The Beach House (38 page)

Nan turns her head to look at her. “Isn’t it odd, that we are always sorry when someone dies, but with Everett I don’t know how to feel. I don’t feel sorry. I feel that I got all my sorries out all those years ago when I thought he was dead. I feel . . . I don’t know. Empty perhaps. Relieved. Oh dear, I don’t suppose I’m meant to say that, and poor Bee, she must be in so much pain to have lost her father. I feel as if there has been this huge upset in my life, and I was steeling myself for more, for more pain, yet another tumultuous event, but now, finally, I feel a sort of calm.”

“I can understand that.” Daff sits down gently on the seat next to Nan.

“I loved him so much,” Nan muses. “For so long. As the years went by I built him up into a superman, a demi-god, pouring all my love into his house, into the memories that Windermere held, turning our marriage into something so perfect that of course I would never marry again, never do anything to defile what I convinced myself was the greatest love of all time.” She pauses, looking out of the window again before turning back to Daff.

“To discover the lie, the betrayal, to see Everett again as an old man . . . to see him weak and ill, and, more, to know that he didn’t have the courage to face up to his defects, that he chose running away from us rather than finding a way for us all to work through it together . . .” Nan shakes her head and sighs. “I don’t feel sad that he is dead. I feel grateful.”

“Grateful?” Daff furrows her brow. “I don’t understand.”

“I am grateful that I got to see him again. Grateful that I saw him as human, and flawed, and weak. Grateful that I no longer have to live my life missing a perfect man, a perfect marriage, staying in this house because of all the perfect memories it holds.”

Daff frowns. “But, Nan, you love this house.”

“I do. I have always loved this house. The difference is I don’t
need
to stay here anymore. By holding on to Windermere, I was holding on to a memory of a marriage, a memory of a man who only really existed in my imagination. Seeing Everett again means I can let it go.”

“You
want
to move?”

Nan shrugs. “The house is too old and too big for me. Even if I had the money to make it beautiful, I can’t look after it, not even with Sarah’s help.”

“What about Michael?”

“Michael needs an old rambling house even less than I do,” Nan says. “It’s time to say good-bye. I wasn’t sure when I saw Mark Stephenson, but I’m sure now. Tell me honestly—” she leans toward Daff and takes her hand—“could you see you and Michael living in this house?”

Daff blushes and looks away. “I . . . I’m not sure . . .”

“Come on, Daff.” Nan smiles. “I know what’s going on with you two. I’m delighted. I couldn’t be happier. I haven’t seen Michael this at ease with anyone ever, and there is a light in your eyes now that was missing when you arrived. I think the two of you are perfect together, and I, for one, certainly see a long and happy future—” Nan stops short, seeing Daff’s eyes fill with tears. “What is it?”

“Oh Nan,” she says. “It has been so lovely but something has happened. I don’t know why, but Michael isn’t talking to me, he can barely look at me. It hurts so much. Oh Lord,” she says and begins to sob, “I had forgotten quite how much this hurts.”

“You love him,” Nan says simply, and Daff looks up with shock, not having thought about love, not thinking that love would find her, here, in Nantucket, so unexpectedly. She nods slowly as Nan smiles.

“Then go to him and talk,” she says. “And for heaven’s sake find out what the matter is. You know as well as I do, my dear, that the key to a good relationship is knowing how to communicate. Everybody argues, everyone has misunderstandings, but you have to know how to get through them, not to let resentment build up until you can’t find your way back to one another. Perhaps, ” she muses, “perhaps things might have been different if Everett had known how to communicate with me.”

“Thank you, Nan.” Daff leans down and kisses her. “You’re a wise woman.”

"You will be fine.” She pats Daff’s hand. “Go to him and tell him how you feel.”

Daff walks off as a rusty old jeep pulls into the driveway, and Nan walks over, unable to conceal her delight.

“Sarah!” Nan opens her arms as Sarah, grinning, climbs out of the car and runs over to give Nan a huge hug, noticing how frail she seems.

“Nan!” she scolds. “You’re so thin. You haven’t been looking after yourself.”

Nan laughs. “Oh I have, and I’ve been busy looking after everyone else. I missed you.”

She pulls back and suddenly holds Sarah at arm’s length, looking her slowly up and down with a knowing gleam in her eye. “Never mind me being thin,” she says, a smile spreading on her face. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Sarah’s mouth drops open in disbelief. “How do you know?” she sputters. “How can you possibly tell? I’m only six weeks!”

Nan raises an eyebrow. “You know some people say I’m a witch.” Nan winks at her before kissing Sarah on the forehead and taking her hand. “What lovely news. A baby. I can’t think of anything nicer.”

“I know, it’s so exciting.” Sarah grins. “But we’re not supposed to be telling anyone until twelve weeks.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Where is everyone?” Sarah asks. “How’s Michael? And the tenants? Any romances I ought to know about?”

Nan laughs. “Oh my goodness, Sarah. I don’t even know where to start. Let’s go inside and make some tea.”

The cars and bicycles are all there, other than the truck Daniel has taken to Bee’s, so Michael can’t be far.

Daff finds him, eventually, down at the beach, bobbing in the whaler that he is painstakingly oiling. He doesn’t see Daff as she strips her shorts off, quickly and quietly, wading into the water in her bathing suit without a sound, swimming noiselessly out to the boat.

Michael looks up to see Daff swimming, her hair slicked back, seal-like as she glides toward the boat. He feels an instant mix of desire, warmth, pain, confusion. He can’t avoid her here, so he puts the oil and rag down, extending a hand to help her onto the boat, silently handing her a towel to dry herself off.

“I’m sorry,” Daff blurts out, breathless both from nerves and from the swim. “Whatever it is I’ve done, I’m sorry. I would never do anything to hurt you, not intentionally, but clearly I have. I want you to know that whatever I have to do to make it better, I will do.”

“It’s not what you’ve done to me,” Michael says quietly, not looking at her. “It’s what you’ve done to my mother.”

“What are you talking about?”

Michael finally looks up and meets her eyes. “I heard you,” he says. “I heard you and Mark Stephenson. I heard about the dirty little deal you have with him, the fact that you’ll get money from persuading my mother to sell him the house, except—” he laughs bitterly—“I also heard the part about him reneging because you didn’t fulfill your part of the bargain by getting him the house cheap.”

“Oh Michael.” Daff hangs her head in shame. “I am so, so sorry you heard that. Listen to me.” She stands in front of him and takes his hands. “Mark Stephenson offered me a percentage the night of that party. I never said yes to it, although for a while, I’ll admit, I was tempted. I kept thinking I wouldn’t have to worry about child support running out, I wouldn’t have to lie awake every night worrying about money, about putting Jess through college. Then I realized I couldn’t do it.”

“It didn’t sound like that from what I overheard,” Michael says.

“I know. Because I was about to tell Mark Stephenson I didn’t want his money, didn’t want anything to do with it because it all felt too dirty, and because I didn’t want to lie to you, or Nan, or start this relationship with a betrayal. Before I had the opportunity to tell him I didn’t want the money, he said he wasn’t paying me anyway, and I was so stunned by how unethical he was, I couldn’t even speak.”

There is a long silence as Michael digests what she is saying.

“Do you swear you weren’t going to take the money?”

“I swear to you,” Daff says. “I couldn’t do it, and I wouldn’t do it. And . . .” She takes a deep breath. “This means too much to me for me to fuck it up. I never ever expected to find this, but you’re the best man I’ve ever met. There’s no way I’d do something that stupid.”

Another silence. Daff looks away. When she looks back it is to see Michael grin. “You thought about it, though.”

“Yes.” Daff feels a pang of relief. She knows from his grin it will be okay. “I did.”

“I suppose I can forgive you.” He slides the strap of her bathing suit off her shoulder as he puts his arms around her and pulls her close, burying his nose in her neck, inhaling deeply, loving the feel of her, the smell of her, the taste of her. “You’re only human after all.”

As the pair of them sink to the deck of the boat, the water laps gently around them and the seagulls cry overhead.

“I love this house.” Stephen pauses at the bay window in Nan’s room and looks out at the water, turning to smile at Nan. “I have spent years sailing past and looking at it from the outside. It’s just as beautiful on the inside.”

“Thank you,” Nan says. “It has been a warm and happy home for us for many years.”

“I’ve heard about the parties that used to be held here,” Stephen says as he turns back to gaze at the lawn. “What a shame people don’t throw parties like that anymore.”

“Well,” she says, “perhaps if you buy Windermere you can hold those parties again.”

Keith’s eyes light up. “Oh we do love a good party.” He moves next to his partner to admire the view.

“We do too.” Nan muses, “I do think when we leave we ought to go out with a bang, don’t you think? A party on the lawn? A band? A wonderful supper?”

“Oh God.” Keith shivers with delight. “Even the word ‘supper’ makes me think of Cary Grant and Grace Kelly. This is the perfect house for a party like that . . . we could do white tie, or a black and white ball like Truman Capote! Oh Nan! Oh Stephen! Think of the parties we could throw!”

Nan laughs delightedly and turns her head slightly to whisper to Daniel, “Thank you for bringing them here. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see living here.”

“Do you mean that?” Daniel whispers back as he looks across the room and catches Matt’s eye.

“I do,” she says. “I love Stephen’s portfolio. I love that he brought it along, to show me that he really does want to restore Windermere. And Keith is a gas! I think they’re the perfect people to inject new life into the old girl.”

“They’re so much better than that Mark Stephenson,” Nan says to Michael and Daff when they are back downstairs and Daniel and Matt are walking Stephen and Keith around the garden. “What a dreadful man he was.”

“You did know, then?” Daff is amazed. “I was worried you were taken in by him.”

“Not for a second. I knew he’d tear down this house immediately, and frankly I expected it. I mind that far less than him lying about it, trying to tell me that he wanted to raise his family here because he thought I’d sell it to him for less.”

“Have you told him you won’t sell it to him?” Michael is worried.

“No, darling, of course not. I wanted Stephen and Keith to see the house properly first, and let’s just wait for them to make an offer. I must say I’m still keen to do a private deal—those realtor fees are extortionate—sorry, Daff.”

Daff shrugs and looks away, catching Michael’s eye as she does so, the pair of them exchanging a small smile.

“We love it,” Keith says, his eyes filling up as he wipes a tear away. “I think we’d be incredibly happy here, and Stephen already has wonderful ideas for restoring her.”

Nan smiles. “How funny, I have always thought of Windermere as a her, too. The grand old lady on the bluff.”

“Rather like you,” Keith says, “if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Not at all. Far better grand than mad,” she says with a wink.

“I love her!” Keith mouths silently to Matt, who mouths back, “Told you!”

“Perhaps you and I could go somewhere quiet and talk business? ” Stephen says softly.

“Of course.” Nan stands up and allows herself to be escorted out of the room. “Let’s go into the study.”

“Five million?” Michael looks confused. “But you wanted ten from Mark Stephenson. That sounds like far less than the house is worth.”

“But he wants less than half the land!” Nan says. “He wants the house, and three acres. Says the rest is too unmanageable for him. We could build another house, right here! It couldn’t be more perfect!”

“Wow!” Daff starts to smile as she turns to Michael. “That really does sound perfect.”

“We could even build two houses,” Nan says, her excitement barely contained. “One for me, and one for you two—well, three, including Jess.”

Daff blushes. “Us two? No . . . we’re . . .” She looks at Michael, embarrassed, for she would never dare think that far into the future, would never dare say something that would expose her that much, make her that vulnerable.

Michael takes her hand and grins at Nan. “What a splendid idea,” he says, and Daff feels stars of joy explode inside her.

“Now the question is,” Nan says, with a small devilish frown, “how do we tell Mr. Stephenson that the house is not his after all?”

“Oh let me!” Daff says. “Please let me! I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

Michael sits in the waiting room, flicking through a boating magazine as Daff goes into Mark Stephenson’s offIce, where the walls are so thin Michael can hear every word.

“I thought it only fair to come here in person,” Daff says quietly, “to inform you that Mrs. Powell has had an offer on the house that she has decided to accept.”

There is a silence, then an explosion. “What?”

Daff starts to repeat herself until Mark Stephenson interrupts.

“I heard you! What do you mean, she’s had another offer? What the hell are you playing at? You can’t just accept another offer without coming back to me first!”