The Husband Hour(19)

“Careful, hon. I don’t know what’s in there. Could be fragile. Here, come stand next to Gran and help me organize. Let’s get all of these boxes into three sections: stuff to throw away, stuff to give away, and stuff to keep.”

He jumped off the box and scurried next to her. Truly, he was adorable. It amazed her how boy energy was so different from girl energy. After raising two daughters, she loved having a grandson.

“How do you know what to throw out?” he asked.

“That’s a good question, and that’s where you come in. I’m going to open all of the boxes—don’t touch this, it’s very sharp,” she said, holding up the straight-edged razor, “and we’re going to check what’s inside. Then I’ll figure it out.”

“You’re going to open all of them?” His big eyes widened.

She nodded. Fortunately, most were labeled. But it was times like these that she wished she had a sibling to share the load. Her girls were so lucky that they had each other, and they failed to appreciate that. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why or how their relationship had gone off the rails. Her husband criticized her for letting Stephanie get away with so much, but on this issue she did not give her older daughter a free pass; the problems between the girls seemed to begin with Stephanie.

Beth sighed, bending to read the faded ink on the side of a box. She was surprised to find her own handwriting. She herself had contributed to this mess? Beth/baking/job, she read.

So that’s where they were! After turning the Philly house upside down, after literally crying because she’d thought her old baking supplies had gotten lost or thrown away. She sliced through the tape, pulling aside the wings of the box.

“Wait, Grandma, let me help,” Ethan said, reaching for the tail of the severed tape. “What is this stuff?”

He pulled out a cake-decorating turntable.

“I used to bake a lot for my job. We did big, fancy parties. That’s for icing a cake.”

Ethan peered into the box—the pyramid-tiered cake stands, icing gun, and cutting wheel—with obvious delight.

“You made cakes with this stuff?”

She nodded and dug deeper into the box, then squealed with joy when her fingers felt the corners of a book.

“Oh, Ethan—I’ll be able to show you. This is an album I kept of all the beautiful affairs I worked on. Weddings and graduations and baby showers. Wait until you see some of these desserts.”

“There you are!” Stephanie called from the attic doorway. She looked too dressed up for a day at the beach in her tight white jeans and turquoise tunic.

Stephanie stepped over a box and stalked over to them. “What are you doing with him in this dusty attic? It’s gorgeous outside.”

Beth felt like snapping, Well, someone has to pay attention to your son. Instead, she replied calmly, “Ethan’s helping me with a little project. Right, Ethan?”

He grinned. God, she could eat him up.

“Okay, well, Dad sent me to get you. He’s ready to go.”

Beth had almost forgotten they had to drive back to Philly for the afternoon. Unpleasant legal loose ends, papers needed signing. Everywhere she turned, disarray.

“Your father really could do this without me.”

“No, you should go,” Stephanie said urgently. Beth had a flashback to Stephanie as a teenager rushing them out the door so she could have the house free for a forbidden party. Fortunately, there was hardly any more trouble Stephanie could get into.

“Relax, I’m going,” Beth said. “Hon, take him to the beach. It is beautiful out. Do something nice today.”

“Don’t worry about us, Mom,” said Stephanie. “I’ve got it covered.”



Matt pulled into the sleepy cul-de-sac just before noon, the sound of the ocean greeting him through the open car windows. He’d been surprised when Stephanie suggested they shoot at her house but didn’t hesitate to say yes.

His DP and sound guy parked directly behind him.

“Not too shabby,” said Paul Garrett, his soundman, a native of Cherry Hill, New Jersey, who’d been recommended to Matt by a tech on The Disappearing Sea.

It was a beautiful house, as nice as any of the homes Matt had visited in East Hampton over the years. He’d always had an idea that the Jersey Shore was on a lower rung of the summer-home ladder than the New York beach towns. Maybe it was less desirable geographically, but there was an undeniable charm to Absecon Island.

“Let’s do it,” Matt said, leading the way up the front walk. He pointed to a faded sign: THE GREEN GABLE. “Get a shot of that,” he said to his camera guy, a local named Derek.

Stephanie greeted them at the front door. Matt noted her bright blue shirt, thinking it would read well on camera.

“Hey, you guys. Come on in. I thought maybe we could talk in the kitchen?”

Matt and his small crew followed her into a spacious, sun-filled room that wouldn’t work for filming—too much natural light.

“Would you mind showing us around so we can choose the optimal spot?” Matt said. “We have to factor in a lot of things for shooting.”

They moved on to the living room. The space had a casual elegance with a few eclectic design touches. He admired a stack of vintage suitcases.

Matt looked to Derek, who held out his phone. He had an app that let him test the light and also calculate when it would shift.