Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(34)

“I’m going to start walking every day and lifting weights.”

David moved to sit in the pale-blue cushioned chair across from her. He took a long drink, and then asked, “So, how are you settling in?”

“Pretty well. I have to remind myself I’m not here for a few weeks’ vacation but forever.”

“I remember that feeling. Especially right after I retired from my practice. I felt guilty for sleeping in or reading the paper instead of rushing off to work.” He paused. “That feeling passes.”

She took another sip, then ventured the question that had been niggling at her. “Aren’t you a bit young to retire?”

David leaned back. “My law practice was a big part of my life, I admit. An important and challenging part. But it wasn’t all of my life. I have other business ventures. Investments. And I’ve taken on a few more.” He laughed lightly. “You met one of them.”

“Ah yes, Rory. He takes a considerable amount of your time.”

“He does for now. I’m enjoying the summer with him. But we have Miss Sara come three days a week. She’s Rory’s official nanny.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. “You don’t babysit every day?”

He shook his head. “Just two days a week. And that’s only when Heather needs me. A bit more now. I’m on board for this summer while she prepares for her show. And I enjoy it. I didn’t spend much time with Heather when she was growing up, even though she is my only child. I was building my career, always working. Most men in that stage of life are caught in that spiral,” he added, not by way of defense but as a matter of fact. “My wife, Leslie, was a stay-at-home mom. She did everything.” His face softened at the memory. “She was a wonderful wife and mother. Creative and full of heart. Heather was such a shy child. We didn’t understand she had an anxiety disorder. She had few friends and didn’t get invited to many parties, so Leslie would have these big birthday parties for Heather every year. Heather, of course, dreaded them.”

Cara sympathized with Heather’s reticence at parties. Not because she herself was shy—quite the opposite. Cara was strong-minded and never reticent about voicing her opinions, more because back in high school, she’d found the parties pointless. Cara had always been an academic. She’d excelled in business. And she’d found that she didn’t need many friends, just a few true-blue ones.

Cara sipped her tea, realizing that she and Leslie were polar opposites. If Leslie was David’s type, she thought, then she wasn’t. But then again, neither was his second wife.

“You must miss Leslie.”

“Of course. She’ll always be in my heart. As I’m sure Brett will be in yours.” He paused. “But I’ve had a long time to find peace and acceptance. Heather has too, at last.” He rose to get the pitcher from the table and topped off Cara’s glass. The ice clinked in the silence.

“Would she have liked this house, do you think?”

David straightened and paused, pitcher in hand, tilting his head in consideration. “I never thought about it,” he said. “I don’t know if she’d have left her house in Charlotte. She’d designed it, decorated it. It was traditional and comfortable. Lots of curtains and wallpaper. And she loved her gardens. . . .” He looked around at his modern house, lost in thought.

“I don’t think you could say Natalie was the domestic type.”

He barked out a short laugh. “No.” He shook his head ruefully. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Do you think you remarried too quickly?”

David brought the pitcher back to the table and sat in the chair, crossing his legs. He didn’t answer.

Cara looked at her glass. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

He placed his hands on his thighs. “No, it’s not that. I don’t know the answer,” he replied honestly.

“Natalie just seemed so different from how you describe Leslie.”

“She was.”

There followed a long silence.

“You see,” David began again, “you don’t pick up where you left off when your spouse dies. That’s the first thing you learn. Though,” he added, “learning that takes time and quite a few agonizing dates.” They both chuckled. “Anyone you date is going to be a different person, with his or her own likes, dislikes, strengths, flaws. It’s a different relationship. New. I started out looking for a clone of Leslie. It doesn’t take long to figure out it doesn’t work like that. With Natalie, there was a spark. She was very accomplished. Beautiful.” His lips slid into a rueful smile. “She flattered me.” He flipped his palms up. “Who knows?” he said with a shrug. He leaned back, grabbed his glass, and took a drink. “Apparently, I did marry too quickly.”

“I’m only curious because I’m struggling with the whole starting life over thing,” she told him. “Widowhood is such a limbo. Even the name is horrible. ‘Widow’—makes me think of a deadly spider. It’s been almost three years.” Saying it still gave her pause. There were days she had to think long and hard to recall what it felt like to be with Brett. On other days she still thought he was alive and expected him to walk into the room or make a comment.

“I’ve made a life for myself . . . without him. The old saying that life goes on isn’t just a cliché. Hope filled a huge hole in my heart. With her, I have purpose again.” She paused. “Being home, though, has flushed out a lot of memories that lay dormant. Little things spark a memory. They come from nowhere and catch me off guard.” She sighed. “But the pain isn’t as sharp. That means something, I suppose.”