Chapter 6
Bright sun. Cloudless blue sky. Rippling sapphire water. Emerald grass. Trees and foliage in all shades of green. It was the same nearly every day.
Mitchell Ripley was sick of it.
He set his cup of black coffee on the table next to his chair and scowled at the world beyond his back deck. The whole thing looked like a ridiculous postcard meant to lure tourists into visiting Florida.
Not that he cared about tourists. Hideaway Bay didn’t get any of those and the nightmare of Disney was hours away. Thankfully.
Despite the wretched view, he came out here every morning, same as clockwork, to begin his day. Sometimes, he got lucky and there was a gray sky or, better yet, a storm on the horizon. Even the threat of a hurricane brought him some satisfaction. Those were writing days.
This nonsense was…not.
He took in a breath of salt-laced air. Jeanie had loved this view. Until she’d no longer been able, she’d met every dawn out here with a smile on her face and the kind of happiness in her soul that he had only hoped to understand. She had been his happiness.
Now all that remained was this miserable view and a person-sized hole where his heart had once been.
He gulped his coffee. It had already started to cool. He glanced at the time on his watch.
Joyce would be here to make breakfast in an hour. Two eggs, two slices of thick-cut bacon, two pieces of toast with blackberry preserves. Same thing he had every morning.
She’d stopped trying to get him to eat something else years ago.
He knew she’d gone next door last night to apologize to the new neighbor for his behavior. She could apologize on his behalf all she wanted.
Didn’t mean he was sorry. He cared very little what other people thought of him. The new neighbor included.
He heaved out a sigh as a pair of dolphins surfaced in the channel between Hideaway Bay and the wildlife preserve. He’d hoped the house next door would stay in the Marsh family but, obviously, it had not.
Had they sold it? If so, why hadn’t they mentioned to him it was going up for sale? He would have bought it, just to maintain his privacy and solitude. Joyce could have moved out of his guest house and lived there if she’d wanted to.
Jeanie would think he was ridiculous. He knew that. He couldn’t help himself, though. This was who he was now. Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if she was still here.
Of course, then everything would have been different.
He drained the last of his coffee and went inside. He set his cup in the sink before returning to the bedroom. He put his running shoes and sunglasses on, his earbuds in, and went downstairs. He’d run the loop to the gate and back twice. That would be two point zero five miles. He ran it every day except for Sunday. At least he tried to.
While he ran, he listened to a podcast about infamous crimes through the ages. It was interesting, but also research in that it gave him ideas. When the run was over, he’d shower, eat breakfast, then retreat to his office for the remainder of the day and pray the words would finally return.
He shut the front door behind him and briskly walked to the end of the drive. When he reached the main road, he started to run.
It had always been a good way to work out the day’s writing. To brainstorm, deal with plot issues, come up with interesting new twists. Decide any matters that might be before him.
Netflix wanted him to sign a new contract that would allow them to produce two more seasons of the show.
Even though he disliked what they’d done with some of the story elements, he would sign it. Soon. But he enjoyed taking his time and making them think he might not. Lucinda, his agent, didn’t enjoy it nearly as much, but she’d made enough money off him in the last decade or so that she knew not to say anything.
As much as he hated what the company had done to his storylines, the money was exceptional, and he had Kyle to think of. No matter what his son thought of him, Mitch planned to leave him a good inheritance. Maybe that would make things right between them again. Or at least right enough that Kyle would remember his father fondly.
It was worth a shot. Even if it felt a little like trying to buy his son’s affection.
Someday, he and Kyle would be on speaking terms again. He hoped. In the years since Jeanie’s passing, he’d tried calling. He still did on Kyle’s birthday, but his son hadn’t answered the phone once.
He also sent Kyle a letter and a signed copy of every new book Mitch had out. They never came back as undelivered, but that didn’t mean Kyle was reading the letters. For all Mitch knew, he tossed them in the trash and sold the signed books on eBay.
Arlington had always told him he should go see Kyle in person. Make it impossible for the boy not to at least acknowledge his presence, but Mitch had tried that once. Six months after the funeral, he’d gone to Kyle’s college and waited outside the dorm.
Kyle had definitely seen him. Then he’d turned around and walked the other way.
Mitch had gone to Kyle’s graduation, too, but they’d never crossed paths.
Except for the birthday phone call and the signed book, Mitch had stopped trying. He knew enough to know when he wasn’t wanted.
Kyle had reason to be upset with him. Mitch had thrown himself into his work in the last year of Jeanie’s illness. He hadn’t known how to cope with the love of his life dying. And part of him had held out hope that if he continued on as if everything were all right, Jeanie would somehow be okay, too.
It was only in the last couple of months that he’d pushed everything aside to be with her day and night.
It had broken him to see her waste away. To see the cancer ravage his beautiful bride. He would have given anything in the world to take her place. He’d wept more in those days than he had his entire life. So much so that after her passing, he had nothing left.
A part of him had definitely gone with her. Kyle’s estrangement only deepened the wound. He hadn’t been the best husband to Jeanie when he’d been focused on his work instead of her. And he certainly hadn’t been a great father.
Now he was sleeping in the bed he’d made and there was no way out of it. The podcast droned on in his ears, but it was a repeat episode. Not worth his attention.
Mrs. Chatterjee was in the driveway kissing her husband goodbye as he went off to the hospital. Dr. Chatterjee had been a great help, recommending Jeanie’s doctor to them, a renowned oncologist, but even the most cutting-edge treatments had done nothing.
Mrs. Chatterjee waved to Mitch. He kept his eyes on the road and pretended he hadn’t seen her. He was in no mood to chat. He was never in a mood to chat. If his neighbors hadn’t figured that out by now, there was no helping them.
Sweat trickled down his back. His muscles were warm and loose. He picked up his pace a bit.
He really ought to move.
But leaving Hideaway Bay meant leaving his last connection to Jeanie, so as much as he despised this place and the mostly fake people who lived here, he would take his final breaths in that house.
And as far as he was concerned, that day couldn’t come soon enough.