The Summer Getaway: A Novel(25)

“You think you could catch that?” Mason asked the cat. “Or is this just wishful thinking?”

The cat ignored the question. When the seagull flew away, the cat jumped onto the desk and gave Mason a headbutt. Mason turned over its tag.

“Hello, Charles II,” he said, rubbing under the cat’s chin. “Are you a mighty hunter?”

Charles II began to purr.

“I think you’re happy being taken care of. It’s a whole lot better than fighting for every meal.”

Mason knew that from personal experience. While he’d never had to hunt for his food, he’d been on a couple of tours that had been intense. Facing death on a daily basis had a way of changing a man, and not always for the better.

Like Charles, he was living a different kind of life—lately a very surreal one, in a house on a hill.

“With a strange old lady and too many damned cats.”

Charles II leaned against him and continued to purr.





eight



ROBYN STOOD IN the far bay of her four-car garage. Three dressers and a dining room table filled the space. Estate sale finds she’d bought over the last couple of years with the idea she would refinish and sell them. She’d made a nice profit that way a few times. She’d played with the idea of starting a business, only somehow she’d never gotten past the buying-a-few-pieces stage.

She’d always regretted that she hadn’t gone to college. She’d browsed the catalog online, but hadn’t ever registered, let alone taken a class.

She had a job with Mindy—a silly part-time job that was maybe sixteen hours a week. It was fun and she enjoyed it, but she wasn’t working to pay the bills or further herself or anything remotely serious. She was a complete and total failure at her life. Worse—she had no plan, and when the money Cord was paying her ran out, she had no income.

What was wrong with her? How had this happened? How had she become so directionless and pathetic?

Thirty-six hours after her enlightening, albeit painful, conversation with Jase, she was still reeling from seeing herself from his perspective. While it was easy to make him the bad guy—a title he totally deserved—she couldn’t help thinking that he wasn’t wrong. She had few salable skills and no serious job, let alone a career. She was drifting, and in six years, she was going to get an ugly financial wake-up call.

She ran her hand along the top of one of the dressers. She’d been divorced four years. Four! Why hadn’t she planned for her future? Sure, she’d needed to keep the house while Austin finished high school, but what about everything else? She could have earned her degree by now, if she’d been serious about it. She could have learned a trade. Or gotten a real job.

But she hadn’t. She’d maintained her lifestyle, lunched with her friends, baked for Austin and mourned her marriage. She’d kept her country club membership up to date, had replaced a three-year-old car because hey, that was what they always did. She’d ignored the ticking clock that was her payments from Cord, and she’d wasted four years of income.

The truth was humiliating and humbling, not to mention a little scary. What was she supposed to do now? Her skills—beyond Jase’s assessment of her parenting style—included managing the company’s books, although she’d stopped doing that six years ago, and captaining a boat. Also something she’d stopped doing six years ago.

Her stomach flipped over a couple of times. She was scared, she was angry (mostly at herself), and she was determined to get her act together. Step one of any plan was to not make a rash, impulsive decision. She knew better than to react out of fear. She had limited resources and didn’t want to waste any of them. She had to know what she was doing.

She went into her small home office. At her desk, she consciously slowed her breathing before looking at the lists she’d made. She’d brainstormed options, written down the pros and cons of each.

Selling the house was her number one priority. She knew a couple of agents through her friends at the club and had already set up an appointment with the one she liked best. Their preliminary phone call had confirmed that her best chance at getting top dollar was selling in the fall, when the snowbirds returned to Naples.

Although she would love to dump the house this second, she had to make a financially smart decision. Better to wait and end up with more money.

As for her monthly expenses, she’d already canceled her membership at the club. It was a ridiculous amount to spend, just to go to lunch with her friends. Austin didn’t use the facilities, and Harlow used her dad’s membership.

She was reviewing a few other places where she could cut her spending. As for her future—she was giving herself until the house went on the market to figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her life. She would be thoughtful and practical and smart. Seeing the truth about herself hadn’t been pleasant, but she was grateful to finally have clarity.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and saw yet another text from Jase.

I’m sorry. I messed up and I hurt you. Please talk to me and let me explain. I don’t want to lose you.

Talk to him? No, she couldn’t do that. She was too embarrassed and upset. What he’d said to her had been shocking. The things he thought about her had been awful. She would never marry a man for money, and he should know that.

She picked up her phone, then put it down as she reminded herself she wasn’t going to do anything impulsive. She needed to think her answer through and—