Chapter Nine
Lena
“You’re nice,” I tell Cade as we leave the Penny & Dime.
“Did you think otherwise?”
“There have been plenty of real estate developers to come through here and none of them would waste a dime on making kids happy.” A particularly strong gust of wind challenges my equilibrium and has my hip bumping into his. “Sorry.”
“I’m not. Hang on to me.” Cade takes my hand. “This wind can get aggressive, can’t it? Like life sometimes.”
“I agree.” I don’t slip my hand free.
Cade has a nice hand. Strong. Warm. It curls around mine and draws me closer, until our hips brush again.
“Why didn’t your marriages work out?” Cade’s question comes out of the blue.
A part of me wants to retreat. To close up the way a sea anemone does when touched.
But a gust of wind swirls around us, keeping us close. And a part of me… A part of me that feels lonely wants to reveal a bit of myself.
“Our core values weren’t the same,” I begin slowly. “My first husband was in finance. I was in accounting. I thought we looked at life the same way.”
Cade scoffs. “Accounting is checks and balances, while finance is about risk taking to increase reward.”
“Exactly so.” A lesson learned too little and too late to save my 401k.
“My second husband was a professional athlete. He swept me off my feet. And when I landed…I realized he wanted a housekeeper, a nanny, a mistress, a banker…” and so much more “…more than he wanted an equal partner in a relationship.” Financially, I’d come out ahead on that marriage.
But emotionally… He hadn’t needed my love.
“Ouch. Isn’t it funny how our hearts blind our heads to love deal breakers?”
I nod. “And your marriage…” I hate to ask but I can’t deny that I’m curious about the man holding my hand.
“I’m a widower.” His words aren’t swept away by the wind. They swirl around us.
Around me. And they linger with a kind of melancholy that makes it hard to smile.
He’s a widower, like Serena’s fisherman.
“You still mourn her.” That’s what it feels like to me. Cade’s clipped words. His carefully neutral expression.
We’ve reached our next destination on the tour—the Rusty Anchor, an antique and oddities shop.
We stop at the window display, as if by mutual consent. There’s an old, black, Singer sewing machine in the window next to a sterling silver tea set, a pair of old hiking boots, a cast iron frying pan, and an army knapsack. Hanging from the ceiling is a big wheel bicycle.
Such an unusual collection of things.
Perhaps not as odd as the conversation I’m having with a relative stranger. But I don’t move. I’m waiting for Cade to share the way I have.
“When Emilia was diagnosed with cancer, we were separated.” Cade runs his thumb over the back of my hand, a gentle, caring touch, a touch that tells me he did right by Emilia at the end of her life. “She left this earth five years ago.”
A seagull swoops past, screeching and careening on the wind before settling on the shoulder of the mermaid statue.
A widower fisherman and a mermaid.
A widower real estate developer and the owner of the Mermaid Café.
It feels as if our relationship is doomed to fail.
I silently chastise myself for such a romantic notion. Of course, any relationship between us is destined to fail. Our values are different. Our morals at odds. Cade wipes out history to start fresh while I defend it.
Suddenly, I can’t wait for the tour to end and for Cade to disappear.
I gently tug on my hand but Cade doesn’t let me go.
“There’s something here…between us,” he tells me. “Don’t shy away from it. Serena and your fisherman didn’t.”
“But in our case, being aware of something isn’t enough.” I tug once more. This time, Cade releases me. “You know it, too.”