a shimmer of white, the gum inflamed around it, poor thing.

Anne finished her dinner and was about to consider taking another walk with the baby to see if that would soothe her when someone knocked at the door. Sebastian!

No, it couldn't be. Sebastian was out of town for three days, at a conference in Washington, D.C. They'd had their one night together—she was flooded with desire every time she remembered how they'd
started making love on the floor of the cottage, on this small rug, until he'd gathered her in his arms and carried her to bed, her bra pushed up over her breasts and her panties halfway down her thighs because they'd been in too much of a hurry to undress properly.

Then there was the baby: finally they'd slid the crib out of the bedroom because Anne felt too self-conscious to make love with Lucy in the room. Mercifully, for once Lucy had stayed asleep.

He'd had to leave for Washington the next day. It worried her that she hadn't heard anything from him, especially knowing how vulnerable he was, now that he'd told her about his wife.

And about his unborn child. Oh God. To lose a baby.

Anne kissed Lucy's head as she opened the front door. As tired as she was, she was grateful to have her baby right here in her arms.

To her shock, it was Laura who stood on the porch outside, looking miserable. Her face was leached of color and her eyes were a flat cement gray. She wore an oversize sweatshirt and stained jeans, and her hair was unwashed. She had aged ten years since the last time Anne saw her.

“My God, what is it? Is everything all right?” Anne asked over Lucy's shrieks.

“Not here, apparently,” Laura said, eyeing the baby. “What's going on with the kid?”

“Teething, I think.”

Laura placed a gentle hand on Lucy's forehead. Then she worked her fingers into the baby's open mouth and felt the gums. “Yup. Let me in and I'll help.”

“You're already in,” Anne grumbled, but stepped aside.

Her sister went straight to the galley kitchen, stomping in her usual way even without boots. She pulled open the drawer with the potholders, pulled one out, and ran it under cold water. Laura stuck the potholder in the freezer for a moment, then returned and handed it to Lucy, who seemed to understand that she should jam it into her mouth.

The silence in the house was absolute except for the steady rhythm of the waves against the beach below and the ticking yellow kitchen clock, which, with Laura standing here, sounded like a bomb about to go off.

“I should have thought of that,” Anne said. “The books always say to keep washcloths in the freezer for them to suck on to numb the gums.”

“Frozen bagels,” Laura said. “That's what I used for Kennedy. They last forever.”

All Anne's long-dormant fantasies about having her sisters around when she had her first baby resurfaced momentarily. In college, whenever she'd fantasized about getting married and having a family of her own, she'd imagined she and her sisters would share maternity clothes and recipes and help each other through teething and tantrums. Their children would play at the Folly Cove beach every summer, knowing each other as family.

If she had stayed here and had a baby, Laura could have taught her to be a good mother, just as Laura had taught her how to tie her shoes and write her name when Anne was a child.

If Laura didn't hate her, that was.

“Thanks. I'll buy bagels next time I shop.” Anne kept her eyes fastened on her sister's face, but Laura's expression was still flat. What had she come to accuse her of now?

Kennedy, she decided. Laura's daughter had visited several times. Well, she might as well come clean and get this showdown started.

“Kennedy's great with the baby,” she said. “I suppose you've found out she's been coming around here to help out. Lucy loves her.”

“I know. It's fine.”

“It is?” Anne went to the couch and sat down. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not when Laura followed her, still with Lucy in her arms.

It was all like a dream, really, seeing Laura hold Lucy, but Anne couldn't decide whether the dream was good or bad.

“Yes,” Laura said. “Though I was pissed off at first when Kennedy told me. You could have asked me first.”

“How?” Anne demanded. “I was afraid you might slap me again!”

“I know. I'm sorry.” Laura inhaled so sharply that Lucy looked up at her, grinning. Laura smiled back, but her lips were trembling. “Sorry. I'm a mess. You'd better take her.” She passed the baby back to Anne. “You're probably wondering why I'm here.”

“Oh, no. This all feels very normal,” Anne said.

Lucy immediately started wriggling, so Anne stood her up on the couch. Lucy bounced on the cushions, shrieking.

“Jesus. I've forgotten how loud babies can be,” Laura said, raising her voice above the noise. “Anyway, look. I came to apologize.”

About freakin' time,
Anne thought. “Why now?”

“Jake told me the truth.” Laura started crying, but it was almost like she was standing under a faucet: water was running down her cheeks without any other outward sign of her weeping. “He told me a lot of things, actually.”

“Like what?” Anne asked, thinking this day couldn't get any stranger.

But it did. Laura said, “Jake's gay.”

“What?”
Anne's tone caused the baby to stop jumping and stare at her. Anne made a funny face while keeping her eyes on her sister.

“Yes,” Laura said, sniffing hard. “He told me last night.”

Anne stared at her, too shocked to speak, as her sister got up and went to the paper towel rack. When Laura pulled, several towels came unraveled. She took them all, fluttering the paper like a scarf beside her as she sat back down on the couch. She blew her nose on one end. “Apparently he's in love with another man. They have a son.”

Anne didn't ask about the mechanics of that. She was already too confused and grief-stricken, looking at Laura's ravaged face and slumped shoulders. “Why did he go through that whole charade with me, then?”

“To see if he could get it up for women who aren't me, apparently.”

“If he couldn't do that for you, I don't see how he could for anyone,” Anne said.

Laura sniffed again. “Thanks for that.”

“Have you told Kennedy?”

“No. Jake and I decided to tell her together next weekend. That will give us time to calm down and figure out what to say. Kennedy went to school this morning, and then she's spending the night with a new friend. I canceled my lessons for the afternoon. I just couldn't cope.”

Anne wondered whether it would come as a surprise to Kennedy that her father was gay. She couldn't remember much of what her own
parents had actually said during their various shouting matches, but the substance was clear enough: Dad thought their mother was playing around, and Mom said he was a lazy drunk.

“I'm so sorry, Laura,” she said.

Laura shook her head. “I'm the one who should be apologizing. If I'd been using my head, I would have realized something was horribly wrong with my marriage. I mean, I guess I did know that, on some level, but I was too scared to dig deep enough to figure out what was really going on.”

Anne thought about Colin, about his “business” trips to New York and his late-night phone calls. “It's not always easy to see the truth when you love someone,” she said. “But it will be all right. You and Jake both love Kennedy. You'll work out a way to tell her, and you'll both be there for her. You followed the path you thought you were on, as Flossie would say. You got married and had a wonderful daughter. Your path just didn't lead where you thought it would.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” Laura smiled and held out her arms. “Here. Give that baby back to me.”

F
inding Colin was simple. Elly Googled his name and it popped up immediately. He'd been blogging about his still-unfinished novel, of course. Building his freakin' platform. She felt a zing of satisfaction and searched for the address under his wife's name, figuring if Wifey was the one paying the bills, she'd be the one whose address and phone number were listed in the white pages online.

Bingo: Writer Guy and Wifey lived in Brooklyn, just four hours away.

Elly was using her laptop in the kitchen. The empty house loomed around her. Not even Kennedy was home. She wondered if Jake had told Laura the truth last night. Guilt pricked at the back of her neck: if he had, it would be Elly's fault when the marriage fell apart.

Whatever happened, Elly hoped Jake would keep his promise and not tell Laura that Elly had forced him to come out.

“It'll go better with Laura if you tell her everything yourself,” Elly had decided last night, as she, Jake, and Anthony tried to pretend they were hungry enough to eat pizza. “If Laura thinks you're doing this on your own, she'll be more inclined to believe you have her best interests at heart.”

Once Elly finished the search for Colin's address on her computer, she called Anne to tell her, and was shocked to hear Laura's voice in the background. “Laura's at your place?”

“Yes. Elly, something awful has happened.”

“I'll be right there,” Elly said, after almost slipping up and saying, “I know.”

At the cottage, she could see from Laura's haunted expression that the conversation with Jake had happened, but she continued to pretend she didn't know anything. She'd have to wait for Laura to confide in her.

Laura was holding Lucy, who was sucking on a dish towel. “What did you do, dip the towel in vodka to keep the kid quiet?” Elly asked.

Laura laughed. A thin sound, but genuine enough. “No. It's frozen so she can gum it to death. She's got jaws like a pit bull.”

“You okay?” Elly asked softly. “You don't look okay.”

“I think the answer's no, but I'm numb right now,” Laura said. She told Elly about Jake while Anne carried Lucy into the other room to change her diaper and put her in pajamas.

“I still can't believe I was so stupid. And so blind!” Laura concluded.

“You were trying to make your marriage work,” Elly said. “Jake genuinely loves you. I think that's probably what made it so hard for him to tell you.” She stopped herself before she could slip up and say anything about following Jake and seeing his other life. His other family! “Does Anne know?”

Laura nodded. “I've apologized to her, of course.”

“Good. And I've got just the adventure to take your mind off Jake,” Elly said. “Anne! Get in here! I found Colin. Laura and I are going to help you get the child support he owes you.” She showed them the map on her phone and explained her plan.

“But we can't just drive to his house in New York.” Anne's face looked pinched, the freckles standing out across her nose. “Barbara will be there!”

Elly shrugged. “So? It's not like your existence will be a news flash to her. And it's time you got some financial support. Colin owes you that much.”

“No,” Anne said. “He didn't even
want
a baby.”

“Did you plan to get pregnant?” Laura asked.

“No! It was an accident. We took a chance.” Anne shot Laura a look. “For the record? You were right about the whole ‘don't-date-married-guys' thing.”

“Thank you. Though, for the record? I'm a bigger screw-up than you are. Remember that anytime I give you advice.”

Laura paced the room, looking fierce now. Of them all, Laura was the one who had inherited their mother's ruthless determination. She would be fine without Jake, Elly decided with relief. “Come on,” she said. “Let's hit the road.”

“Elly's right, Anne,” Laura said. “You made a mistake, but so did he. Legally, you're both financially responsible for raising Lucy. You need to make him help you.”

“But Colin doesn't want anything to do with her! Or with me.” Anne looked like she might cry. “He made that clear from the beginning.”

“Then he should also have made it clear to his penis that no babies were to be made,” Laura said.

Elly laughed. “Yes, Colin absolutely should have given that penis of his a good, stern talking to!”

Anne stared at them, and then suddenly she was laughing, too, hard enough that she had to clutch her side. “Stop!”

Elly wiped her eyes. She'd forgotten what it was like to laugh with her sisters. Nobody else could transport her to this euphoric, drunken state of mirth. “Let's go,” she said. “If we leave now, we can be in Brooklyn by eight. I know they're home because I called them.”

Anne stood up straight. “You did
not
.”

“I did. Barbara answered the phone. I told her I was selling magazine subscriptions, and she said I ought to be careful, because they were on a no-call list. I thanked her and promised not to call again.”

“Crafty,” Laura said. “But they could still go out to dinner or a movie or something. That's a long drive to make if nobody's home.”

“Oh, they'll be there,” Elly said. “It's a weekday. Even if they go to the movies, I'm betting it would be an early show.”

Then, without any more discussion, the three of them were putting on their jackets and heading for Laura's car, as if they took sisterly road trips every day of their lives.

Lucy settled easily into the rhythm of the ride and fell asleep
within ten minutes. Elly glanced at Anne in the rearview mirror, and was relieved to see that her little sister looked less tense now, her eyes drifting shut, too.

Beside her, Laura was sitting rigidly upright, staring out the windshield as if it were her job to mentally steer the car through traffic.

“You're going to be okay,” Elly said softly.

Laura didn't turn her head to look at her. “I know. In a weird way, I think I'm relieved that there's an actual reason my marriage imploded. A reason that has nothing to do with me.”

Elly nodded and patted her sister's hand on the seat.

Anne had to stop and nurse Lucy by the time they reached the last rest stop on the turnpike before Connecticut. They piled out of the car and ordered cheeseburgers and fries that tasted of fish and old oil. They ate while Anne fed the baby, munching their way through the awfulness.

“It's like you get halfway through one of these burgers and you wonder what the hell you're eating and hate yourself,” Laura said.

“But you finish it anyway,” Elly said. “It's like a pact with the devil: no cheeseburger shall be left half-eaten.”

“Rodrigo would have a fit if he saw us,” Anne said.

Laura gave her a curious look as they headed back out to the parking lot. “Are you happy cooking? Do you like it better than teaching?”

“So far,” Anne said. “And I think I can make enough money working part-time in the evenings so I can spend the days with Lucy.”

“I'm wowed you and Laura are both such good moms,” Elly said. “You give me hope.” They were back in the car by then. “I mean, we didn't have much of a role model, right? Mom wasn't exactly Mother Teresa.”

“More like Miss Hannigan,” Laura agreed with a laugh.

“Who?” Anne asked.

“You know: the woman who runs the orphanage in the musical
Annie
,” Elly said, and broke into song: “‘Little girls, little girls . . .'”

Laura joined in. “‘Everywhere I turn I can see them!'”

Anne was laughing. “Oh, man. Poor Mom. Remember how we used to sneak into her closet and play dress-up with her evening gowns? And that time I drew a sunset on the porch floor with her lipsticks?”

“‘Poor Mom'? You need your head examined,” Laura said. “God. All those chores. Bathroom after bathroom. Making beds. Peeling potatoes. She was a slave driver!”

“Well, Dad wasn't around, so she was probably panicked all the time about money,” Anne said.

Elly rolled her eyes at Anne in the rearview mirror. “Still. She could have given us a hug once in a while. Would it have killed her? I see you two kiss your daughters every day and remember how we had none of that. We probably have whatever Romanian orphans all have.”

“Attachment disorder,” Laura said. “I think Mom has an attachment disorder. Which is really weird, since she grew up with rich parents in a tony part of Boston.”

“Still, we turned out all right,” Anne said.

“Speak for yourself,” Elly and Laura said in nearly perfect unison, and then all three of them were laughing hard enough that Lucy woke up and threatened to cry again until Anne popped a piece of frozen bagel in her mouth, courtesy of one of the sympathetic workers behind the counter at the Dunkin' Donuts where they'd bought coffee.

Colin's house was on an upscale, narrow street of brownstones. Elly decided it was the sort of neighborhood where nannies would cluster at the park they'd passed before turning onto his street. Colin probably chatted them up before starting his arduous day of blogging at the coffee shop.

Elly was beginning to wonder if any man could be trusted. Look how their father had walked out on them. How Hans, Colin, and Jake had all kept secrets from the Bradford sisters. Not small secrets, either.
Crap, crap, crap men,
as her friend Paige had said.

Well, she was officially done with love and trust and all that, Elly concluded as the three of them mounted the front steps of Colin's brownstone, the baby in Anne's arms. From now on she planned to model her life on Flossie's: she would live a productive life in the company of women.

They stood back as Anne rang the bell. A woman who Elly assumed must be Barbara opened the door. She wore a short satin robe over plaid pajama pants. If she'd been a man, Elly would have called that
garment a smoking jacket. Her hair was gray and cut too short; it made her ears stand out. They were slightly pointed at the tips.

Anne surprised Elly by speaking up first. “Hi, Barbara,” she said. “Remember me?” She pushed into the hallway past the other woman.

Elly and Laura followed and stood behind her. The house smelled like laundry detergent and cats.

Barbara stared at the baby first, working her mouth into some unidentifiable shape. No sound emerged for a moment. Then she said, “Wait here. I'll get Colin.”

“Thank you,” Anne said, sweet as a Girl Scout with an order form for cookies.

Colin appeared moments later. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a robe similar to Barbara's. Maybe Barbara shopped in bulk. He had the same curly gray hair and broad face as his wife, though on him the features were rugged and handsome.

Elly could see what Anne had found attractive about him: Colin exuded a sexy warmth even as he tried to stare them down.

“What are you doing here, Anne?” Colin demanded after a moment of openmouthed shock had passed. “How did you find me?”

“Nice way to greet the mother of your child,” Laura snapped.

Elly gave Laura an admiring look.

Colin held up his hands, as if they had him at gunpoint. “What do you want, Anne?” he said. “It's over between us. I made that very clear in Puerto Rico.”

“She wants child support, you loser.” Elly edged forward so that she was standing next to Anne instead of behind her. “You forgot that little detail when you scampered back to Brooklyn and your surprisingly understanding wifey. I'm sure it was just an oversight.”

“I can hear you!” Barbara called from another room.

“Good!” Elly yelled back.

“You're not helping,” Anne said, turning around to glare at her sisters. “Go back to the car. I can handle this.”

“No.” Laura stepped forward, too, so that she and Elly were flanking their little sister. “We're staying right here until your needs are met.”

“Jesus,” Colin said. “What is this, your personal army?”

“Sort of,” Anne said. “Meet my sisters.”

Colin kept his eyes on Anne. “Look, we had an understanding,” he said. “You wanted a baby. I didn't! You said you could take care of the child on your own, so I let you have things your way.”

“But things are different now!” Anne said. “I thought we'd be together in Puerto Rico. You never said you'd leave me! But you did, and then I lost my job. I put all my money down on our apartment, so I had nothing left. I was supporting you because you told me you were getting
divorced
!”

Elly hoped like hell Barbara was still listening with those pointy terrier ears.

Colin's shoulders sagged. Elly wondered how old he was. Fifty? He was at that age when some men hold their youthful shapes and faces, while others fall apart. Colin had probably been handsome all his life, the kind of good-looking that would draw people to him, especially women, and let him command a room. A stage, even. He'd probably held on to his looks through the affair with Anne, but he was definitely falling apart now. He should have stayed in Puerto Rico.