A Nantucket Wedding(65)
“What do you mean by that?” Poppy snapped.
“Calm down. I only mean it’s a big deal, stepping away from the family company. It’s a life passage. He’s stepping out of a lifetime as the chairman of a huge organization into being a retired old man.”
“Daddy will never be just another retired old man!” Poppy cried.
“I didn’t mean it that way. Come on, Poppy, let’s get a drink and chill. We’re getting way too dramatic about all this.”
“I can’t drink. I’m pregnant, remember?”
Their voices faded as they left the hall for the kitchen. Alison realized she’d been holding her breath. She absolutely did not want David’s children to know she’d overheard them. She wondered whether she should tell Jane that Ethan wasn’t actually divorced. But after all, Jane was still married to Scott.
The front door opened and her grandchildren thundered in, followed by Felicity and Jane.
“Swimming, yay!” Luke yelled, tossing his paper bag of new toys on the floor.
“Luke, no.” Felicity bent over to pick up the bag. “I told you and Alice if you kept on fussing you wouldn’t be able to swim anymore today.”
Aha, Alison thought, as both children went into fits of screaming. Here’s something I can help with.
Alison walked down the stairs and put an arm around Felicity. “Hello, darling.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’ve always thought that one should never give a punishment to children that makes it even more unpleasant for the mother.”
Felicity gawked. “What?”
“If they can’t swim, what will they do with all their energy?”
“Oh,” Felicity said. “Right. Clever.” She knelt down and brought her children close to her. “I’ve changed my mind. You can go swimming now, as soon as Jane and I get our bathing suits on. Because you were fussing in the car, you can’t have dessert tonight.”
Luke and Alice exchanged glances, agreeing without words: This was a compromise they could accept.
“Fine,” Alice said. “I’ll put on my bathing suit.”
“You, too, Luke. And don’t leave your clothes in the hall,” Felicity told them.
twenty-one
That night, Jane insisted she’d prepare dinner. She settled her mother and David in chairs on the deck with a pitcher of sangria and glasses rattling with ice. When Felicity offered to help, Jane said, “Absolutely not. This is my treat. Go have a drink with your husband.”
The four children had showered and shampooed and were outside playing an unorthodox game of badminton. Their shouts of laughter, their helpless giggles, drifted in on the light breeze. Jane smiled. The laughter was contagious.
She was making two different dishes: a comforting, familiar, tuna noodle casserole for the four kids and pasta with fresh tuna, red onions, olives, and shaved parmesan for the adults. She found several bottles of red wine to pair with the pasta dish and she’d poured herself a glass to enjoy while she was cooking.
She set the dining room table for the adults and the kitchen table for the four children. She set out a green salad and the wineglasses and was back in the kitchen, grating the parmesan, when she sensed someone entering the kitchen.
“Hey,” Ethan said.
Jane looked at him. His tan was more golden, his blond hair more sun-streaked, and his blue eyes flashed whenever he met Jane’s. After their adventure on the moors, they’d returned to the sleeping house and crept quietly to their own beds. The next day, as scheduled, they’d both flown home. Since then, he’d texted her once, and she had not replied. She was trying to be thoughtful about this. She was trying to be good.
“Hey,” Jane replied.
“Whatever you’re making smells delicious.”
Jane nodded toward the open bottle. “Pour yourself a glass of wine.”
Ethan did, moving slowly, deliberately, doing that thing he’d done the day they made the bread, coming just near enough to Jane that he almost touched her, then turning away. Her body responded. She wanted to reach out and pull him to her. She wanted to press her body against his.
“I texted you this week,” Ethan said, leaning against the counter next to the stove. “You didn’t answer.”
Her pulse was throbbing in every part of her body. She’d become a human engine of desire.
“Okay,” she said aloud to herself, “I’ve sautéed the tuna and the pasta’s bubbling. Salad’s on the table. I’ve got five minutes before I call everyone in for dinner.”
Ethan gently rested his hand on her wrist, turning her toward him. “Can we take a ride after dinner?”
This is how people need air, Jane thought. They might want to drown and hold their breath and sink into the ocean, but the body wants to live and bursts to the surface. The irony tonight was that Ethan was the air, and Jane had to force herself not to take it.
“Ethan, no. Wait, let me say this. I want to have sex with you, but I’m married, and so I won’t have sex with you.”
“Your husband is in Wales, right?”
“He is. And we, Scott and I, are farther apart than we’ve ever been, and I don’t mean geographically. I’m angry at him, and I’m disappointed by him, and I don’t really know whether we’ll stay married or not—”