Look on the Bright Side

Chapter Ten

“Okay, she’s inside,” Joy said, peering out at the guesthouse. “So you found the iPad, saw that he was messaging her, and then what?”

Joy had been nothing but wonderful from the second Ellie had walked through the door four hours ago. To her horror, Ellie had burst into tears. She never cried! All the suppressed rage and fear and shock and hurt erupted out of her the minute Joy said “I’m so glad you’re here!” and Ellie found herself leaning on the counter, sobbing.

Joy hugged her against her substantial chest, made sympathetic noises and showed her to her room. “I figured something had happened when you called,” she said. “I’m sorry, hon.”

Hon. From a woman she barely knew. Joy was an oddity—this flamboyantly dressed woman with huge false eyelashes and heels who rarely was seen anywhere but the market. She’d been included at the holidays—Lark had told them she didn’t have family—but she and Ellie had only exchanged pleasantries.

Ellie managed to get out a strangled “Thank you, Joy,” but Joy waved it off.

“Take a bath, get in your jammies and I’ll make us a charcuterie board. I can’t cook much, but I can slice, and I loaded up on cheese and stuff at the Wellfleet Marketplace. I also got chocolate, just in case. Take your time, honey. If you want to talk, sometimes it’s easier to tell a stranger, and if you want to keep it to yourself, no hard feelings.”

It felt like she was in a dream…a horrible dream set in the prettiest room she’d ever seen. Hydrangea blue walls, a giant white bed, a view of the sunset, a floral-printed chair and ottoman. The bathroom had a soaking tub and a blue-tiled shower with myriad controls and bottles of expensive soap, shampoo, conditioner, moisturizer.

When was the last time she’d taken a bath? The old claw-foot tub in the kids’ bathroom at home was scarred and chipped—but oh, the happy times the kids had had in there, like otters splashing and playing when they were little. The tub in the primary bath was plastic and not as deep. They’d been meaning to replace it for twenty years now.

What was she doing here? And how could she ever go back, knowing what she knew? She missed Gerald. She hated Gerald. She wanted to go back in time.

Instead, she turned on the faucets of the giant tub and did what Joy had told her to do. And when she came downstairs and saw the wine and the food and Joy sitting there like a peacock version of the Buddha in her bright clothes, all sympathy and kindness, the story had poured out.

Nutshell version, Gerald had once maybe dated this woman in high school, this Camille Dupont person. In the first few messages, they’d revisited their Nauset High School days. Camille had had a crush on him. He’d had one on her. They’d gone to a football game. There’d been some unspoken misunderstanding regarding someone named Lonnie. Too bad. They’d never gone out again.

Then came the what have you been up to since then? conversation. Camille had gone to college at the University of Alabama and become a geochemist. Got her PhD and worked in the oil and gas field. Lucrative? It was, LOL. Recently retired. Married once, long divorced. One grown son who lived in Seattle and worked for Amazon. No grandchildren. Had lived in Houston, Nashville, Santa Fe and now had a house on the coast of Maine. Couldn’t resist the lure of New England.

That was as far as they got before Lark had come in. It felt so good to tell someone. Reading the messages in her office all day, the door locked, had been a surreal sort of hell. She’d barked at Meeko not to interrupt her and turned on some music so he wouldn’t hear her crying. Sitting here on Joy’s giant L-shaped couch, Ellie felt both comforted and furious at the same time.

“She sent him the link to her house,” Ellie said, passing the iPad to Joy. “Four thousand square feet. Who lives alone in a house like that?”

“I do,” Joy said mildly, clicking through the pictures. “But no offense taken. Wow. That’s really pretty.”

“I know. It’s pretty much my dream house. Which I hate her even more for. It sold for one point eight million dollars. Is that what she wants Gerald to know? That she’s loaded? I guess raping the earth for a giant gas and oil company paid well.”

“My last husband was in oil, too,” Joy said. “Literally more money than he could count.” She passed the iPad back to Ellie, then poured them both more wine. “What else did they talk about?”

“Me. Apparently, my heroic nurse husband is ignored by his workaholic wife.” Her voice choked off.

“You? Come on! Lark always talks about how happy you two are.”

“I thought we were. Stupid of me, I guess.”

Yes. The DMs told a very different story than the life Ellie thought she and Gerald had. As for Gerald, well. Ellie learned quite a bit about him, let’s just say that. Gerald had had a very rich and rewarding career as a nurse. Heroic? Well, if Camille said so, that was very sweet. (She gagged when she first read that.) All nurses were heroes, Gerald replied. Yes, he’d wanted to become a nurse practitioner. But because of his wife’s career, there hadn’t been the time.

“I’m the one who wanted him to go back to school,” she told Joy, dashing rage tears out of her eyes. “He told me he didn’t want to be away from me and the kids more than he already was. It wasn’t because of my career!”

“Men lie a lot,” Joy said, taking another piece of cheese and nibbling on it.

“So I’m very talented, he said. Just consumed with my work. I have no time for him.”

Joy rolled her eyes. “What an ass.”

Yes, this woman Gerald was married to was a workaholic. Long days, very prestigious in the community, always trying to improve and move up. She gave her all to being successful, not leaving much left over for time together.

It was a punch in the stomach. No time together? They did everything together! Every dinner, every weekend, every family event…together. The only time she went away was a sleepover at Grace’s house when she was visiting their parents. Not much time together. Bullshit.

“He told Camille how much he wanted to travel, especially to South America so he could do some mountain climbing. Joy, he has never once said anything like that to me! He’s in love with the Andes,” she said, making air quotes. “News to me! And how could we afford that kind of a vacation?”

Joy shook her head. “Okay, cut to the chase. Did they have sex?”

Ellie looked out the window. “I…I don’t think so. Not according to this.” She handed the iPad back over to Joy, not able to look at it anymore. “But I think he…well. You read it.” She practically had it memorized by now, anyway.

Camille and Gerald had met for lunch in Boston’s North End at the end of October. I just wish they hadn’t kicked us out! Camille said. I could’ve listened to you for days. Can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.

Me too. So great seeing you. You haven’t changed one bit.

You’re too sweet. The years look great on you!! I always knew you’d get more handsome as you got older. We have to get together again soon.

Definitely! I’ll check my schedule.

Lunch with an old high school crush would’ve been…well, not great. But not the worst thing, either. It was the way he talked about her. His wife of thirty-eight years. How he painted her as tense and preoccupied. He admired her, he said, but it was hard, being married to an artist. Always in her head, being creative and thinking about what’s next. Doesn’t have much time for boring old me. Can’t blame her.

The obvious fishing for compliments worked like a charm on stupid Camille.

Boring??? The opposite, I think! Seriously, I LOVE talking to you. You have the best sense of humor, Gerry! And I don’t know, I feel closer to you than I do with most people. Probably because we go back so far. Anyway, have a sparkling day! Xox

A sparkling day. Gack.

Gerald had replied, You too! And…

Yes?

I really like talking to you, too. I feel like my old self again.

A day or two later, he was telling Camille about how excited he was, because his (not “their”) grandson would be visiting for a long weekend over Christmas.

More cute little exchanges, more flirting, more personal things about their family. He missed his mom. She’d been a saint, an “old-fashioned wife.” Ellie felt those words like a knife in her chest. Louisa had been a substitute teacher once Gerald started first grade, then later opened the bookstore Harlow now ran. But back then, it had been more of a hobby. Louisa hadn’t needed to make money to pay off their debt, because they didn’t have debt. Robert made a very healthy salary as an attorney.

A lot of Wellfleet families were wealthy, even before the Cape had become quite so expensive. Ellie had never yearned to open a gallery, not with five school-age children. She’d had to. And Gerald had been so supportive of it. Only now, talking to this slutty, wealthy Camille, suddenly he carried the burden of raising the kids.

“?‘Since Elsbeth is so caught up with work, I do most of the grandparenting myself,’?” Joy read. “That’s not true, is it? I mean, it doesn’t seem to be, from what I’ve seen.”

“No! It’s not true! Not at all. God, Joy! I want to stab him. I loved him yesterday, and I hate him today.”

“?‘Same with the house and property,’?” Joy read. “All on my shoulders, but I’m pretty handy and enjoy the work.’?”

“I wish he took care of the house and property!” Ellie said. “He’s been promising to paint the downstairs bathroom for twenty years!”

“?‘She sounds high maintenance. Do you have any time just to do your things?’ Oh, wow. That’s nervy.”

“Tell me about it.”

That line had made her screech when she’d read it this morning, rage-sipping coffee in her office. “He has all day, Camille!” she’d yelped. “All fucking day. He has no things. He putters. He moves shit from one place to another. He starts things and doesn’t finish them, and he texts women he knew fifty years ago.”

“Everything good, Boss?” came Meeko’s voice.

“I’m on the phone!” she barked. “Don’t disturb me, please.” Then she felt guilty, so she stood up and opened the door. “I appreciate you holding down the fort today, Meeko.”

“Is nothing.”

It’s your job, she thought, closing the door again. Back to the iPad to learn about this neglected, noble, underappreciated man named Gerry. Then…

Camille: I hope you liked the sweater…

Gerald: I LOVE the sweater! My favorite color. You really didn’t have to.

Camille: Oh, please. It was your birthday.

Yes. He’d worn a beautiful green cashmere sweater sometime around Thanksgiving. Ellie had complimented him on it, caressed the fabric, asked him where he got it.

“A wicked good find at Marine Specialties,” he’d said, naming the quirky, iconic shop in Provincetown. She hadn’t disbelieved him for one second. Then, before Christmas…

Gerald: Did you get the clock?

Camille: I was just writing you a note to thank you! I LOVE this clock! It’s so me! Where on earth did you find it?

Gerald: Just saw it when I was out and about and thought of you. It’s elegant and cool, just like you are.

Camille had attached a picture of the clock on her nightstand, her artfully unmade bed in the background. (Subtle, Camille. Subtle.) The clock was from Long Pond Arts. “He bought her a Christmas present from my gallery,” Ellie told Joy, grabbing another tissue.

“Are you serious? What a jerk.” Joy refilled both their glasses, the most Ellie had had to drink in years. The buzz helped, though. Made this feel like a shitty dream. “But did they ever have sex? You don’t have to tell me everything, of course. But…”

Ellie blew her nose. “Well…I don’t think so. She amped things up in January. Told him how hot he was and asked if he wondered what it would’ve been like if they ever hooked up. Made a pretty strong play for an affair. Here. You read it.” She passed the iPad back. The words were already burned into her brain.

Did you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d hooked up? I always thought you were incredibly hot.

LOL. Thanks. You’re still so beautiful. You must have men after you like a dog chases beef.

I’m extremely picky. I like them tall, funny and salt-and-pepper. (Hint: look in the mirror).

Thanks. You’re too sweet.

I’m gonna be honest here, Gerry. I love talking to you. I loved seeing you. I want to see you again. Let’s get it right this time and not live in regret. You only live once, right?

I’m flattered.

Life is too short for me not to put it on the line. I want to see you again. I want us to be involved. I’m falling in love with you, Gerry.

“Oh, ouch,” Joy said, grimacing as she continued to read. “?‘I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little bit the same.’ What a bastard.” She read a little bit more. “Can I just say I hate this Camille person? What a whore.”

Ellie’s eyes were streaming. Her husband had fallen in love—a little bit, if there was such a thing—with another woman. He put it in writing.

“Okay, but then he just stops,” Joy said. “She keeps asking him if he’s there, he ghosts her for two weeks, and then he puts an end to it. “?‘I do miss you, but I have to stop. I love my wife and I don’t want to make a huge mistake. I’m sorry.’ Good! He didn’t want to make a huge mistake. Not ‘I made a huge mistake.’ I’m taking that as they never hooked up. That’s the end of it, right? Nothing more?”

“I guess,” Ellie said. “Unless he sent her a letter. I looked at his email, but he didn’t send her anything.”

“He could’ve sent her something, then deleted it,” Joy said.

“True. I don’t think he’s that tech savvy, though.”

“Do you think that was the end of it? Did he act different after…what was it…January?”

Ellie sighed. “I…I mean, the holidays were over, we’d gotten used to being empty nesters, and we were back to being more like we were. We had a little…adjustment period last fall. No kids in the house, our oldest grandson living in town for a little while, so we were going to soccer games and that kind of thing. But we didn’t fight, Joy. We didn’t—” She hesitated, then figured what the hell. “We didn’t stop having sex. Ever. We’ve always been pretty constant in that area. And yeah, I guess I felt like we just settled back into place. Nothing was ever wrong, really. Just a couple months of…”

“Being off,” Joy supplied.

“Right. Meanwhile, he was dipping his toe in the infidelity pool. Maybe an entire foot. He drove to Boston to meet her. It doesn’t sound like they had sex, but it was cheating just the same.”

“My second fiancé?” Joy said. “He was married. Had another entire family the whole time we were together. I mean, he did tell me. But only after we were engaged.” She shook her head, then popped a mozzarella ball in her mouth. “What do you think, Ellie? Did he sleep with her or not?”

“I don’t…I don’t think so. Gerald has always been so…good. Decent, I mean. He has integrity. Well, he used to. I can’t really picture him crossing that line. And I think it would be in the messages, don’t you? I think Camille would say so. She wants to sleep with him. She doesn’t say anything like ‘Last night was so magical.’ So no, I don’t think he did anything physical.”

The wind had picked up, and rain slapped against the many glass doors that faced the ocean. The two women were quiet a minute.

“Well,” Joy said, “you can stay here as long as you want, Ellie. And I won’t say a word to anyone, hand to God, okay? You’re my friend now, and your secrets are safe with me.”

Fresh tears flooded Ellie’s eyes. “Thank you, Joy,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you how much that means.”

When she woke up, it took Ellie a minute to remember where she was.

It was such a pretty room, even lovelier in the natural light. Deep blue walls, white furnishings and that view! A swath of beach plums delineated the land before the violet-colored ocean, and the sky was pale and clear, a swipe of coral pink at the horizon. She could paint that. She would paint that.

Then panic flashed over her in a bristling wave. Gerald. Her husband had fallen in love with another woman, all via Facebook. Sure, it had ended, but that it had happened at all…it was still a betrayal. To her. For thirty-eight years, they’d been damn near perfect. Happy. Solid. Best friends. And then, five minutes after he retired, he was flirting with a high school crush. Such a goddamn cliché.

She had texted Gerald yesterday from the gallery, saying she was driving down to spend a night with Grace, the only excuse she could think that wouldn’t have him asking too many questions. Coming to Joy’s house…that had been an unwitting genius-level move. Ellie had not predicted crying all over her daughter’s landlady, but the second she’d seen the kindness in Joy’s eyes, something had burst.

She got out of bed and stood for a second, looking out at the ocean. What a privilege, seeing that every day. Then she pulled on her clothes, messaged Meeko to say she’d be late and went downstairs, stopping to admire some of the paintings on the wall, recognizing some of the artists. Oh, here was one of hers! She hadn’t seen it last night. Her heart swelled a little. Joy had bought one of her paintings…or the previous owners had. Joy had mentioned she bought it fully furnished. But someone had thought her art belonged in a house like this, and today, that was an ego boost she needed.

Joy wasn’t up yet, but Lark’s car was gone. Connery, however, was very happy to see her.

“Hello, puppy,” she said, petting his funny little head. She was more of a cat person, but who could resist that face? Ellie made some coffee, then took a cup out to the deck, Connery dancing along beside her.

This was some house. If a woman was going to have her heart smashed, she deserved to stay in a house like this. But how long would she stay? Joy had said as long as she needed, but…shit. Should she talk…She swallowed. Talk to a lawyer?

There was only one way to figure it out. She brought Connery inside so he wouldn’t be eaten by a coyote or fox, left Joy a note saying she’d check in later and thanks again, then got in her car and went home.

The house looked different now. Suddenly, everything seemed to be a message, a snotty snub from Gerald to her. The lawn mower still in her parking space. The rotting fence that she’d asked him at least twice to prioritize. The branch from the kids’ climbing tree, lying in the backyard, yet another job that would remain unfinished. Why had he caved to their backyard neighbor, who was an entitled prick? Why hadn’t he said, “Leonard, it’s a tree. Deal with it.” The kids had loved climbing that tree, and now it looked mutilated. Her granddaughters wouldn’t be able to climb it.

The rambling roses had become choked off with weeds and seedlings. Half of the lilac tree was dead because they hadn’t pruned it properly for years. Gerald hadn’t weed-whacked along the road. The front door needed painting, something Ellie kept meaning to do when she had time. The living room windowpane was cracked. Gerald had promised to get that fixed before Christmas four years ago. No, five.

Was this why she was working so damn hard, painting, running a business, being wife of the year? For these weeds and this rot and a cheating husband?

“Hey,” he said, opening the front door. “How was Grace’s?”

“Who the hell is Camille Dupont?”

His face went gray so fast she thought he might faint. He gripped the door frame and bent over. “Oh, Ellie,” he said.

She shoved past him into the house. “Don’t just stand there like a weakling, Gerald. Get your ass inside.” The kids used to say they were more scared of her when she was angry than they’d ever been of Dad. She had never been a yeller, or someone who got mad when a kid broke a glass or because the dry cleaner ruined a sweater. She didn’t even yell at idiot drivers, a rare trait in Massachusetts. No. Her anger was always reserved for the times when it was richly deserved.

She sat down at the kitchen table, which, you guessed it, hadn’t been properly wiped down after Gerald’s dinner last night.

Gerald approached warily.

“Sit the fuck down,” she said. Dug the iPad out of her bag and tossed it on the table. “Go ahead. Tell me all about your affair.”

“It wasn’t an affair. I did not cheat on you,” he said, but his hands were shaking. “We never had sex.”

What a shitty excuse. I did not have sex with that woman. Did men really think it was that simple?

“You mean, you didn’t put your penis in her vagina. Or mouth, one hopes. Otherwise, yes, you absolutely did cheat on me, you stupid, ungrateful idiot.”

He sat down, head hanging, and she could’ve punched him in the face, she was so furious. Gerald took a couple of breaths, his complexion still sickly. “Okay. Okay. Let me start by saying, Ellie, you are the love of my life.”

“Absolutely meaningless right now.”

“I had a…flirtation going on. You’re right. But it was the typical midlife crisis stupidity and nothing more.”

“It was a lot more, Gerald!” she yelled. “You were having an emotional affair. You cared about her. You missed her. You loved talking to her. It’s all right there, and I read every damn word.”

“Okay, honey, okay. You’re right. It got…I just kind of got caught up in it and forgot who I was, I guess.”

“You forgot? You forgot you were a husband for almost forty years? You forgot your wife loves you? At least, she used to. I mean, God, Gerald, what the hell was missing from our marriage that made you do this? Almost four months of pretending you were in high school again? Four months of leading some woman on? Four months of thinking about someone other than me?” Her voice broke on that.

“Ellie, no. I was just…you know. Just all the stupid clichés. I was bored. Robbie had moved out in the spring, then Lark in the fall, Matthew went back to California. Then Camille reached out, and I just…remembered.”

“First you forgot, now you remembered. Remembered what?”

“Those…those dopey high school feelings, that’s all. Like when your life is ahead of you and you have no idea what you’ll be or do or where you’ll end up. And…” He rubbed his hands over his face. “For a very short amount of time, I felt a little disappointed in where I ended up. Not with you, not that, not at all.”

“Bullshit. I read what you said about me, Gerald. How consumed I am with work. How I’m too busy to be a good grandmother. How I don’t have enough time for you, which is complete and utter bullshit. You didn’t mention that I’m working seventy hours a week because we can’t both retire. That we’ve been just getting by for the past forty years, and unless your father dies and doesn’t skip over us and give everything to the kids or a dog shelter or his girlfriend, I’ll have to run this fucking gallery until I’m eighty. Did you mention that? You got to retire, and this is how you show up for us? By fantasizing about Camille Dupont? Which totally sounds like a fake name, by the way.”

He let out a bark of laughter, and for a second, she felt a rush of satisfaction. He always did laugh at her jokes, which a lot of people didn’t appreciate. But he did. He had.

He stood up, dropped a hand on her shoulder, which she twisted away from. He did not get to touch her, no way. Gerald went to the sink, where he filled two glasses with water. As a nurse, he’d always been ahead of the curve on hydrating, long before everyone carried a Yeti.

When he sat back down, his color was better. Too bad. “What do you want me to say?” he asked. “I ended this back in January. If you read everything, you know that. I was stupid, I was bored, I was a little jealous and I flirted with a girl I knew in high school. I met her once for lunch. But that was it. I’m not defending it. I’m just defining it more clearly.”

“You gave her a clock from my gallery,” Ellie hissed. “Don’t boil this down to some trivial little flirtation, Gerald. You have damaged our marriage. I can’t trust you. That’s what I’ve learned. You pretend to be a loving husband, holding my hand all the time, but then creep up to the attic to DM some woman you haven’t spoken to in half a century.”

He grimaced. “Look, I made a mistake. I…I dipped my toe, but I didn’t jump in.”

They’d been married so long that they even used the same metaphors. He covered her hand with both of his. She pulled away.

“Ellie, I stopped with her as soon as I realized the damage I could do. I chose you, honey. I didn’t stop because I got caught. I stopped because I realized I was being an idiot. I am so sorry you found out, because it was never going to happen again. It was a blip on the radar, nothing more. Please forgive me.”

Shit. It was a good apology. He said everything the advice columnists instructed cheaters to say. He had stopped it of his own volition. He hadn’t let it go too far. He hadn’t told her about it to get it off his own chest.

“Well, if you think you’re getting a medal, think again. I’ve moved in with Joy. I’ve been at her house, not Grace’s.”

“Who’s Joy?” he asked, his brows drawing together.

“Lark’s landlady. She invited me to stay with her as long as I want.”

“You told her?”

“Yes, I told her. I had to tell someone. You want me to tell the kids about this?”

His face grayed again. “No, but…I…Honey, this is your home. This is where you belong.”

“You know what? I reject that, Gerald. This is where I live. It used to be my home, but I haven’t had the time or energy to enjoy it or work on it in years. You get to putter around here, doing whatever you want to. You ignore my list of things to be done and spend your day cutting down the branch that didn’t need cutting instead of fixing the lawn mower or the fence or moving your shit out of the garage or painting that hideous orange bathroom. I just go to the gallery, work, come home, work more and, if I’m lucky, get invited to Addie’s for dinner and maybe get to babysit the girls when they deign to ask us.”

“Honey, that’s not—”

She slammed her hand against the table. “Shut it, Gerald! You are not in a position to contradict me.” She pulled out her phone. “In fact, I’m calling a family dinner. Here. Tonight. Mandatory. And that’s when we’ll tell the kids Mommy won’t be living at home for a while.”

“Wait, wait, Ellie, hang on. Take a breath, honey.” She glared at him. “What are we going to tell them? Are you…do you think…”

“Are you scared they won’t love Daddy as much if they knew he was sexting someone?”

“I never sexted anyone.”

“Semantics.” But yeah, the kids would be furious.

At least, she thought they would be. What if they sided with him, though? Yeah, Mom, you’re so busy, you never, you always, Dad deserves, you should…Fear stabbed her in the heart. What if they alienated her? Thought dear old Dad was justified in looking elsewhere?

“For now, no, I’m not going to out you, Gerald. Yet. Just make sure all the kids are here tonight. No excuses. Now I’m going to pack. And by the way, I’ll be taking a lot of time off this summer, so you might want to get your ass back to the hospital and start working again.”

An hour later, she was sitting in the gallery office, door once again closed. Meeko clearly knew something was up, because he brought her a chai latte from Blue Willow—“On me, Boss”—an unprecedented event. She should get furious more often.

She wasn’t working. She was thinking.

She didn’t want a different life. She didn’t want a different man, or a divorce, or anything, really. But this wasn’t nothing. This wasn’t a blip. This had been more than three months of her husband engaging with another woman. Flirting, complimenting…talking about her, the grim workaholic artist, self-consumed. Every time he’d read or written a message, he’d been cheating on her.

If anyone had the right to complain about her, Ellie thought, it was her children. She and Gerald had bucked convention in having a big family. But they’d never been those parents who thought each kid was a superstar waiting to happen, or a fragile little hothouse flower who needed to be protected and explained and have special dispensations. They were kids. Let them bicker, make mistakes, get a mediocre grade (though Harlow and Lark never had). Let them figure it out. Free-range kids who could entertain themselves, do their own homework and help around the house while their parents were…well, the adults. Not the kids’ friends, not only Mommy and Daddy, but people and, most importantly, a couple.

After all, they had always known there’d come a day when the kids would leave and they’d be together, alone, for the rest of their lives. They wanted that day to come. That was the goal—raise the kids, not keep them like pets for their own entertainment, or have them stuck in perpetual adolescence, playing video games in the cellar, forever unemployed.

Gerald? Gerald had no right to complain about her. Or their marriage. It was ridiculous.

He’d said something that had flashed in her brain…and faded. Thanks, menopause. What had it been? She’d been too angry to hear it clearly, her own brain shouting the entire time. Right. The…interactions…had begun after Lark moved out, the last child to leave. He’d said he was bored, but seriously? He’d yearned to retire. But what was that other thing he’d said? Her angry, fizzing brain couldn’t grab on to it. She should’ve recorded the whole conversation.

Ellie thought of the divorced couples she knew. That pretentious idiot Brad Fairchild had cheated on Lillie Silva, and Brad had married someone else within the year (and ended up divorced from her, too). Grace suspected that Larry had cheated on her, but she was of the “don’t ask, don’t tell” school. Would she feel a sense of triumph to learn it wasn’t all sunshine and daisies for her and Gerald?

Enough ruminating. Time to paint. Ellie went to the stuffy little studio upstairs, where Cranberry Bog in Autumn #3 sat waiting. It was very pretty so far and would probably sell at a good price. Her plan had been to hang the bog paintings in August, when the summer people would be awash in melancholy about having to go home and would want to feel some fall, Capey vibes. Fishermen and cranberry farmers were popular subjects.

Instead of working on that now, though, she took out a fresh canvas—she stretched her own linen and always had a few primed and ready—and set it on the easel. Looked at her paints and chose a few colors for the palette. Navy, black, vermillion and gray. Then she attacked that poor, innocent canvas with slashes of color. She wasn’t going for anything in particular, not a house, not a landscape, not a person. Just paint on canvas, applied with palette knife and stiff brushes, with her fingers, with steel wool. As she worked, she thought it resembled a murder scene more than anything, and you know what? That was okay with her. She painted until six thirty, cleaned up and then headed for home.

The message had gone out, apparently. Her children’s various vehicles took up what room there was in the driveway. The lawn mower was still there, cutting off two spaces with its innards strewn about. It seemed symbolic that there wasn’t any room for her here. Then again, she was mighty touchy today.

“Hi, Mom!” came a chorus, and her hardened heart softened as her kids greeted her with hugs and smiles. Imogen, who looked so much like Addie and Lark, held up her arms, and Ellie obliged, scooping up the little girl for a nuzzle. “How’s my sweetie pie?” she asked.

“Gran, Gran, look at me! Do you like my dress?” Esme asked, twirling.

“I love it, honey. Such a pretty color. Did you know, purple’s my favorite?” She bent and kissed Esme’s head.

“Ah, the beautiful Elsbeth,” said Robert. “How are you, my dear?”

“Fine, Robert, just fine,” she lied.

“You’re taking good care of yourself, I hope?” Those faded blue eyes saw a lot.

She looked away. “I’m trying, Robert. How are you?”

She didn’t talk to Gerald until he served dinner. He’d gone all out—spaghetti with clams and garlic, fresh parsley, a green salad. There was even a cake sitting on the counter. Kissing up to the kids, she thought. Reminding them how great dear old Dad was.

“Hi, everyone, sorry I’m late,” Lark said, coming through the door. “Just in time, though, I see.” She dropped a kiss on Addie’s head, smooched each girl and sat down. “I’m starving, Dad. This smells like heaven.”

“How’s the fake boyfriend?” Robbie asked, and Ellie sat and listened as her children joked and talked, teasing each other, referencing things that went over her own head. Nicole buttered bread for the little girls, who were picky eaters, and Grandpop held forth, telling them about a walk he and Frances had taken, in which they’d come upon a lemonade stand. He’d given the two five-year-olds all the money in his wallet. “The best eighty-seven dollars I’ve ever spent!” he said. “I think it made a very good impression on Frances.”

“Or she thinks you’re senile, Grandpop,” Winnie said. “That’s a lot for lemonade.”

“She did offer to count the money out for me, now that you mention it,” Grandpop said. “But I wanted to help the little girls. They were very adorable. Not quite as adorable as you two, though!”

“I very adorable,” Imogen said.

“You gonna marry Frances, Grandpop?” Robbie asked.

“She says we have to date for two years first,” he answered. “By which time, I may well be dead and buried! I suppose we have to trust the universe. That’s what she says, anyway.”

“Okay,” Gerald said suddenly, his voice loud. Ellie knew his father’s dotty wisdom and rambling stories could irritate him. “So, kids, Dad…um, Ellie, did you want to say anything?”

“I’ll be living with Joy Deveaux for a while,” Ellie said, twirling some pasta. She kept her tone light.

“Oh, my God, that house,” Harlow said. “Can I come, too?”

“Why?” asked Winnie.

“I mean, I’d live there, too, if she let me,” Robbie said. “Nicest house in Wellfleet.”

“She’d probably say yes,” Lark said.

“I think ours is the nicest house in Wellfleet, Robbie,” Addison said sharply.

“Or Melissa Spencer’s,” Winnie said. “If you like modern, that is. But again, why, Mom?”

Ellie didn’t answer for a minute. Because your father has broken my heart, kids, and drastic measures are called for. Because I want to kill him and also sob for days. Because I can’t believe he’d do something like this, after all the time and love and effort we’ve put into the past four decades, and I’m in shock, and I’m scared and I’m lost.

“Are you getting divorce, Gran?” Imogen asked.

“Where did you hear that word?” Nicole asked, her eyes wide with horror.

“She’s six, Nic,” Robbie said. “She probably knows what ‘divorce’ means. And no, squirt, they’re not getting divorced.”

Gerald was looking at her. She could feel it.

She cleared her throat. “Grampy has some things to clean up around here, honey. I want to be away while he does it.” For the first time that night, she looked directly at her husband. “Since it’s not my mess to deal with.”