Surfside Sisters(79)
“I don’t think it’s the wine that made you high,” Keely said.
Eloise smiled with a twinkle in her eyes. “I don’t, either.”
As Keely went through her evening routine, she realized she wasn’t tired. She felt like a child after a birthday party, all wound up and clueless about how to calm down. She knew what she wanted to do, and after tossing and turning in bed, she allowed herself to do it. She called Gray.
“Are you still awake?” she asked.
He laughed. “Are you?”
“Thank you for such a brilliant evening. You made my mother very happy.”
“You seemed happy, too,” Gray said.
“I am. I was.” Keely hesitated. “Listen, I don’t want to make any rash decisions tonight, but could you come over here for dinner tomorrow evening?”
“I wish I could. I’m flying back to New York tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh.” Keely was surprised at her disappointment. “I thought you were going to be here for three days.”
“Yes, so did I. But things change.”
“Gray—”
“Besides, I’ve been called in to consult about a new patient. It’s urgent. I need to be there.”
“I see. Yes, of course. Maybe some other time.”
“Maybe.”
“Gray, I’m sorry—”
“We had a great evening together, Keely. I thank you for that. I’m off to bed. Good night, Keely.”
“Good night, Gray.”
Keely turned on the small fan on her dresser to allow the white noise of the spinning blades to lull her to sleep. She snuggled down in bed and closed her eyes. But it was a long time before she slept.
* * *
—
She woke with the morning sun beaming into her room. The rest of the house was quiet. So her mother wasn’t up yet, and it was after eight. Keely realized that she was unconsciously hoping that the dinner last night had changed her mother, at least a little. Eloise had been so happy and talkative. Clearly she had enjoyed herself. Keely prayed Eloise wasn’t retreating back into her solitary state.
Maybe her mother was simply sleeping late.
She brought her laptop out to the patio and began to work. First, she answered emails and checked on Instagram posts, but before long, as it often happened, scenes and dialog for her new book began to intrude into her mind. She opened the document file and wrote.
* * *
—
At some point in the morning, Eloise rose, poured a cup of coffee, and settled into her chair facing the television. Around noon, Sebastian phoned.
“I can’t talk long. I just wanted to touch base. I’ll be up here another day.”
“How’s your father?”
“The doctors say he’s recovering, but it’s not that obvious to us,” Sebastian said. “Poor Mom is beside herself. He needs physical and speech rehabilitation, but when we talk about taking him to the facility on the Cape, he roars and pounds his bed. He wants to go home.”
“I can understand that.”
“Yes, but it makes it harder for the rest of us. Well, for Mom. She’s overwhelmed. I’m afraid she’s going to have a stroke or a heart attack. Dad is a frightening sight. His right side isn’t working well, and the right side of his face sags.”
“Your poor father.”
“I know, but he’s not in pain. He’s going to recover. It will take time, and it will take a lot of work, but he can do it. Every stroke is different, they said, and we don’t know how well he’s comprehending what’s going on, or the future, or even the present.” Sebastian’s voice hitched. “We’ve been told to be gentle with him. Not to rush him. So we’re trying our best, but it’s as if an alien has taken over our father. You know what he was like. So strong, so powerful. Suddenly, he’s a little old man.”
“Oh, Sebastian. I’m sorry.”
“It’s going to change everything, Keely. Everything for him. Everything for us.”
* * *
—
Later, Keely wished she’d asked exactly who was included in that “us,” but in the moment she sensed that Sebastian was focused entirely on his father. Their own relationship was on hold; that was obvious. It wasn’t what Keely had dreamed of happening, but then it surely wasn’t what Al Maxwell had reckoned for.
Did Keely think for even one brief moment that Karma had given Al Maxwell what he deserved for the way he had treated Keely so long ago? She allowed herself to consider that thought. It was shabby of her to think that way. Quickly, she let the thought dissolve, disappear. She was truly sorry for Mr. Maxwell. She wished him well.
Which was a good thing, since she wanted to marry his son.
For the rest of the week, Keely kept to a strict writing routine. An odd sort of dynamism operated inside her, so that she could use the pressures of the real world to fuel her fiction writing. By the end of the week, she sent three chapters to Sally and to Juan. She was anxious about what Sally would say. Would this be the book that Juan hoped for?
Her mother continued to come out of her shell. She had lunch with friends. She volunteered at the Seconds Shop. She tried on the new clothes Keely had ordered and was quite pleased with how she looked. She was happier, and Keely went with her to a movie, and a lecture at the library, and out to the Seagrille again.