Independence Day (6 page)

“Your wife is on line one,” Hattie said over the intercom.

Nick pressed the button for line one and picked up the receiver. “Chess?”

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“I’ve had better days.”

“That’s why I thought—since it’s your night to cook—we could just have pizza.”

His night to cook? Was she still serious about that rotation? “Okay,” he said, irritated but not willing to begin another battle. “I’ll order it before I leave, so it arrives just as I’m getting home.”

Home. Before, always a safe haven. Now, somehow a minefield.

A
S
C
HESSIE WASHED
the clay off her hands at the sink in the corner of her studio, she read the computer printout tacked to the wall. It was the roster for the pottery class she’d begin teaching next Monday, and it was a sizable enrollment, the best ever. If things kept up, she’d be able to divert a little of her earnings from the girls’ college fund to getting the barn’s first floor ready to open as a gallery. She wiped her hands on the back of her jeans and headed downstairs.

She didn’t want to alter the space too drastically. It shouldn’t be cluttered. The simple, rustic interior would show off her handcrafted crockery and her free-form sculpture to advantage. She really only needed some lumber for shelving. Penn and Jonas had volunteered their carpentry skills. She and her sister-in-law Emily had picked up several antique tables at the flea market. And Emily’s husband, Brad, said he’d gladly wire some track lighting. It was amazing how the various members of the McCabe family had supported her dream while her husband had just now realized she had one—

Chessie caught herself. He couldn’t know what her dreams were if she didn’t share them. It was hard to believe she’d told his family so much more than she’d told him. But somehow she always seemed to get pushed aside as they talked about Nick’s job and the girls’ lives. The new assertive Chessie needed to communicate to her husband.

Hugging herself at the thought of the expansion of her pottery enterprise, she twirled around to find Nick standing in the doorway.

“You were on my mind,” she said, moving across the floor to wind her arms around his neck. “Kiss me.”

He bent to administer a dutiful peck on the tip of her nose.

“A real kiss.”

“Chessie, I’m tired.”

Oh, no. He wasn’t going to get off the hook that easily.

She pulled him to her and sought his mouth. Feeling slightly wanton for a wife of eighteen years and a mom of teenagers, she ran her tongue over his lips. Trailed her fingers down his neck to his tie. Loosened the knot. Pulled him even closer and deepened the kiss to where she felt warm and a little dizzy and not at all motherly. Nick was—when he let himself go—a great kisser. And surprisingly, he let himself go now. Held her tight. Prolonged the kiss.

When they came up for air, his eyes were glassy. “Now that’s a welcome home.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Her arms around his waist, she laid her head on his shoulder. “You’re home early.”

“The day just kind of wore itself out. Richard Filmore stopping by put the cap on it.”

“What did he want?” She felt him tense immediately.

“He wanted to know if he’d see us at the band camp’s pops concert Saturday night.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know.” Nick stepped back. “Would you go with me? I’m not quite sure what the parameters of this strike are.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

For a minute it appeared he might pull away altogether. But the lines at the corners of his eyes eased. “Would you like that?”

“Hmm. I hear the theme is big band music, dancing under the stars. I do love dancing.”

“My dancing’s definitely rusty.”

“Oh, did you ever dance?”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “In another life.”

“Let’s see if we can resurrect you.” She tugged on his tie so that he had to bend. So that she could sample another hot kiss. Just as he seemed to warm to this departure from the routine, she stepped away with a flirtatious grin. “Pizza’s here.”

Walking out of the barn to the delivery car, she hoped her husband was watching. The little extra sway in her backside was for him.

A
FTER SUPPER
Nick submerged himself in paperwork. After that kiss in the barn earlier, Chessie was disappointed he didn’t want to spend a little time with her, especially since the project he was working on was her particular nemesis. The staff field day.

Every year, in every school where Nick had held an administrative position, he’d hosted a staff field day mid-summer. His idea. For teachers, administrators, para-professionals, custodians and lunchroom staff, the day was a series of physical and mental challenges designed to build team effort, mutual respect and trust in a fun environment. Nick went to a great deal of trouble to schedule a day when just about everyone could come, since it was voluntary. He promised his staff that anyone who gave up one vacation day for this event would reap the benefits of better team spirit throughout the school year. And they always did. That’s why his people made an effort to show up.

Except Chessie. Every year he’d asked her to come with him. But because none of the other families attended and because she was an absolute klutz when it came to organized physical activities, she always declined. She knew he was disappointed, but she wouldn’t humiliate herself. Or him. Or take the focus off the staff.

But the amount of time and research and scheduling and effort this monster of a project—wholly outside of his contract—took made Chessie view it as Nick’s mistress.

She needed to step away from the competition.

Gabriella had gone to spend the night with Keri. Isabel was in her room, filling out applications to college. So Chessie decided to take a walk and visit Kit. If anyone could think outside the box and offer a fresh perspective on the situation Chessie had dug herself into, it would be this particular sister-in-law.

The evening air was softly redolent of marsh roses, and the walk down the Pier Road refreshed her with every step. At the head of the harbor, she stopped to watch the boats riding gently at their moorings. Yachts seemed to outnumber lobster boats three to one, making her think of a conversation she’d overheard in Branson’s grocery about lobster fishing becoming increasingly squeezed with regulations, of lobstermen becoming a dying breed. She thought of her brother-in-law Sean and wondered how he was doing. While Nick had chased his living around the country, Sean had remained in their hometown, unfazed by climbing a career ladder. On more than one occasion, Chessie had envied his decision.

“Chessie!” The call echoed from across the narrow head of the harbor.

Squinting into the setting sun, she could make out Kit on the wharf behind the McCabe lobster pound, surrounded by a colorful flotilla of kayaks, part of her summer coastal exploration business. She returned the greeting, then trotted around the bend.

“Hey, there!” Kit called as Chessie skirted the family pound to the wharf behind. “I can use some help.”

“What are you doing?”

“Midseason maintenance.”

Chessie grabbed a sponge out of a soapy bucket of water. “You look as if you’re rescuing beached whales.” She looked at the kayaks’ bright colors. “Psychedelic whales. Beached during an acid flashback.”

“Your imagination’s more vivid than Alex’s.”

“Where is she? And Sean?”

“Playing poker with Adele Jenkins and Penn.”

“For money?”

“For matchsticks.”

“I was going to say, you and Sean could retire early.” Alex’s gaming skills were prodigious.

Kit chuckled. “What are you doing out and about without your brood?”

“I needed to talk to a person who might not think I’m nuts.”

“So, the strike’s still on?”

“Sort of.” Chessie scrubbed hard at a dried patch of algae on the bottom of a yellow kayak. “Let’s just say my revolution has developed a mind of its own.”

“Ah.”

“You sound as if you expected as much.”

“I certainly know the danger of best-laid plans.” Kit stopped working. “Last year I came back to Pritchard’s Neck to settle my mother’s affairs. Period. Today I stand before you a married woman with a nine-year-old daughter.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Absolutely not. All I’m saying is sometimes you have to hold on and enjoy the ride.”

“I think I could handle that, but Nick…”

“Needs to have a plan. Sean, too. When we first got together, he didn’t like the feeling of losing control. Of his emotions, really.”

“Is he any better at it? You sure have brought some changes to his life.”

“Sure, he’s adapted. But we’re still honeymooning. He’d do anything for me. Ask again in twenty-five years.”

Chessie sighed. “It’s eighteen years for us, and I don’t think Nick has ever really let go. It doesn’t help that he’s always had such a buttoned-down job.”

“Is he getting grief for your performance?”

“That’s the thing. I’m sure he is, but he isn’t telling me. With me he’s just prickly and distant. And getting worse.”

“Maybe you intimidate him.”

“Me?”

“Intimidate might not be the word. Threaten? Confuse?” Kit furrowed her brow in thought. “Are you angry with Nick?”

“No. I’m just trying to start a dialogue.”

“Well, I bet he’s translating your actions as anger. Men seem to think in terms of unequivocal emotion. It’d be a normal male response to erect a protective wall if he felt confused or threatened.”

“But I’ve told him I’m not angry.”

“Maybe you have to show him.”

“I’m not following you.”

“You know the old saying about catching more flies with honey.” As she crouched by a kayak, soapy water dripping from the sponge in her hand, Kit shook her head. “I’m no expert in the art of sweetness, but you might be able to pull it off.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m guessing you’re waiting for Nick to make some moves. To fulfill some of those needs you mentioned on your picket sign.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I hope you’re willing to wait till you-know-what freezes over.”

Chessie frowned. “You think?”

“It’s not that Nick doesn’t want to please you. He needs a demonstration.”

“We’re going to the outdoor pops concert Saturday night. I think that has romantic potential.”

“Then seduce him.”

“Seduction.” Chessie breathed the word and thought of the possibilities. “Perhaps a dab of makeup and perfume. A new hairdo. A slinky dress. That’s so unlike me.”

“You’ve got it. Seduction isn’t about the same old same old.” Kit moved on to scrub the bottom of the next kayak in the row. “A trip to the mall should set you up.”

“Martha will want to be in on this, for sure. Will you come, too?”

“Right. You’re asking a woman who knows zip
about fashion. When Sean and I go out, I raid Frederica’s attic for vintage clothes.” Frederica was Kit’s eighty-something friend.

Chessie gazed with affection at her outdoorsy sister-in-law who’d softened only slightly since she’d breezed into town a year ago and set the gossips buzzing with her motorcycle, her pierced eyebrow, tattoos and purple spiked hair. “Just come with me so I don’t end up looking like June Cleaver.”

“I can definitely make sure you don’t take that route.”

“Do you have a couple hours Saturday afternoon?”

“For you, I’ll make time.” Kit pointed at the row of kayaks. “Payment in advance.”

As the two women set to the task in companionable silence, Chessie thought of Nick’s kiss earlier in the barn. She’d taken the initiative, and he’d responded. That course of action hadn’t been in her original plan, but it had definitely been a romantic moment and had seemed to inch them closer to her goal. So, how did she justify a plan of seduction with her no-sex rule? How did she demonstrate the spark she craved without appearing the tease? And, biggest question of all, if she felt sexy, would she want to refrain from sex with Nick?

She liked sex. She was married to a sexy man. And now she was finding that her no-sex ultimatum was a lot like going on a diet. She had good intentions, but when you put the cookies in front of her, would she crumble?

T
HIS MOVE TO
Pritchard’s Neck wasn’t at all what Isabel had expected.

Surrounded by applications to colleges, she couldn’t concentrate on her future. The present took up too much of her energy.

She’d thought because Dad’s big family was here things would feel more familiar, more comfortable. Instead, she had never felt so confused and unsettled. Dad had always thrown himself into his job. Isabel guessed he was trying to prove himself so he could get an even better job down the road. That was the way it had worked all her life, but this past year it had seemed worse. She’d seen him more at school than she had at home.

Then… Gabriella was headed for trouble. Keri was an okay friend, but the crowd those two were trying to hang with was fast and shallow. In no way real friends. There wasn’t anything Isabel could do about it, though. Her sister wouldn’t listen to her. She’d have to find her own way.

And Mom? Mom had been a different person this past year. She seemed more interested in her own stuff—her pottery, her classes—than in what Isabel and Gabriella were doing. Did she think they didn’t need her anymore? Last year when they’d started visiting colleges, Isabel had felt like an adult. Now, a year older and filling out applications for out-of-state schools, she wasn’t so sure. How was an adult supposed to feel and act?

Mom wasn’t helping. Her mother’s freaky behav
ior lately was selfish. She didn’t see or chose not to see how she affected the rest of the family. Like dominoes lined up. Dad was even more tense than usual. Gabriella was more set on separating herself from the family. And Isabel wondered how she could leave for college when she seemed to be the only one who saw things clearly.

She knew what she had to do, but she didn’t like it.

With a heavy heart, she collected the applications spread across her bed. After long hours of deliberation, she’d made her short list. Boston University, the University of Miami, Duke, Oberlin College, Furman University. She’d spent so much time poring over their features, they were like old friends to her. Now, as if saying goodbye, she looked at each application in turn. Then she shredded them into scraps so tiny she’d be unable to change her mind.