Wait for the Rain (30 page)

KC and Skylar bade good-bye to Derek and Phil, then made their way across the lot, arm in arm. Daphne hung back for a minute.

“Thanks again for your insight on the whole divorce thing,” Derek said to Daphne as Phil went to retrieve their rental car. You’ve really helped me see my situation from a different perspective.”

Daphne adjusted her bag over her shoulder. “Oh gosh, it was my pleasure. Not that I’ve got it all figured out by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m definitely in a much better place than I used to be, so if my experience can help others in the least, I’m all for it.”

“Well, as one of the
others
, I appreciate your wisdom. Maybe you should start an actual club for divorced parents, although it might be hard for me to make many meetings, given that I live in Chicago.”

She laughed. “Now that’s an idea. It might be the blind leading the blind, but at least we’d all be jumping off the cliff together, right? But maybe you’re onto something. In college I had all these grandiose plans of being a journalist that never materialized, so maybe I could write a blog for divorcées? The first post would, of course, be about the magical healing properties of St. Mirika.”
As well as the magical healing properties of a good old-fashioned fling.

She was joking, but then a thought struck her.
Maybe I shouldn’t be joking?

He pointed to himself. “I’d subscribe to that blog in a heartbeat, so if you get something together, let me know.”

“Will do.” She glanced again at the parking lot. Skylar and KC were in the idling car.

It was time to say good-bye, and they both knew it.

Instead, Derek changed the subject.

“Where are you staying?” he asked. He stood just a hair closer to Daphne than was necessary. Something was different now.

“In a beach house on the other side of the island. What about you?”

“We’re at the Four Seasons.”

She felt her eyes brighten. “We went there yesterday for spa treatments! It’s beautiful. Nothing like a massage to melt away the tension.” She maintained eye contact as she spoke.
This man is attracted to me. And I’m going to enjoy it.

Derek swallowed. “So, are there any other things you suggest Phil and I do while we’re here?”

She patted her stomach. “Be sure to check out Bananarama on the beach if you like smoothies. Delicious.”

“Bananarama. Like the band?”

She nodded. “I just adored them back in the day. Oh and speaking of music, you might want to check out the Castaway if you like to dance. The crowd skews a little young, but it’s fun nonetheless, at least for a night.”
Yes, I’m forty and I’m not afraid to go out dancing. Just not every night.

She glanced again in the direction of the car, and Derek cleared his throat. “Do you have plans tonight? I’d love to buy you a drink, if you’re up for it, that is,” he said. He was clearly flustered, which she found endearing.

She smiled at him. “It makes perfect sense. And I’d love to, but we leave tomorrow, so I think we’re going to make it a girls’ night.”

He reached for his wallet and pulled out a business card, then handed it to her. “Does life ever bring you to Chicago?”

She studied the card, then slipped it into her tote bag. “A week ago I would have said no to that question.”

He chuckled. “Is that a yes then?”

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then turned to go. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure what it is, but I’m looking forward to finding out.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Well aren’t
you
the picture of rest and relaxation. You look absolutely revitalized!” Carol greeted Daphne with a smile at the curb outside baggage claim. She moved her enormous umbrella to one side and gave Daphne a quick hug before reaching for her suitcase. “Can you believe this downpour? It’s been coming down in buckets nonstop for days!”

“It rained in St. Mirika too, but only in little bursts,” Daphne said, already missing the feel of the warm drops on her skin.

Once they were safely buckled inside the SUV, Carol pulled away from the curb, then glanced at Daphne. “Looks like you got a little color on that fair complexion of yours, it suits you. So, how did it go? Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

Daphne sighed and leaned back into the leather seat. “I don’t even know how to answer that question.”

Carol laughed. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

Daphne smiled. “It is. I missed Emma, of course, but it was so nice to get away. I had no idea how much I needed that.”

“Let me guess. Being with your old pals brought out another side of you?”

Daphne nodded. “I hadn’t realized how much I’d changed until I was with people who reminded me of what I was like
before
I got married. I used to be afraid to even think about peeling those layers back, but now that I’ve started to do it, I’m finally beginning to feel like my old self again, and it feels good.”

Carol reached over and gave Daphne’s knee a squeeze. “Sounds like you watered those plants with some of that island rain.”

Daphne stared ahead for a moment, her eyes picturing the first downpour she experienced on St. Mirika, before remembering what Carol had said just a few days earlier—although it seemed like much longer than that. “I guess I did. We promised to get together at least once a year, even if it’s just for a weekend. We already decided that our next trip is going to be to Vegas.”

“Good for you.” Carol held the steering wheel with one hand and increased the speed of the windshield wipers. “Holy moly, it is
really
coming down today.”

Daphne turned her head to the right and gazed out into the storm. Then she smiled.
I used to hate the rain.

“Still up for Jeni’s?” Carol asked as she pulled to a stop in front of Daphne’s house. “I’d still love to treat you to a belated birthday scoop, despite this awful weather.”

“It’s not
so
bad. Emma’s not due home for a few hours, so let me unpack and take care of a few things, and then I’ll come over. Would that work?” She opened the door and stepped onto the wet sidewalk.

Carol shifted the gear into park and held up her palms. “I’m all yours.”

“Great. See you soon.” Daphne was just about to shut the passenger-side door when a thought occurred to her. She turned and poked her head back inside the car. “Hey, Carol? Where’s a place to get a good smoothie around here?”

“A smoothie? I have no idea.”

Daphne pursed her lips. “That’s what I thought. Okay, see you in a bit.” She shut the door and hurried up the manicured walkway into the house. The rain was coming down even harder now, and she was already feeling the chilly air creep underneath her coat. Once inside she turned on the lights and rolled her suitcase into the foyer. The house was quiet and still and clean, but it didn’t feel so empty anymore. She glanced around and saw it the way Skylar and KC would. Tastefully decorated. Charming. Welcoming and warm.

Daphne hadn’t thought of her house that way in a long time, but she was seeing it with different eyes now. It wasn’t just a house. It was a home. It was
her
home.
And Emma’s.
My life isn’t empty.

She stood there for a few moments, the memories of her time on St. Mirika floating around in her head; then she turned and walked into the kitchen to get some water. She reached into the cabinet and pulled down a glass, the clatter of the rain against the windowsill nearly drowning out the sound of the faucet. She took a long sip, then set the glass on the counter and reached into the drying rack for her favorite pink mug. She held it for a moment, then kissed it and gently placed it back inside the cupboard. Then she turned and looked at the refrigerator, scanning Emma’s activity schedule.

This weekend was a volleyball tournament. Brian and Alyssa would most likely be there.

Daphne braced herself, expecting to feel a pang somewhere deep inside at the thought of seeing them together. But it didn’t happen. She felt no pang. No heartache. No regret. Instead, she felt cal
m . . .
hopefu
l . . .
free. She closed her eyes and sighed.
I’m free.

She’d finally stopped focusing on the past. She was only just beginning to figure out the future, but that was okay with her. It was more than okay.

She finished the water and set the empty glass in the sink, then reached into her tote bag and pulled out the business card Clay had set on her dresser yesterday morning before dashing out the door to pack. She flipped it over and smiled at the note he’d scrawled on the back:
My door’s always open for you, Daphne White. For Fred too.

She skipped into her bedroom, gave the card a quick kiss, then carefully tucked it into the top drawer of her dresser. She gently closed the drawer, then left her bedroom and strolled into the kitchen. She knew she’d probably never see Clay again, but that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all.

When she reached the refrigerator, she pulled out another business card from her bag, this one from Derek Donovan, strategic consultant, in Chicago. She smiled at the name for a moment, then slid Emma’s schedule a few inches to one side before securing the card with a magnet. She probably wouldn’t see Derek again either, but then again, maybe she would.
Maybe I will.

Her future was wide open, and it was all up to her. She smiled. It was time to get ice cream with Carol and celebrate.

She wouldn’t be ordering vanilla.

Acknowledgments

People often ask me if I have the plot figured out before I begin writing a novel. It’s a great question, but one to which I don’t have a stock answer. The truth is, sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t. Actually, that’s not quite accurate. I’ve never had an
entire
plot figured out ahead of time, but for some of my books I wrote from a general outline without straying too far outside the lines, and with others I began with a vision of the first and last scenes, then figured out the rest as I went. When I started writing
Wait for the Rain
, however, I didn’t have an outline. I didn’t have a beginning. Or an end. I didn’t have anything! All I had was the general idea of three friends reuniting to celebrate a milestone birthday. How that evolved into
Wait for the Rain
, I’m still not sure, but now that I think about it, maybe that’s the whole point of the story.

For this book I had the pleasure of working with Danielle Marshall and Charlotte Herscher for the first time, and it was indeed a pleasure. I once read somewhere that editors are part business manager/part therapist, and as the KC character would say, “I’m not gonna lie”—it’s pretty true. Ladies, thank you both for your insight, guidance, patience, and passion! I also would like to thank my longtime editor Christina Henry de Tessan, whom I simply adore. I hope you know how much you’ve helped me grow as a writer.

My high school pal Tami May McMillan gets yet another shout-out for her support and input throughout the entire gestation of this book, as does my mommy dearest, the master proofreader. I’m lucky you two haven’t figured out that I should be paying you for all your help . . .

I’d also like to acknowledge a handful of friends who unwittingly contributed to this story just by being themselves. When readers tell me they enjoy how realistic my books are, I always say it’s because I like to include funny or interesting things the people in my own life say and do. This time around I have the following to thank for the inspiration/material: Debbie Bolzan, Kat and Mike Burn, Kristi Candau, Amy Clarfeld Lavin, Chris Conroy (who also took the headshot on my bio page—thanks, Conroy!), Deb Custodio, Lynette Ecklund, Annie Flaig, Natalie Gonzalez, Siobhan Jones, Lea (Eaglette) Knop, Anna Krause, Jen Livingstone, Peggy (Turtle!) Prendergast, Lea Redmond, Jen Moscow Rittmaster, Carrie Jean Schmidt, Brett Sharkey, Michele Murnane Sharkey, Trudi Sharpsteen, Gene Sky, Jamie Strait, Steve Summer, Hilary Teper, and Ithti Toy Ulit. If any of you read this book and your contribution doesn’t jump out at you, let me know, and I'll refresh your memory. I bet some of you don't even realize how witty you are, but I certainly do.

And to the team at Lake Union Publishing: In addition to Danielle Marshall, it’s been a joy working with Terry Goodman, Thom Kephart, Jessica Poore, Susan Stockman, and Gabriella (Gabe) Van den Heuvel. Writing can be a lonely profession sometimes, so thanks for making me feel like part of the gang!

About the Author

Photo ©
Chris Conroy Photography

A former PR executive who abandoned a successful career to pursue a more fulfilling life, Maria Murnane is the bestselling author of
Cassidy Lane
,
Katwalk
,
Perfect on Paper
,
It’s a Waverly Life
,
Honey on Your Mind
,
and
Chocolate for Two
, which garnered a starred review in
Publishers Weekly
. Originally from California, she now lives in Brooklyn. Learn more at
www.mariamurnane.com
.