Unexpected Arrivals(40)
“Your opinion.”
“I think pain comes at the end of someone’s life when they realize all they regret and have run out of time to make amends, to tell someone how special they are, have a picnic in the park. All the things we never have room for in our lives because we’re so busy are the very things we wish we’d taken the time to do.”
I hadn’t known Pappy all that well, and had only met him a handful of times, but Dottie had changed when she lost her husband. He was wealthy and powerful, the kind of guy who valued his public image—and he’d had a big one to maintain—yet she was the apple of his eye. And I assumed, because I didn’t want to ask, that she missed doing those things with him and had ended up burying a mountain of regret. The stories she told of the places they’d been sounded like a fairy tale—however, as I got older, I realized jet-setting left little time for walks on the beach. And every choice brought a sacrifice.
“Your mother never lived with regret. She made sure to do everything that interested her, she apologized freely, loved passionately, and never held a grudge, and in the end, not taking a single day for granted left her with no remorse, and certainly no guilt. So to answer your question, no—I don’t think Janie is in any pain. And now that you’re settled here, I believe she’s ready to let go.”
My phone vibrated on the table next to me with a text from Carp. I sensed Dottie watching me as I read his message, inviting me to lunch.
“A smile looks good on your lips.”
“Do you know where Galen’s is?” I hoped she didn’t ask a lot of questions. I didn’t have any answers, and nothing other than friendship would ever come of this.
Her brows arched, though she didn’t pry. “It’s just a few blocks from here. I can drop you off.”
I stood and took my untouched coffee cup with me. “No, thanks. I’m going to shower and get dressed. Can you give me directions before I leave?”
She stared up at me from the Adirondack chair she lounged in. “Of course.”
“Thanks, Dottie.” I kissed the top of her soft-gray hair, and then went inside.
***
Carp looked different in the warmth of the mid-day sun than he had at night, and even more so without the stress that had marred his features at his parents’ house. The tension that pinched his brow was gone, and the cargo shorts and Tar Heels shirt suited him better than the slacks and tie.
“Hey.” He met me at the door with a smile.
“Hey, yourself.” I doubted I’d ever even talk to this man again, yet for the next hour, I got to pretend like things were normal and enjoy a meal and conversation. If that meant hiding from the weight of reality, then so be it.
“Have you ever eaten here?” Carp’s enthusiasm was endearing. His attention shifted briefly to the hostess. “Hey, Nina. Two please.”
“No, but it seems you have.”
“They have the best shepherd’s pie in the country, and I think I’ve tried them all. Well, maybe not all but enough to confirm that this is top notch.”
We followed Nina to a booth in the back. The tiny restaurant felt more like a pub, except where the lights are dimmed in a bar, the restaurant bathed in sunshine from the front windows. It was a good thing I didn’t come for the ambiance, because the wooden booths with green pleather upholstery reminded me of leprechauns and seemed kind of cliché.
After sliding in, Carp turned to Nina and asked her to give us a few minutes. The menu consisted of a single page of comfort food no one should eat on a humid summer’s day in Florida. I kept it simple and went with Carp’s selection accompanied by a glass of ice water.
He handed the menus back to Nina before returning his attention to me. “It won’t disappoint.”
“So how long are you in town?” I really hoped we were able to find a groove like we had post sex on the beach. Sitting here staring at each other in uncomfortable silence for sixty-plus minutes didn’t appeal to me.
“Probably leaving Wednesday—although, that depends on what my dad springs on me in his office tomorrow morning.”
“Do you guys work together?” They lived in different states, but with the money in this town, there could be multiple locations in a family business.
“Nah. We don’t really even speak to each other.” He rolled the edge of a paper napkin between his fingers. “I left Geneva Key after high school, went to college and have only been back a handful of times since.”
“Is it that bad here?” There was a hint of laughter at the end of my question. Thus far, I hadn’t encountered anything that would make someone leave the state without looking back.
Carp’s pale-blue eyes peered through his dark lashes before he actually raised his head and stopped fidgeting. “No, probably not. But I grew up here, and while I have great memories with friends, none of those people live here anymore. And visiting my childhood home doesn’t remind me of joyous family Christmases past or playing in my fort in the backyard as a kid.”
“What memories does it bring back?” I couldn’t fathom not loving where I’d grown up, the physical place. That was the single hardest thing about leaving Chicago—my home, the one I’d lived in since the day I was born, would belong to someone else.
“Homework in the afternoons with nannies, meals alone at an enormous dining room table, and running in to show my mom something I’d done at school, only to find she’d left the country with my dad for another business trip.”