Chapter 9 #2
Ethan left through the side door. Tom caught Carrie's eye and tilted his head toward the deck. "I'll give you some space," he said, and stepped outside.
A moment later, Lori followed Carrie into the kitchen, moving on autopilot, her body going through motions while her mind caught up.
Carrie started putting groceries away.
At the counter, Lori leaned back and covered her face.
"I wasn't here," she said, muffled through her fingers. "I should have been here, and I wasn't."
"You couldn't have known." Carrie didn't stop moving, hands finding the right cabinets.
"I should have known. Kevin always does this. Shows up when he's not expected, makes himself the victim, walks away acting like everyone wronged him." She dropped her hands. She wasn't crying, but she was close. "I knew he'd pull something like this."
"He handled it," Carrie said.
"He shouldn't have to handle it. He's seventeen. This isn't his job."
Carrie didn't have a response for that, because Lori was right.
Carrie finished with the groceries and turned to face her friend. "He said it. The thing you've been holding back—about Kevin moving on while Ethan's still trying to figure out how to live with what happened." She leaned against the opposite counter. "You couldn't say it. He could."
Lori inhaled sharply. "Part of me is glad," she admitted, her voice small.
"That's not nothing."
"No. It's not."
They stood in silence. Carrie thought about her own morning, the text from Gayle, the validation she'd needed for longer than she wanted to admit.
"For what it's worth," Carrie said, "Tom was good with Kevin. Didn't escalate, didn't take sides. Just held the line."
"I noticed." Lori almost smiled. "Meredith picked a good one."
The deck door opened, and Meredith appeared. She'd missed the confrontation, but she'd heard enough.
"You okay?" Meredith asked.
Lori managed a small nod. "Getting there."
"The girls are coming back from the beach in about an hour. Do you want me to handle dinner?"
Lori shook her head. "You don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to. Do you want me to?"
Lori nodded, some of the tension going out of her.
Meredith headed upstairs, already pulling out her phone—ordering pizza, most likely.
Tom was on the deck when Lori finally went outside. The afternoon was fading, the light turning gold. He went back into the house, leaving her alone.
She'd checked the pool before coming out. Ethan was in the water with Max, not talking, just floating. She caught his eye; he looked away. Close enough.
She stayed there, looking out at the beach. The day crowd had thinned, replaced by the evening walkers and the die-hard sunbathers trying to squeeze the last light from the sky. A few surfers were out, catching small waves near the jetty. Down the beach, someone was flying a kite.
Meredith stepped out onto the deck and joined her at the railing without saying anything.
"You don't have to say anything," Lori said.
"I wasn't planning to."
They watched the water.
"When does it stop?" Lori asked. "The divorce was three years ago. And it's still not over. There's always something else."
"It ends when you stop giving Kevin so much power over you."
"One more year," Lori said. "Then Ethan's eighteen and Kevin can't use him as a pawn anymore."
"That's worth holding onto."
"It's everything."
They stayed there until the sun touched the horizon, until the sky started its slow fade from gold to rose to purple.
Ethan appeared at the deck stairs, towel over his shoulder. He didn't say anything at first, just walked over and stood next to his mother.
Lori reached out and touched his arm. He let her.
The three of them watched the last light leave the sky. Ethan didn't apologize for the blowup. Lori didn't push him to talk.
After a while, Meredith went back inside, leaving them alone.
"I meant it," Ethan said quietly. "What I said to him."
"I know."
"He's not going to hear it."
"Maybe not." She looked at him. "But you said it anyway, and you meant it. That counts for something."
He nodded.
"I don't know if I can do the wedding," he said. "Stand up there and smile while he marries her."
"You don't have to decide yet." Lori kept her voice steady.
"He wants an answer."
"He can wait."
Ethan's shoulders loosened.
"Thanks for not being there," he said.
"What?"
"When he showed up. I'm glad you weren't there at first. I needed to say it without worrying about—" He stopped. "I don't know. You." He paused. "Tom helped. He didn't take over, but he was just... there. Like Kevin couldn't get past him."
Lori swallowed. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."
"Don't be. It worked out better this way."
She wanted to argue, but she stopped herself. He was telling her something important: he could handle more than she thought. He needed space to fight his own battles.
He might actually be okay.
Sophie didn't know anything was wrong until she got home.
At The Crabby Catch, it had been a normal shift.
Busy enough to keep her moving, slow enough to catch her breath between rushes.
Jake was working the patio again, and they'd started reading each other over the past week.
He'd catch her eye when a difficult table finally left.
She'd mouth good luck when a party of eight walked in without a reservation.
Small things. Nothing that meant anything.
Except they did. She was starting to notice.
The trouble started at seven-thirty.
"We can't sit here." The woman gestured at the table Sophie had led them to. "It's right under the vent. I'll freeze."
Sophie smiled, apologized, found them another table.
"This one's too cramped. We'll be bumping elbows with the people next to us."
Another table. Another apology.
"This chair wobbles."
Sophie checked the floor. "I'm sorry, we're full right now, but I can grab a—"
"Forget it." The woman sat down hard. "Just get us some bread. We've been waiting."
They'd been seated for two minutes.
Sophie escaped back to the host stand, but she could feel the woman watching her.
When the entrées arrived and her salmon was "overcooked," the woman spotted Sophie across the restaurant.
"You." She pointed, voice rising. Now other customers turned to look. “You're the one who sat us at three different tables. Get me a manager." She was nearly shouting.
Jake got there first.
"I'm so sorry about your evening," he said, already picking up the plate. "Let me have the kitchen redo that salmon for you, on us. And I'll bring a round of drinks for the table while you wait."
The woman's husband finally looked up from his phone. "That works. Thank you."
Jake headed for the kitchen. Diane caught Sophie's eye and nodded toward the back. "Take five," Diane said. "Go get some air."
She went out the back door and stood in the alley, breathing in the smell of dumpsters and brine. Her hands were shaking.
It opened. Jake.
"You okay?"
"I don't know why I'm so shaken up."
"She was looking for a fight before she sat down. Nothing you could do was going to fix that." He leaned against the wall beside her. "Diane says you can head out early if you want."
"Yeah," Sophie said. "I should probably go."
They walked back inside together. Sophie grabbed her bag and said goodbye to Diane.
Jake was waiting by the back door. "I'm heading out too. I'll walk you."
They cut through the alley to the street. The evening had cooled, the promenade crowds thinning to couples and dog walkers.
"Thank you," she said. "For earlier. With Salmon Lady."
"Salmon Lady." He laughed. "That's what we're calling her?"
"In my head, forever."
He stopped beside a bike chained outside the surf shop. Old, a little rusty. "You want a ride? Handlebars. It's faster than walking."
She had a boyfriend. She should have said no.
Instead she said, "If I fall off, I'm blaming you."
She climbed on, gripping the metal bar on either side. Jake pushed off, wobbly at first, then steadier. The wind hit her face. She could feel him behind her, his arms on either side as he steered. It was ridiculous and probably unsafe, and she started laughing.
"Right here," she said.
"I know where you're staying."
Sophie raised an eyebrow. "That's creepy."
"You told me. First week."
They turned onto her street. She could see the house ahead.
"This is good," she said.
Jake slowed to a stop. She slid off the handlebars, landing harder than she meant to, catching herself on his arm.
"Graceful," he said.
"Always."
Her phone buzzed. Lily: omg you missed EVERYTHING. Ethan's dad showed up. huge fight. everyone's still weird.
Sophie stared at the screen. Another text: where are you??
"Everything okay?" Jake was watching her.
"Drama at the house." She looked toward the front door. "I'm not ready to go in yet."
Jake glanced at the house then back at her. "Beach?"
They left the bike in the driveway and headed down to the beach. It was empty this late, just the black shape of the water and the stars coming out overhead. They found a spot past the high-tide line and sat.
"So what happened?" he asked.
"I don't know yet. Something with Ethan's dad. His parents are divorced." She pulled her knees up. "Half the people in that house are divorced or getting divorced. It's like a support group that accidentally rented a beach house."
Jake grinned. "That bad?"
"No. I mean, they're good. They're my mom's best friends. I've known all of them my whole life." She dug her fingers into the cool sand. "It's just a lot sometimes. Everyone dealing with their stuff, and I'm supposed to be the easy one. The one who doesn't need anything."
"Are you fine?"
She didn't answer right away. The waves kept coming in.
"You know I have a boyfriend," she said. "Trevor."
"You mentioned."
"He's great. He's—" She stopped. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."
"Because I'm here and you wanted to." Jake leaned back on his hands. "Also, I'm very easy to talk to. It's a gift."
She laughed. "Trevor's great, but I'm leaving for college in the fall. And he's got another year of high school. And I keep thinking—" She shook her head. "Never mind."
"You keep thinking it's already over, you just haven't said it yet."
Sophie looked at him. He was watching the water, not her.
"My parents were like that," he said. "Knew it was done for years before they actually said it. They stayed together until my sister graduated, then sat us down like it was some big announcement. But we already knew." He shrugged. "I was relieved, honestly. But it also sucked. Both things at once."
"Both things at once," Sophie repeated.
"Yeah."
Neither of them spoke for a while. Down the beach, someone was walking a dog, a flashlight beam bouncing along the waterline.
"I don't know what I feel," Sophie said finally. "About Trevor. About any of it. Everyone else seems to know when something's over. And I'm just... here. Waiting to figure it out."
"Maybe that's okay," Jake said. "Maybe you don't have to know yet."
"Maybe."
He stood and brushed the sand off his shorts, then held out a hand. She took it, let him pull her up.
"You seem like you're handling things," he said. "Even if you don't feel like it."
"Thanks."
They walked back toward the street, the house bright against the dark. At the bike, Jake stopped.
His hand brushed her arm as he reached for the handlebars. Maybe an accident. Maybe not.
He pushed off, pedaling back the way they'd come, and Sophie stood on the sidewalk until he disappeared around the corner.
Then she went inside to find out what Lily meant by huge fight.
Later, after dinner had been cleaned up and the house had dispersed into its separate corners, Meredith found Tom on the rooftop.
He was sitting in one of the teak lounge chairs, beer in hand, looking out at the dark ocean. She sat down beside him with her own glass of wine.
"What a day," she said.
"It was."
They sat in silence for a moment. Then Meredith said, "I've been thinking. About the retirement plan."
Tom took a sip of his beer but didn't respond. Waiting.
"I can't walk away from the practice. Not yet." She looked at her wine rather than at him. "I know you've been running numbers, and I know the math works. But I've spent fifteen years building something, and I'm not done."
"I never said you had to sell."
"You said 'we.' You said if we sold, we'd never have to work again."
Tom set down his beer. "That was a possibility. Not a plan."
"It sounded like a plan."
Tom turned to look at her. "Meredith. I've known you for twenty-four years. Do you really think I expected you to agree without discussing it? I was starting a conversation. That's all."
She didn't answer. The wine was cool in her hand, the glass sweating slightly in the evening air.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I'm still working through it."
"Then take your time. I can wait."
"What if I figure out something you don't like?" She finally looked at him.
"Then we talk about it. That's what we do."
She set her glass on the deck and got up from her chair, crossed to his, and settled onto his lap. His arms came around her automatically. She draped hers around his neck.
"We're okay?" she asked.
"We're always okay."
She kissed him.
After the day they'd had, after everything—she could still do this. They could still do this.