The Husband Hour(14)

Lauren felt safer, more in control, behind the counter. Busyness, motion, was her friend. She filled the Plexiglas display case with the muffins delivered that morning. A woman walked in to buy a mug and a baseball hat. Two regulars showed up for takeout. Falling into her usual rhythm, she tried to forget about the man in the seat by the window.

He stopped at the counter on his way out the door.

“You were right; the French toast was amazing. Those mugs for sale?” he said.

She turned her back to him.

“Lauren, I don’t mean to upset you. But I am working on a film about your late husband, and I would really like the chance to talk to you about it.”

She whirled around.

“Forget it. Not happening. Understand?”

“I think your husband’s story is important. I think it’s worth telling.”

She glared at him.

He held up another business card and made a show of placing it on the countertop. “I hope you’ll reconsider.”

She watched him leave, then, hands shaking, tossed the card in the garbage.



Matt pulled his car onto a side street and parked. He wouldn’t let the bumpy first encounter discourage him. This was what progress looked like.

He opened the browser on his phone and checked the listing for a room rental he’d found earlier that morning. When—not if, but when—Lauren Kincaid agreed to talk to him, he needed a work space and a small crew. With his very limited funds, he was maybe putting the cart before the horse. But the room for rent looked perfect; it was on the bay side of town and had its own entrance separate from the rest of the house. And the nightly rate was better than he had hoped to find. He didn’t want to lose it.

He opened the car window and let in the smell of salt air and the squawk of seagulls. With a deep breath, he dialed Craig.

Straight to voice mail.

“Craig, it’s Matt Brio. I’ve had a breakthrough on the Rory Kincaid film. Things are moving quickly, so please give me a call when you can.”

His next call was to the number listed for the room rental. Another voice mail. And then he remembered that it was a holiday weekend and that normal people would be with their families. He had to be patient.

This is what progress looks like.





Chapter Nine



Family dinner two nights in a row was probably too much to hope for. But since it was Memorial Day weekend, Beth thought a nice barbecue wasn’t a lot to ask. Apparently, she was wrong. Stephanie was out—heavens knew where. Ethan was home, of course. Lauren was holed up in her room, and Howard was on the grill with enough hot dogs and hamburgers for a dozen people.

Beth stepped onto the deck, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Why did you get so much food?”

“I invited the Kleins and the Carters.”

There was no point asking why he hadn’t told her. They’d barely spoken all day. They couldn’t agree on a plan for the summer. They couldn’t talk about the house. They couldn’t talk about money. Thirty years into their marriage, everything was suddenly a conversational landmine. And she didn’t know how to fix it. There she was, in the middle of her life, and she had never felt less capable.

With company coming, she had to change out of her yoga pants. Her mother would have been appalled by the “athleisure” state of dressing these days. Even at the beach, her mother had greeted every day with full makeup and her hair done, wearing linen pants and a matching top.

And, really, it was the gradual but absolute slide into everyday casual that had been the undoing of their family business. Beth should have put up more personal resistance, but it was just so damn easy to be comfortable.

Beth stood on the bedroom deck and looked down at the pool. Today, Howard, happily grilling, seemed more like the man she loved and the father the girls adored and less like the adversary she’d been living with the past few months. She knew it had been difficult for him to lose the store, and not just because of the financial implications. It was his family business. He’d never considered another career because the store was his duty. It wasn’t easy; it wasn’t glamorous. But he’d shown up, day in and day out, for three decades.

If only he hadn’t gone behind her back with a second mortgage on their home!

Beth headed up the stairs to warn Lauren they were having company. As expected, Lauren was less than thrilled.

“Mom, I just feel the walls closing in on me here. Stephanie wants to stay a few weeks, and I know it’s not technically my house, but it is my home and I just can’t deal with her twenty-four/seven.”

Beth sat on the bed. This was what happened when you waited for the right time to talk: you got backed into a corner.

“Well, sweetheart, I have some good news and some bad news.”

Lauren looked at her sharply. “What is it?”

“I’m going to stay here for the summer too. I can be a buffer between you and Stephanie.”

“You and Dad are staying all summer?”

Beth hesitated. “Yes.”

“Why? You never spend the summer here. I mean, I don’t want to be a brat. It’s your house. It’s just…” She looked out the window hopelessly. “I’m used to being here alone. I need to be alone.”

Just rip the Band-Aid off, Beth told herself. “I want to spend the summer here with you because…” She paused, probably more dramatically than she should have. But really, she needed a moment. Once she said it aloud to Lauren, it would become real. “It’s our last summer with the Green Gable. We have to sell this house.”