Chapter Twenty-Four
The drive up to Lake Arrowhead took over three hours.
In those hours, James told Mari how he handled the twins when they’d walked in the door with their proverbial tail between their legs.
The overactive imagination of the girls provoked them to spy on James. From looking for pictures on his computer to clicking into his text messages.
Then following him to the studio and witnessing the two of them kissing.
“I made them hand over their cell phones and unlock them. Then scrolled through their messages between their friends while they watched in absolute horror,” he told Mari.
“Did you learn anything?”
“Madison gossips more than I thought she did, and she’s insanely jealous of her sister’s prom date. And Ellie thinks Trevor might be ‘the one.’”
“The one what? She’s too young to be considering marriage.” When James didn’t elaborate, Mari caught on. “Oh, you think she and Trevor are going to sleep together.”
James winced. “I spoke to Cindy this morning. She’s surprised that they haven’t. Trevor turned eighteen in December. The girls’ birthday is in two weeks. Before prom.”
“She’s waiting until her birthday.”
He nodded. “My brilliant plan of making the girls feel the pain of me invading their privacy, and all it did was backfire. I don’t want to know what I now know.”
Mari laughed. “Before Giovanni married and moved out, he used to ‘entertain’ women in the small apartment above Luca’s. I pretended not to notice. The only thing you can do for your daughters is to make sure they’re safe.”
“I know that. But it sucks.”
The cabin James had rented looked out over the lake.
It was everything a mountain cabin should be. Open log-beam ceilings, cozy furniture with fluffy blankets. A fireplace with plenty of wood to ward off the chill in the air.
“This is nice,” Mari said as she crossed to the window overlooking the lake.
“I used to take the girls up here at least once a year. Eventually, playing cards and collecting pine cones on the trails couldn’t compete with their friends.”
Mari looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. “A strange thing happens when your children turn twenty-three or twenty-four . . . you become smarter and much more interesting to hang out with, and they come back.”
James moved to her side and draped an arm over her shoulders.
“Something tells me your children never doubted your IQ.”
She laughed. “They did. I simply didn’t give them an audience to voice it.”
“How did you manage that?”
“Intimidation and guilt.”
James fist-bumped the air. “Parenting for the win.”
Mari turned to lean against the window and smiled up at him. “What is on our agenda?”
James wrapped his arms around her waist and stared her in the eyes. “There is a decent barbeque place in town that has a live band and dancing. And since we’re practically professional dancers, I thought it might be a good idea to show everyone how it’s done.”
There was comfort in James holding her, feeling his arms and having the freedom to lean against him. “Two lessons make us experts?”
“I bet it’s two more than most of the people in this town are used to.”
Mari watched her hands that sat on his chest. “Do I need to change?”
He shook his head. “Grab a coat. As soon as that sun is down, it’s going to get cold.”
It had been a long time since Mari had been in a restaurant that had sawdust on the floor and more beer on tap than wine in bottles.
A potbelly stove sat in the corner of the establishment, emanating enough heat to keep the space warm and cozy. Individual tables and chairs peppered the dining room, and a band had set up residence on a small stage.
They were seated a couple of tables back from the dance floor. James ordered a beer, and Mari settled for a hard cider.
The energy in the place was already palpable. A few families sat on the perimeter, children ran around, much like Franny had most of her life. Several people roamed from table to table, talking to each other.
“This must be where the locals hang out,” Mari leaned over and said to James.
James had pulled his chair close to her, making conversation a little easier over the volume of the music piped in through the speakers.
“It hasn’t changed in years.”
She ran her foot along the floor. “I hope this has changed.” How this passed the health department, she never understood. But a lot of backroad country places used sawdust as part of the charm.
A bowl of shelled peanuts sat on the table, and the menus looked like sections of a newspaper, complete with headlines of some of the locals and what they were up to. A marriage, a new store that had opened up or closed down. It was charming.
Their drinks came, and they held off on ordering, opting instead to take their time.
The band had set up but hadn’t started to play.
A combination of country music and pop that swayed to the country side of the fence played through the speakers.
“When the girls were kids, I’d bring them here to run off any energy they had left over from our day.
There used to be a row of video games in the corner.
” He pointed to a wall that was now filled with merchandise.
Sweatshirts, ball caps . . . mugs with the name of the place.
“When the music started, they’d dance with each other until they were exhausted. ”
“How often did you come here?”
James sat back, tipped his beer to his lips. “At least once when it snowed. Sometimes again in the summer.”
Mari rested her chin on her folded hands. “I bet they’ll come here with their own families at some point.”
“What about you? Where did you take your kids when they were growing up?”
“Nothing like this. We took them to Italy twice. There was one road trip to the sequoias.”
James laughed. “That sounds like a lot more than a weekend in the mountains.”
She shrugged. “Bigger trees.”
James leaned forward, took her hands in his. “As much as I miss those days, I like where I am now.”
Mari didn’t have a moment to respond before the waiter returned and took their order.
When the band started to play, James pulled her onto the dance floor.
Thoughts of Luca, Gio, and Chloe were completely pushed aside. For a few hours, the restaurant disappeared. Life’s responsibilities faded . . . it was almost as if nothing but that moment mattered.
They ate dinner between songs they liked. And laughed when they stepped on the other’s toes.
A couple of hours in, the bar filled up with the younger crowd, and Mari and James called it a night.
The brisk wind outside snapped Mari’s spine straight up.
They jumped into his car, shivering despite the heat they’d built up on the dance floor.
“I don’t mind the cold, but I’d rather have it with snow,” James said as he started the car and turned up the heat.
“The forecast suggested rain, not snow.”
“It’s not cold enough.”
“I haven’t seen snow in years,” Mari confessed.
“Do you ski?”
She laughed. “Not even the bunny slope.”
“I’ll teach you,” he said as he pulled the car out of the parking lot surrounded by pine trees.
Mari found herself staring at his profile as they drove to the cabin. Would he teach her? Was this . . . what they were, something that could last long enough for another season? Ski lessons and holidays?
That all felt so far away.
The restaurant was less than a mile from their rental, and walkable if not for the dark road they would have had to use to make their way back.
The car was still chilled when they pulled into the driveway.
The owner of the Airbnb had strung up white lights between the trees, creating a fairylike whimsy trail to the front door.
As James fiddled with the key to let them in, rain started to fall.
Mari shifted from one foot to the other as if that would keep her warm.
Finally, the door opened, and they both hurried in.
“It’s freezing in here.”
James tossed the keys on the kitchen counter. “I’ll start a fire.”
“I’ll find a thermostat.”
The light switches at the front door managed to turn on everything but the lights in the living room.
James switched on a single lamp and headed to the fireplace.
Mari followed his lead and went to the individual lamps to turn them on.
“I think I saw a thermostat in the hall,” James told her.
There were only two bedrooms and a short hallway that housed the cabin’s only bathroom.
Mari found the heating control, saw the temperature, and cringed. “It’s fifty-eight in here.”
“I should have turned it on before we left.”
“It didn’t feel that cold earlier.”
She played with the dial until she heard the central heater turn on.
With that out of the way, she stepped into the restroom and closed the door behind her.
She turned on the hot water and waited for it to warm up. In the mirror, her reflection stared back. Hair damp from dancing and the rain. Her cheeks flush from the cold. And a strange sense of calm sat behind her eyes.
She was alone, with James. They didn’t have a deadline on when to leave, at least for the night. And no family that could walk by and question what was happening.
And for the first time that night, Mari thought of what came next.
What she wanted to come next.
Yet those jitters and maybe fear hovered just beneath the surface.
It had been so long since she’d been in this very position. Paulo had been her only lover. Someone who had seen her grow ripe with their children and slowly age.
The sink started to steam.
Mari ran her hands under the warm water, heating them up.
This was no time to second-guess what she knew she wanted. James had seen her in a swimming suit, she’d seen him in only swim shorts. Neither one of them was in their twenties, and there was no room or need to be shy.
After taking a few minutes to use the restroom and refresh herself, Mari emerged from the bathroom and returned to the living room. She tossed her coat onto the back of a chair and walked to where James stood.
The fire was slowly catching along the bottom log, the crackle and pop was the only sound in the room.
“That’s nice,” she told him.