The Sunshine Potluck Society, page 6
“That’s exactly how I feel,” she replied.
Chapter Twelve
“Templeton wants to see his hourly breakdown for the month,” Debbie said into the intercom on her desk.
Her assistant, Evelyne, responded immediately. “I’ll put the report together and send it over. Do you want me to copy you on the email?”
“Yes, please,” Debbie replied.
She pressed the button to end their conversation and returned her attention to her computer screen. She’d been in court all morning and now had to catch up on emails and admin work before a client meeting. It was a busy day and didn’t look like it was slowing down anytime soon. Although she’d asked Evelyne not to book further appointments after three. She had a plan for seducing her husband tonight, and she didn’t want anything getting in the way.
Debbie opened the file on the Templeton case. They were suing a client for breach of contract. It was a straightforward case, but Debbie’s mind kept wandering as she ran over the facts. She found it hard to focus. Normally, she had no difficulty keeping on task. She was driven—everyone she worked with said that about her. Driven, ambitious, smart, calculated, and probably a lot of other not-so-nice things.
She’d made a lot of friends over the years and more than a few enemies. It was the nature of her business. But she wondered if it was worth it now that she was coming to the tail end of her career. She’d missed out on so much, and what did she have to show for it? A company she’d have to sell at some point in the near future, and a group of colleagues who would likely call and email for a while but would move on with their lives once she wasn’t part of their day-to-day.
Was she being morbid? Probably. Things weren’t so bad. She had a lovely condo. A beautiful weekender in Sunshine and her childhood friends. It was more than many could say. Her thirties had been more difficult—that was when everyone around her was having babies. And it was all they could talk about. Pregnancy, labour, child rearing—every conversation revolved around the same topics. And she had nothing to add. In fact, all she wanted to do was to hide away. And most of the time she did, in her work. She didn’t want to tell people about her miscarriage. Only Gwen and Joanna knew about that.
To everyone else, she was the career-driven woman who hadn’t made time for a family. And now it was one of her biggest regrets. They shouldn’t have waited so long to try. Or maybe they hadn’t tried hard enough. She hadn’t gone down the IVF path. They’d both agreed their lives would be full enough without children. But maybe they’d made the wrong choice. She couldn’t help being envious of her friends’ overflowing lives, their grandchildren, the big family holiday gatherings. Especially now that Caleb barely spoke a word to her even when they did spend time together.
After her meeting, she hurried home. The condo was quiet and dark with all the draperies pulled shut. She opened them up, and the afternoon sun flooded the apartment. It covered half of the tenth floor and was far bigger than the two of them needed. But they’d bought it three decades earlier, and it had been a steal at the time. Now it was worth a small fortune, although Debbie didn’t think much about money or real estate value these days. They had more than they needed, she knew that. Otherwise, she left their financial management to her husband. She had enough to deal with managing her business.
She changed into a pair of slacks and a silk blouse, then donned an apron and tied it neatly around her trim waist. With a few deft sweeps of her hairbrush, she pulled her bob back into a clip and out of her face. She selected a soft folk album by Sarah McLachlan to play over the sound system. Then she reached into the refrigerator for the roast beef she’d stashed there the previous afternoon. It was far too big for the two of them—they would eat the leftovers for days.
With the roast in the oven, she sliced up potatoes, pumpkin, sweet potato, carrots and turnips and drizzled olive oil over them before seasoning with salt and pepper. Then she placed the roasting pan on the top shelf of the oven.
While she made the peas and corn, onion gravy and bread rolls from scratch, she opened a bottle of red wine and sipped it. Slowly the kitchen filled with the delicious scents of roasted meat and vegetables. Debbie danced to the music, her wine glass raised high in the air. She felt alive for the first time in a long time, really alive. She was going to save her marriage. She’d thought about it a lot in recent years — should she leave him? Look for a man who saw her? Who appreciated her? Or should she fight to save what they had?
When they’d married thirty years earlier, they’d had hearts full of dreams. They’d loved each other so much, she almost couldn’t stand it. Hated to be away from him. Couldn’t stand it when he travelled for work. And when they were together, her heart was full. But in recent years, she felt as though she was an afterthought for him. Someone he stayed with out of duty. He was polite to her, kind even. He kissed her on the cheek when he left for work. He told her his schedule, most of the time. But the passion had drifted out of their relationship like air from a balloon.
That was normal. Wasn’t it? Of course it was. Passion faded for everyone. But shouldn’t there still be something more than this? This shell of a relationship that they had between them didn’t seem enough to stay for. And yet, she couldn’t leave. She remembered how it’d been between them, and she wanted that back. There must be something she could do.
By the time the roast was cooked, the entire condo was filled with the delicious scent. She poured two glasses of red wine and set them on the table. Then she set their places with her favourite china pattern and sparkling silverware. She waited at the table for a while, but he didn’t come home at his usual time.
Fingernails tapping on the glass tabletop, she glanced at the front door repeatedly until finally she decided to call him. He didn’t answer the phone. She hung up and stared at the screen. Now what? Maybe he was driving. He would be home soon. He hadn’t said anything about being busy tonight—she’d made certain of that. She’d asked that morning if he had anything on after work, and he’d said no, he’d be home at the usual time.
Where was he?
Two hours later, the roast looked dry. Debbie shut the oven door with a sigh, then leaned on the counter and sipped the last of her wine. She’d tried calling Caleb five times; each time, the call had gone directly to voicemail. He must have seen the missed calls. But he hadn’t texted or returned her call. Something was wrong. Maybe he’d been in an accident. Panic rose up her throat. She should call the office and check when he left.
She picked up her phone just as the front door swung open. Caleb pulled his key from the lock and glanced up at her in surprise.
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought you’d be watching something on TV by now.”
She walked over to kiss him on the cheek. There was a touch of stubble and the faint scent of his cologne. “I was waiting for you. I thought we could have dinner together.”
“Oh, sorry, I already ate. I had a late meeting at the office, and we ordered some takeaway. I hope you didn’t cook.”
“I made a roast.”
He frowned. “You did? You haven’t done that in a long time.”
“I know—I made an effort. I thought you were coming home.”
“Again, I’m sorry,” he said. “You should’ve called.”
“Check your phone,” she replied.
He pulled it out of his briefcase. “I must’ve had it on mute.”
“Never mind. I’ll eat dinner myself and put the rest away for tomorrow.” She spun on her heel to walk back to the kitchen, feeling deflated.
He didn’t follow her but instead retreated to the bedroom. Most likely to shower and change. It was his daily routine. She sat in the kitchen with a plate of almost-cold roast and ate by herself. Then she washed the dishes and padded to the bedroom to get into her PJs.
Her throat ached with unshed tears. Was this the end for them? He didn’t seem to care that she’d put work into a meal and he’d missed it. Was she expecting too much of him?
He was in the media room. She could hear the television set. The widescreen was set into the wall with armchairs placed in rows on an incline in front of it. She peeked in through the doorway. He sat in one of the armchairs, which was big enough for two, with his feet up on the footrest. A football game played on the screen. The players were life-sized.
The sight of him tugged at her heartstrings. The grey in his hair wasn’t as visible in the dim lighting, and from this angle, he looked like the young man she’d fallen in love with. He leaned forward, hunching over his knees to watch the game, then leapt to his feet with a shout, pumping a fist in the air.
She smiled to herself, then joined him. She curled up next to him in the love seat. He peered down at her in surprise and moved over. She shimmied closer again. He seemed tense. Maybe he was stressed from work. He never talked about it; she had no idea what he was up to when he was at the office. He was a barrister, like her, but he worked with bigger clients and larger dollar amounts. It must get to him sometimes, but she didn’t know, since he’d never gotten into the habit of sharing.
“How was work?” she asked.
“Huh?” His eyes never strayed from the screen.
“Did you have a good day?”
“Fine.”
“I left work early,” she said.
“Wonders never cease.”
“Maybe you could cut work tomorrow, and we could do something together. We haven’t done that in a while, and I have the day off.”
He frowned. “I can’t just take a day off. I’ve got meetings. People depend on me.”
“I know that…” She sighed. “It was an idea, that’s all. Maybe you could plan a day off.”
He didn’t respond.
His shoulder was hard beneath her cheek. She raised a hand to stroke his chest. But he leapt to his feet again with another shout, then swore at the television screen. With an ache in her heart, she got to her feet and walked out of the room. He didn’t say a word.
Chapter Thirteen
The grass was wet with dew as Emily tiptoed across it. The sun was low on the horizon, and birdsong rose in a chorus to welcome the new day. The cool air felt good on her bare skin. Goose pimples made bumps along her arms. She stood at the front door of her sister’s small single-story, three-bedroom home and knocked quietly.
Inside the house, she heard a squeal, followed by a thump and the thunder of little footsteps as they charged at the door. She smiled to herself, imagining the bedlam inside.
The door was flung open, and two sets of little eyes peered out at her followed by wide grins and shouts of delight.
“Shhh…” she said, stepping through the doorway.
She scooped Mia into her arms as Mason jumped up and down in protest. Planting kisses on Mia’s plump cheeks, she shut the door behind them, hoping the neighbours were already awake.
“Where’s Mum?” she asked Mason as she bent to set Mia back on her feet and to give Mason a hug.
He shrugged.
Just then, Wanda strode into the kitchen. “Oh, Em, you’re here. I didn’t hear the door.”
“The kids let me in.”
Wanda frowned. “You’re not supposed to answer the door. I’ve told you that.”
“It’s okay…” Emily began.
“No, it’s not. What if there was a bad person on the other side? Mason? Do you hear me?”
Mason had already run off with a shout and disappeared into the small formal dining room that Wanda had turned into a playroom.
Wanda sighed. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you. Tea?”
“I’d love one,” Emily said. “But you sit and put your feet up. I’ll make it.”
Emily exchanged places with Wanda, who sat at the kitchen table with a groan and rubbed one foot with both hands. “My feet are killing me. Ever since I was pregnant with Mia, I’ve had these terrible aches in my feet.”
“You should get that looked at.”
“After the million other things I have to do and pay for… Sure, I will get right onto that.” Wanda grimaced.
Emily filled the kettle with water and flicked on the switch. Then she began the search for two mugs.
“You said you had the morning off?” Wanda asked.
Emily nodded. “Joanna has an appointment with the physiotherapist, so she said I could take the morning. I thought it’d be nice to hang out with my favourite sister.”
“Your only sister,” Wanda replied.
Emily grinned. “True, but still my fave.”
Wanda laughed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Speaking of which, do you mind if I pop out in a few minutes? I’ve got to run some errands, and I’d really love to do it without the kids. They drive me crazy. I can hardly keep up with them these days. They both run in different directions as soon as I let them out of the car. It’s like they’ve got a pact or something. A pact to make me lose my mind.”
Emily swallowed her disappointment. She’d hoped to spend the morning catching up with Wanda. As much as she loved her niece and nephew, she missed spending time with her sister, just the two of them. It seemed every time she came over, Wanda found an excuse to leave her with the kids. And she understood—Wanda was tired, overwrought. She’d been a single mother now for twelve months, and it was hard. Her boyfriend had run off to the mines before Mia was born, leaving the three of them to cope alone.
“Have you heard from Brian?”
There was a glint in Wanda’s eyes. “No. I’m not going to. He left to make more money in the mines—that was his excuse. Said he wanted to take better care of us. But we haven’t heard from him since. I tried calling… His parents say he’s fine, but they won’t talk about him any more than that.” She looked down at her hands. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”
“You did nothing wrong,” Emily said as she dropped tea bags into the cups. “He’s the one who left his family behind.”
“I didn’t see it coming.”
“I know you didn’t,” Emily replied with a sigh. “But you can do this. You’re strong and capable. And you’ve done so well this past year. The kids are happy and healthy—that’s the main thing.”
“I guess. Although it’s lonely.”
Emily knew what she meant. Sometimes she wondered if she’d ever find a person to share her life with. She hadn’t been on a date in so long, it made her chest ache to think about it.
“It won’t always be like this. You’re in the trenches. At least your chemo is over.” Emily filled the mugs with boiling hot water and carried them to the table. She set one cup in front of Wanda, then sat across from her.
“Yes, at least I’m in remission. And I’m really grateful for that. I am. I don’t know what the kids would’ve done…” Her voice trailed off.
Emily reached out a hand to squeeze Wanda’s forearm.
Mia hummed and played in the corner with a set of blocks. In the playroom, Emily could hear Mason throwing something against the wall. She hoped it was a ball.
“It feels like it’ll be this way forever. And how will I find someone else when I have two…?” She dipped her head in Mia’s direction. “Two angels… But it makes it hard.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“There’s someone out there for you. Someone who won’t run off the moment things get hard.” Emily hoped with all her heart that was true. For herself and for Wanda. She didn’t want to go through life alone. All she’d ever wanted was a family—a husband, children to take care of. She knew her sister felt the same way. And she’d almost had the life she wanted. But Brian hadn’t wanted to get married, then he hadn’t wanted their second, unexpected pregnancy, and then he’d left without warning. Their simple dreams seemed impossible some days.
“Thanks, Em.” Wanda reached out to squeeze her hand.
Once the sun had risen, the day grew hot quickly. Emily decided to take the kids to a nearby playground by the beach. It was the best way to tucker them out and to keep them from trouble. Being in the house with them generally meant someone was up to mischief and someone else was crying. So, she packed a small bag with waters, snacks, wipes, nappies and anything else she could think of.
The three of them headed out with both kids in an enormous, unwieldy pram. But it was better than having Mason run wild in every direction. At least with the pram, she could strap him in and be certain he wouldn’t dart into traffic. He hadn’t wanted to get into the pram. He said three years old was a big boy and he didn’t need to be in the baby carriage. But she’d insisted, and thankfully he’d complied without too much trouble.
At eighteen months of age, Mia was easier to manage, although she would often hurt herself. She hadn’t been walking long and would bump into things or fall. It was a relief to be striding down the footpath that paralleled the beach, the breeze in her hair, and both kids happily chattering away in their respective seats.
The playground was nestled in the shade of an enormous fig tree. Emily slathered the kids in sunscreen anyway and then set them down in the sand. Mason immediately ran towards the slide, while Mia trundled towards a plastic wall with moving parts. Emily followed close behind her and watched her play.
A surfer jogged down the footpath towards them. He turned to head along the walkway to the beach, then stopped and looked at Emily. She recognised him with a jolt. It was Aaron.
“Oh, hi,” she said, giving him a wave.
He jogged over to her and set his surfboard down on the grass. His wetsuit was zipped up but dry. He must have only just arrived.
“I didn’t realise you were down here,” he said. “I thought you were at your sister’s this morning.”
“I thought you were at work,” she replied with a laugh.
“I’m working from home today.”
“That sounds nice.”
“We’re giving it a try. My boss is big on flexible work arrangements.” He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. It was longer than it had been, and it suited him.
