The Husband Hour(78)

Howard had completely missed it. It wasn’t like him. Howard thought he was being practical and strategic during the store crisis, but the truth was, the loss of the family business was more than just a financial blow. It was an emotional one, and that’s why he made big mistakes in the end. Why he was still making a big mistake.

“Mom? Why are you standing here in the dark?”

Beth looked up, startled. Had Lauren been home after all?

“Did you just get home?”

“Yeah. I was…out. I thought you were staying in Philly overnight.”

Beth explained it wasn’t worth it; she wanted to wake up in her own bed. She didn’t bother telling her about the store and the sublease. It was clear from the distracted look on Lauren’s face that there were more important things to discuss.

“Are you okay?” Beth asked gently. There had been a time when Lauren was as transparent as a glass of water. But she had closed herself off after her marriage, and even more after Rory’s death.

“I’m just confused,” Lauren said, but in a way that was surprisingly light. In that moment, Beth noticed that there was a brightness about her, an energy that she hadn’t seen in her in a long time.

“About what?”

Lauren opened the fridge, then closed it. She leaned against the counter facing Beth.

“My life. What it’s supposed to be now. Who I’m supposed to be now.”

Beth nodded. She’d been waiting for years for her daughter to come to her. She wondered if her sense of being pulled back to the shore that night had less to do with the need to sleep under her own roof and more with the universe making sure she was in the right place for this conversation.

She put down her wineglass. “Your relationship with Rory was a major part of your life. But your life is going to continue past that point. It already has, whether you realize it or not. You need to stop fighting so hard against it.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t? Lauren, I know you’re trying to do the right thing, to be strong. But it’s like that fable, the oak and the reed? Remember from when you were little?”

“I don’t know. Vaguely.”

“Okay, I might not be getting this exactly right. But the oak tree always seemed so strong because it never bent in the breeze, while the reeds swayed with the wind. But when the huge storm came and the oak tree couldn’t bend, it broke.”

“The reeds were fine, I take it?”

“Come on. I’m serious.”

“So what are you saying? I’m being weak?”

“No,” Beth said. “But I do think the storm has come. And I don’t want you to break.”





Chapter Forty-One



It was a mistake.

Matt woke up thinking about the kiss, and for a brief moment of self-delusion he told himself it was a dream, it was the alcohol, it was too much time in front of the computer screen—anything but reality.

A mistake, but not fatal. He would see her at some point during the day, act like nothing had happened. No, he would apologize—again. And then get back to business as usual. He wanted to see those newspaper articles and yearbooks.

But he couldn’t stop remembering the way it felt. There was a strange relief to it, as if he’d been thinking about kissing her for weeks. He’d come to care for her—a complete mistake from a professional standpoint.

All in all, the transgression had lasted, what, twenty seconds? The shocking part—the reason it hadn’t been even more brief—was the way she’d responded to him. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. Until it wasn’t, and she freaked out.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she’d said, pulling back, her hand covering her mouth.

“Sorry!” he said. “My bad. And, hey—I guess that pink cocktail must be stronger than it looks.” His attempt to lighten the mood failed. She became silent.

When he dropped her off at her house, he said, “Lauren, please don’t be upset. It’s as good as forgotten, okay?”

She shook her head, as if they had been debating something. “It’s not your fault.”

And then she got out of the car without another glance at him. He felt like a total jerk.

He’d spent too much time in that town. It was fucking up his head. The first red flag had been his mixed feelings about interviewing Stephanie last night and not letting Lauren know. It was absurd, of course; he didn’t have to report everything to Lauren—anything to Lauren. But he was uncomfortable knowing the truth about Rory and her sister.

Then he realized that he hadn’t saved Stephanie’s interview from the drive to his laptop. Usually, he did the transfer immediately following the interview, but Lauren had left him a voice mail while Stephanie was there. As soon as she’d left, he listened and then ran right over to see her. The night unfolded from there. When he got back to his room after the kiss debacle, file management had been the last thing on his mind.

He downloaded the interview, labeled the chip Stephanie #2, and tucked it into the drive folder on his desk. He was meticulous about keeping two sets of every interview, one on his hard drive and the physical chip in the folder. Every filmmaker he knew had horror stories about corrupted drives and lost laptops.

His phone rang. Craig.