Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(92)

“Oh,” Luke said, sticking out one doughy arm, pointing at the pelicans that drifted elegant and swift as fighter planes just inches off the water. “Pelicans.”

“Smart boy,” said Piper’s dad.

Piper’s parents doted on Luke the way they doted on Piper—totally besotted, neither one of them could do any wrong. Since they’d moved down, and Luke was born, Piper’s dad had even seemed to warm toward Henry a bit.

“Like his mother,” said Henry.

Henry and his father-in-law didn’t talk much, but the relationship was respectful, each acknowledging Piper’s love for the other and behaving accordingly.

The beach was empty, far from the area’s busy public beaches, butting up against the state nature preserve. Up here on North Beach was the club, a smattering of insanely big houses, and little else. There was a peace and a quietude that Henry cherished.

They chatted—about Henry’s work, about how Paul was adjusting to retirement, Luke’s obvious intelligence and stunning beauty. Just like our Piper—and you, of course, Henry.

“It’s nice of you,” said Paul after a long silence. “To have dinner with us every Wednesday.”

It was kind of an out of the blue thing to say. They’d just been talking about the Tampa Bay Lightning.

Do I have a choice? he thought but didn’t say. When it came to Piper’s parents, Henry didn’t feel like he had that much to say about it. Especially since he didn’t have any family of his own. Just Gemma who they saw at Easter usually, and when she came down to visit. Miss Gail was still a part of their lives. Henry helped at her group home when he could, had mentored some of the boys in her care.

“It’s our pleasure,” Henry said.

It wasn’t bad, really. The club was beautiful, and the food was delicious. Paul and Gretchen were good people, kind and generous. He just always had the slight sense of being on the outside looking in. But maybe that was just him; Gretchen especially worked hard to make him feel included, appreciated.

“I never thought you were the right man for Piper,” said Paul. Luke was pulling at the older man’s glasses.

Okay. Wow. No surprise there. But not sure it needed to be said out loud, right?

“But I was wrong,” he went on. “You’re a devoted husband. A loving father. You had a rough hand dealt and still you succeeded in your life. That’s—pretty amazing.”

Henry felt himself choking up a little, looked away. Paul gently wrestled his glasses back from Luke who yelled in protest.

“Easy there, buddy. Give PopPop back his glasses,” said Henry softly.

Luke chilled. He was easy. An easy kid, happy most of the time, and not prone to melt down unless he was tired or hungry. And he probably was ready for bed. Wednesday nights were late for him.

“I just felt that needed saying,” said Paul when Henry didn’t know how to respond. “If not now, when? Right?”

“You’ve been good to me,” said Henry finally, struggling through the awkwardness. “I’m not sure I would have survived if not for your family. You’re right. She did deserve better. But here we are.”

“No, son,” said Paul, looking away. “There’s nothing better than strong, loyal, and loving. You’re all those things. And we’ll always be here for you all. That’s what family does.”

Family.

“Thank you, sir.”

Luke started to fuss again, weakly, but definitely building. The corners of his mouth were pulled down into a comical frown and he rubbed at his eyes.

“It’s past his bedtime,” said Henry.

“Best be going.”

Piper and Gretchen looking like versions of each other in colors that coordinated—Piper in a navy shift dress, Gretchen in a periwinkle sweater set—were already exiting, the valet bringing the cars around. Just as Henry was buckling Luke into the car seat, his phone buzzed. He looked down to see a text that made his stomach bottom out.

Call me. We need to talk.

Cat.



* * *



Because West had encouraged Henry to keep up his connection to Cat, keep her talking, he waited until Luke was down and Piper was in the shower, then went out to the pool deck to call her.

He walked over the pavers, down to the gate that led to their dock. Their small boat sat on a lift; they hadn’t touched it since Luke had been born and were thinking about selling—which he’d been told was the way of boats. Love them, then feel guilty about not using them, then sell.

Through the sliding doors, their great room and kitchen were visible. Across the Intracoastal, similar smallish houses, and some giant ones lined up along the seawall, interior lights glowing, palm trees lit by landscape lighting. He stood a moment, listening to the water lapping against the dock, the hull of his neighbor’s much bigger boat. A halyard clanged in the breeze, and he drew the salt air into his lungs.

Before he dialed, he thought about his father-in-law and what his words had meant. More than Henry would have thought. All the time he’d spent looking for family, and now here he was, a part of one, helping to grow it. Maybe family is more than where you come from, maybe it’s also where you’re going, what you build with the choices you make.

“Henry,” she said when she picked up. “Call off your dog.”