The Beach House (31 page)

She wasn’t ready to get out. She felt coated in…gunk, black as night.

Char helped herself to coffee from the carafe in the kitchen. She spotted Jo and Molly through the window, sitting on the patio with mugs in hand.

Her throat and chest throbbed. Her heart felt like a ricocheting pinball.

Like that time in high school.

They were sixteen years old. Or rather the others were sixteen and had their driver’s licenses months ahead of her. Jo’s parents bought her a fancy car for her birthday. Like always, they provided her with the trendiest, most expensive new thing on the market. She called them guilt gifts, purchased in lieu of the time they didn’t spend with her. She should have pranced about like a spoiled princess, but she never did. Though she had the superior attitude of most brainy rich people, it wasn’t the type that caused her nose to bruise from frequent contact with the ceiling.

That September day Jo arrived at Char’s house. Molly and Andie already sat in the backseat of her sporty convertible. Char remembered seeing them as they drove up the driveway. It was a hot Saturday, ten days before Char’s birthday, and they wore shorts. They were going to the mall.

Her heart pounded. Her throat ached from wild activity in her chest.

She didn’t want to go. They didn’t really like her. They put up with her because Babette convinced them to do so and because, to put it bluntly, the cutest boys were attracted to Char. Given that their all-girls parochial school limited male attention, going to the mall was a significant event. Char’s attendance was a necessity.

But she didn’t want to stay home either. Home…such as it was.

Just a few minutes before the girls’ arrival, Char’s father had informed her he’d asked what’s-her-name to marry him. That woman in the kitchen. Her mother’s kitchen. The woman who cooked breakfast that day. The one who giggled when her father said the sunrise brought her.

Sunrise.
Pff
. Like Char didn’t have ears. The woman had spent the night.

In her mother’s room.

It hadn’t been the first time, and now she was going to
live
in it.

Heart pounding, Char stood rooted to the floor. Jo honked. Andie waved. Molly made a goofy face. Char didn’t budge.

Until she heard the woman’s laugh from somewhere in the house.

Char joined her friends. Jo backed out of the driveway. Molly asked what was wrong. Andie squeezed her shoulder.

She didn’t tell them what was wrong until they all sat in a booth at her favorite restaurant, the table piled high with gaily wrapped birthday gifts. They had planned the surprise for her. That was when she knew they weren’t just putting up with her.

The story of her dad’s betrayal spilled out. They listened. They loved her through it.

But that was twenty-four years ago and she hadn’t been the one hurting others.

Char carried her mug and went out the back door.

Behind the house, Char sipped her coffee and scanned the narrow one-way thoroughfare. No one walked along it. She stood in what should have been the backyard area but was in reality a dry patch of dirt not much bigger than her walk-in closet back home.

The area did not afford much privacy. Low fences and concrete walls divided tiny yards. Without turning she could see windows from a dozen homes, most of them tall like Julian’s. Directly across was a small one-story cottage where that vagrant had been hiding out.

Char shivered.

What an odd place. Brilliant sunshine and heat yesterday, eerily misty this morning.

She heard a noise coming from Julian’s and stepped nearer Jo’s SUV in the carport. The last person she wanted to see was the neighbor! If she slipped along the far side of the vehicle, perhaps he wouldn’t notice her.

She stole a glance toward his yard and froze.

Andie?

Touching Julian’s arm?

In a gesture of familiarity, Andie rose as if on tiptoes and leaned into him.

He leaned down toward her, his hand on her shoulder.

She kissed his cheek.

She kissed his cheek?

And he smiled.

Oh my word
.

They parted, calling out goodbyes.

Andie turned left onto the alley and spotted Char. Her smile faded as she walked toward her. A large canvas bag hung from her shoulder. She wore what she called the “spunky outfit” she’d bought yesterday, a flowing top, floral print, apricot-colored linen, and matching cropped pants. It was a perfect look for her.

“Hi,” Andie said.

“Hi.”

Andie stopped before her. “You’re up early.”

“I…am.” Char was speechless, totally unable to segue from her jumbled thoughts to greeting her dyed-in-the-wool, Miss Goody Two-shoes friend at seven in the morning as she left the neighbor’s house. The neighbor’s arms.

They stared at one other for a moment.

Finally Andie said, “It’s not what it looks like.” She finger-combed her red hair. It was damp like Char’s, as if she’d just showered. “Oh, fiddlesticks. I can’t help what it looks like. How are you today?”

“Um.” Words still failed her.

“You look like you’ve got a hangover, but I know you don’t drink.”

She shook her head.

“Fortieth birthday?”

She nodded.

“Told you so.”

Char stared in disbelief.

Andie shifted the bag from one shoulder to the other. “Well, I’m off to re-celebrate my fortieth. You’ll have to schedule a do-over for yourself in the near future. See you tomorrow.” She turned.

“Where are you going?”

Andie faced her again. “You didn’t talk to the others? I’m spending the day by myself. I guess to face my fears. Bye.” She walked away.

What in the world was going on? Andie at her spunkiest had never been abrupt, never borderline rude.

Andie twirled around and called out, “Char?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you sleep with Paul?”

Char’s eyes felt as if they might bug right out of her head. “Of course not! You’re my friend. He was always yours.”

Andie nodded once and then turned again to continue on her way.

Char watched until the mist enshrouded her friend and wondered again what in the world was going on.

Jo left Molly on the patio and went inside the house to refill her mug. Char stood at the sink filling the carafe.

“Char! It’s not even seven-thirty!” She stopped short of reminding her that she’d just gotten home a few short hours ago.

“Hmm. Morning. I’m making more coffee. I drank all yours.”

“No problem. Molly’s into tea today. I had most of the first pot to myself.”

“Hmm.”

Jo sensed something off-kilter. Char appeared dressed for the day in pale pink slacks and a white knit top. Her hair was damp. She showered already? And not dried her hair? And she didn’t say much. Even tired and grouchy, Char always bubbled over with words.

Jo said, “Are you hungry? I’m going to make toast.”

“No. Thanks.”

Jo busied herself with bread and the toaster. “I’ll bring coffee out if you want to go sit down.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Molly’s feeling like a semi ran over her.”

Char flinched.

“She ate spicy Chinese.”

“Hmm.”

“Did you have a good dinner?”

“Yes.”

Jo gathered peanut butter and jam, knives and plates, and waited for Char to expand. She didn’t.

“So,” Jo said. “Where did you eat?”

“The, um, Marine Room.”

“Ah. Nice.”

She nodded.

“Char, are you okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I was just wondering because five minutes have passed and you haven’t called me ‘sugah’ yet.”

One corner of her mouth slid inward enough for a dimple to appear. “Yesterday was…”

The toast popped up, but Jo continued gazing at Char. Something akin to panic gleamed in her friend’s eyes.

Jo said, “Let me fill in the blank. Yesterday was hazardous to your well-being.”

“You could say that.”

“Welcome to the club.”

“I had no plans of joining.”

Jo gave her a sympathetic smile.

They sat round the patio table, nibbled on toast, and engaged in stilted conversation about the weather. When Char wasn’t watching, Molly threw Jo a befuddled look. She shrugged in return. They had agreed earlier that they would not interrogate Char about her evening. Jo’s question about which restaurant she and Todd ate in was their self-imposed limit.

Char picked up her coffee cup. “Andie told me she’s spending the day alone.”

They exchanged a glance. Andie had just told them last night. When would Char have learned—

“I saw her this morning.”

“You saw her?” Jo asked.

“Leaving Julian’s. In the back. You didn’t know…?”

Jo pulled at the neck of her sweatshirt. Now she would have to tell Char as well. Suddenly she thought of yesterday and how she had lectured Char on her plans with Todd. Her face felt hot.

Jo said, “I knew. She left last night because I-I hurt her. She got angry.”

Char simply blinked.

“The thing is, after Andie’s rehearsal dinner twenty years ago, I made out with Paul in a bar.” She abridged the story. Being drunk was disqualified as an excuse. “I told her that last night.”

“Oh, my.”

“I imagine she didn’t want to spend the night in the same house with me.”

“Well, I don’t think she spent it with Julian either.”

“I saw her go into his house.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” Char’s face, so soft and Southern, hardened.

“I know. Char, I am sorry for chewing you out yesterday. I know I come across like a know-it-all, like—”

“Sugar, stop right there and think about this. If Molly or I had cornered you at that bar, literally sat between you and Paul and told you what an idiotic thing it was you were considering doing and what a louse he was anyway and hardly worth it and how sad you would make Andie, would that have changed the outcome?”