The Shadow Box(24)

The “trouble” part of Sallie’s time on Catamount Bluff came in the form of one of Griffin Chase’s twin sons. They looked nothing alike, but at first she kept forgetting which was which. After a while she figured it out—Ford was the brash one; Alexander was reserved. Also, Ford was the one who developed a big ridiculous crush on her.

In the beginning, she had thought it was semiadorable, the way he would show up to swim in the Hawkes’ pool. He would drive a half hour back to Catamount Bluff from where he housesat near the Rhode Island border and stand by the pool—shirt off, covered with coconut oil—watching her out of the corner of his eye before diving in, leaving a slick of oil on the water’s surface.

But when he’d started coming into the kitchen while she was waiting for Edward, helping himself to cold drinks from the refrigerator, reeking of coconut, Sallie began to get annoyed. He would prattle on about his sailing prowess, his college baseball batting average, the way girls were always calling and texting him, how they all seemed so young to him, without substance—he needed a woman he could really talk to.

“An older woman,” he actually said one day. “Do you mind if I text you?” he asked.

“Why do you want to?” she asked.

“I don’t know, just send you stuff I think you might appreciate. Videos and stuff.” He tried to smile. She could see he was holding back strong feelings. “I just want someone who gets it.”

“Ford, I’m not that person.”

“Maybe no one is,” he said. “Girls my age don’t. My mother bailed, and my stepmother . . .” His mouth twisted, and his eyes were full of pain.

“You’re not close to Claire?” she asked.

He snorted, as if he’d never heard anything more absurd.

Sallie felt bad for him, and she wound up giving him her card. His mother had left the boys. It was a terrible thing to do, but Sallie knew there had to be another side of the story. Dan and Griffin had caroused around when they were young, and from what Dan had said, they were lucky they’d gotten away with so much. They were both members of the Last Monday Club now, but Dan kept his distance.

He once said he felt sorry for Margot and for Claire. “Griffin is hell on women,” Dan had said. “And I wouldn’t want to be his sons. He belittles them. I hope they don’t turn out like him.” That made Sallie feel even sorrier for Ford, the way he tried to make himself sound important, indispensable to his father.

“My dad’s going to be governor,” Ford said. “I’m helping with his campaign.”

“Really,” she said.

“Yeah. Basically, I do oppo research.”

“Excuse me?”

“Opposition research. I help look into the guy who’s running against him but what a socialist. He doesn’t have a chance. My dad’s going to sail right through.”

“My husband said he’s quite a guy,” Sallie said.

“Oh yeah? He talks to you about my dad?” Ford asked.

“Yes, they had some adventures when they were young,” Sallie said, pausing. Then, “My husband tells me everything. That’s the way we are. Very close. No secrets.” She was sure that Ford had picked up on the heat between her and Edward, and she thought by talking about Dan, she would throw him off. But by the strange glint in Ford’s eye, she realized her statement had somehow set him off—maybe now he was jealous of Dan too.

She regretted giving Ford her card, because he sent texts or emails nearly every day—videos of dumb comedy sketches or his favorite bands. Tell me about the adventures that your husband and my dad had. I wanna tease him, he’d write. For the first couple of weeks she had replied just to be polite, but then she stopped. She knew her silence might hurt him, but she needed him to get the hint.

After Edward hired her to redo Elysian, she began to notice Ford showing up at the dock. True, the Chases had a sailboat and a skiff, both kept here at West Wind. Was Ford’s being at the marina a coincidence, or was he following her?

Sallie told herself she was being paranoid about Ford. Instead she focused on Edward and began wondering whether they could really have a life together—leave Dan and Sloane and become a couple. The agony of that construct was her love for her children. In her grandparents’ day, Catholics didn’t divorce. Some of her parents’ friends had split up, but fingers were always pointed, someone was always bad, a sinner, whispered about. The kids always paid the price.

If she left Dan, he would fight her for custody. Sallie could never be without her children. Gwen was such a little toughie, the way she raced her bike against all the boys in the neighborhood, could swim from one end of the beach to the other without resting. She did cartwheels and backbends and was in constant motion, all day long, until she was ready to collapse into bed after dinner.

And Charlie. Even at seven, he was still her baby. Sallie loved the way he tried to keep up with Gwen—and how Gwen let him. She took him almost everywhere. Would most big sisters do that? Maybe it would change when they got older, but for now they were an inseparable pair.

Sallie had been like that with her sister, Lydia. She still was; she and Dan had agreed that if anything ever happened to them, Lydia would be the guardian for the kids. Of course, Lydia had agreed.

It made Sallie feel horrible, to be thinking of her kids while she waited for Edward on his boat. She heard her phone buzz, and she grabbed it from her purse.