Dirk turned to look out the windows and nodded. “Yes, it’s lovely. That’s what that one couple said about the view from your house. That it’s beautiful and you can see forever.”
That didn’t exactly make Jen feel better, and she knew he was right. The beach house was one-of-a-kind. One that she wanted to keep.
They ordered appetizers and chatted about the fundraiser. Carrie filled them in on the plans while Dirk nodded and seemed to enjoy his fish tacos, and Carrie and Jen cleaned up every morsel of the grilled artichoke and garlic fries that they’d shared.
As the waitress cleared their empty plates, Dirk’s phone rang. He excused himself and went out on the patio to answer the call. Jen couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. He paced on the deck for a while, with an occasional glance back into the restaurant and then out to the sweeping view.
He ended the call and sat back down, his eyes trained on Jen.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, her hand to her chest. She didn’t know why, but her Spidey senses were on high alert.
“Well, I guess it depends on who’s asking.”
Jen ran her sweaty palms over her jeans. “Me. I’m asking.”
“Then I guess the answer would be no. It’s not all right. You just got a verbal offer on your house. Full price. Cash.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Jen had spent the past week intending to start packing things up at the beach house, but just hadn’t been able to. Ever since Dirk had let her know that Greg was very happy with the offer—she’d had Dirk call, as she just couldn’t do it—a dark cloud had fallen over the house. They walked Daisy, made dinner, and watched the sunset from the deck, but the joy had been sucked out of it.
“Maybe we should be making the most of it as it’ll disappear soon.” Faith had spent hours trying to cheer Jen up, but nothing was working.
They’d been collecting boxes and putting them in the studio, but they were all still empty. Any time Faith asked if she wanted help packing, all Jen could do was shake her head and take another walk around the living room.
“Hey, maybe we should look on the bright side.” Faith grabbed her laptop and sat down beside Jen. She brought up Zillow and turned to her friend.
“Look, the house is going away, but you’re going to make a ton of money. Have you even thought about what you might do with it? What about looking for another beach house? One that would be just yours.”
Jen hadn’t thought about the money at all. It was the memories that she cared about, but Faith insisted so they took a look at other houses on the peninsula.
“Sorry about that,” Faith said as she closed her computer. Even with half of the money from the house, Jen couldn’t touch anything else that was remotely like what she had.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, at least the new owners have little kids. They’ll get to grow up here, on the beach and the bay, like our kids did.”
It wasn’t exactly enough to make her okay with the sale, but Jen was, in fact, happy that another family would be enjoying what she and her kids had. That lifted her heart a little bit.
Jen’s phone rang, and she glanced over at it. Faith looked at the caller ID and held it out to Jen.
“It’s Michael.”
“Oh, thanks,” Jen said as she answered the call. He always cheered her up—he’d tried even when she’d told him about the beach house sale.
“Hi, Mom,” he said when she answered.
“Hi, Michael. It’s nice to hear from you. How are you guys?”
“Good. Very good. We were wondering if we could call in that rain check and come down for Sunday dinner. I’d like to spend some time with you, and at the house. And I’d like to talk to Joe. I have some questions. About Dad.”
“Oh?” Jen cocked her head and glanced at Faith, who was very obviously trying not to listen—not that Jen would have minded if she did.
“Yeah. We talked about it on the Fourth of July, remember?”
Jen did remember and thought it was a great idea. She just hadn’t been thinking clearly enough to plan it.
“That sounds fun. I’ll invite Joe and his mother—you’ll love Mrs. Russo. And we’ll see if Maggy can come up. And of course, Faith and Carrie will be here, too.”
“Great,” Michael said. He paused for a moment before he spoke again. “Mom, would you be willing to invite Grandpa and Uncle Greg? I’d like to see them, too.”
Jen’s first thought was, “Ugh. No.” She hadn’t forgiven either one of them yet and she really didn’t want to see them. But her son never really asked her for anything—especially like this. And maybe since he was curious about his dad, he just wanted to talk a little history. And now would be the perfect time, while the beach house was in the family.
“Why not. We’ll just have a goodbye party for the house,” she said, keeping her voice lighter than she felt. She hated to be mopey, and her kids didn’t need to see this, anyway. They’d dealt with enough already in their young lives.
“Thanks, Mom. We really appreciate it. What can we bring?”
Neither Amber nor Michael was a great cook, so she gave them their usual assignment.
“You’re on drinks. And ice.”
“Perfect,” he said. “And Mom? I just wanted to say I love you. I know this is hard, but we’ll be okay.”
“I love you, too, son. And thanks for that. See you this weekend.”
Jen set the phone down slowly on the table and glanced over at Faith.
“So we’re having a party? With Greg and your dad, too?”
Jen nodded. “Yep. A goodbye party. Might as well shake this off and change the energy up around here. Give her a good send-off to her new owners.”
“Whatever you say,” Faith said, her voice filled with reservation.
“Right. Let’s just do it. No telling if Greg will come, anyway. Let’s just enjoy the last of our time here.”
Jen crossed over to the window and leaned her head against the cool glass as the waves crashed against the shore. What was done was done, and she might as well make the best of it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The flowers on the dining room table made all the difference in the world. Jen had cut them all from Nana’s garden—all her favorites—and Faith had produced quite a lovely bouquet. They’d used one of Nana’s old pitchers for a vase, and with her favorite Limoges, the table looked spectacular. It reminded Jen of holidays past, when they were all together, and she smiled at the warm fuzzies it gave her. If they were going to say goodbye to the house, it was going to be with a bang.
Jen, Faith and Carrie had been cooking for a couple of days—well, Jen had been and Faith and Carrie had been valiant helpers. They’d made Nana’s favorites and a few new ones. Mrs. Russo was bringing her ricotta cheesecake and had promised that she would teach Jen how to make it when they had more time. Jen couldn’t wait, and had decided that her best bet to make it through all this was to allow new things to come into her life as she said goodbye to the old familiar ones.
“Looks beautiful.” Carrie nodded approvingly at the table. “Just like old times.”
“Exactly,” Jen said as she stirred the pot of chili that bubbled on the stove. “I think it’s an appropriate farewell party, don’t you?”
“Definitely.” Faith came down the stairs, arms loaded with pillows. “We have to make sure to take these with us,” she said while she set them out temporarily on the sofa and chairs.
“They’re beautiful, you guys. You’re really doing a good job. As nice as any in a store.”
Faith flashed Carrie a smile at the compliment. “Thanks. I’ve been trying. I’ve even taken some to the store, as we seem to always run out of inventory. The owner’s kind of—odd.”
“Faith, can you grab Nana’s blue bowl from the sideboard?”
Jen focused on dinner, as guests would be arriving any minute and she wanted to be able to talk to everyone. She turned down the burners and glanced around the kitchen. She nodded, untying
Nana’s apron and slipping it over her head.
“Love you, Nana,” she whispered under her breath as she hung it on the hook where it had lived for decades. It was the one thing she’d planned to pack first when the time came.
“Hi, everybody,” Carrie said as Michael, Amber, Jen’s dad and Greg all arrived together. Jen peeked through the window and down the street looking for Sylvia, but she was nowhere to be found.
They sat in the living room, and while Michael and Amber made sure everyone had their drink of choice, Jen, Faith and Carrie arranged the chips, salsa, guacamole and mini-burritos they’d made on the coffee table.
“Hello, Greg.” Jen tried to keep her voice calm as she passed by her brother.
“Hi, Jen. Good to see you,” he said as he reached for a chip. Jen mustered a smile for him, but still couldn’t get over the sacrifice he expected from her about the beach house. She’d given up trying.
Jen welcomed Joe and Mrs. Russo, oohing and ahhing over the cheesecake. It looked divine, and she told Mrs. Russo she couldn’t wait to try it.
“You’ll never look at cheesecake the same way after,” Mrs. Russo said.
Joe laughed. “She’s telling the truth, I’m afraid.” He crossed over to Michael and gave him a hearty handshake, and did the same with Jen’s brother. The smiles all around warmed her heart, and she got Mrs. Russo seated by the window. Faith brought her a Chianti and Carrie, Faith and Amber chatted with her while the men, including Jen’s dad, wandered around the living room looking at all the old family pictures.
“Is that you and my dad?” Michael asked. Joe smiled warmly, as if he had a secret in his heart.
“Yes. That’s us in our gondolier uniforms one summer. Oh, and this one is when we sailed to Catalina for the first time.”
“You sailed to Catalina? Just the two of you?” Michael asked, his smile wide.
Joe nodded somberly. “Yes. We were scared out of our minds, but we made it. There and back,” he said with a laugh. “Never did it again until we had a little bigger boat. My dad taught us how. Your dad was a great sailor.”
Michael nodded slowly. “I didn’t know that. Thank you.”
Joe wrapped his arm around Michael’s shoulders, squeezing a little, and Jen dabbed at her eye with a tissue. The boys had been so young when their father died, and they had to get right to the business of surviving. She probably should have talked more about Allen, but she just couldn’t back then. And over time, they asked less and less. She was grateful that Joe could tell them stories now that even she didn’t know.
“You’re welcome. He was my best friend, and I loved him very much. I miss him.”
Michael and Amber exchanged quick glances, and a smile spread across Amber’s face. She nodded slowly, and Michael cleared his throat.
“Well, I suppose it’s perfect timing that we’re all here, and talking about my dad. It appears that I’m going to be a dad, too, and I’m afraid I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
Jen, Carrie and Faith all gasped in unison and jumped up, rushing to hug Amber. Hearty handshakes and hugs enveloped Michael, too, and Jen finally had to reach for another tissue.
“Holy cow, Jen. You’re going to be a grandmother.” Faith wrapped her friend in a hug and held on tight. Carrie did the same and sighed deeply, her heart full and warm.
“Oh, I can’t believe it,” Jen said to Amber with a big hug, and when she looked over at Michael, she paused for a moment.
His eyes caught hers, and he crossed the room, sweeping her up in a big hug.
“Oh, Michael, I can’t wait. I’m thrilled. You’re going to be a wonderful father,” she said as she rested her palm on his cheek.
“And you’re going to be the best grandma in the world, Mom.”
Jen’s heart tugged as she glanced at her grandma’s apron, her roses, her china. She could only hope to be half as good a grandma as her own, but she was up to the challenge. New memories could be as good as old ones, she told herself, and she turned toward the room that was full of love and knew it would be true.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The ricotta cheesecake melted in Jen’s mouth, and she glanced over at Mrs. Russo with an appreciative smile. “Wow, you’re right. That’s the best I’ve ever tasted.”
Mrs. Russo nodded approval, and Joe laughed.
“It sure is delicious, Mrs. Russo,” Jen’s dad said as his fork clanked on his empty plate.
Mrs. Russo shifted in her seat and patted the bun at the back of her neck. “Thank you all. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Everyone started chattering again, looking at the scrapbooks she’d gotten out. Amber was particularly interested in the pictures of the boys when they were little—both Michael and Allen.
Jen sighed and looked toward the kitchen when the phone rang.
Dirk’s name popped on the screen, and she figured she should answer. There were only a few more days during the inspection period, and he probably needed something done.
“Excuse me, everybody.” She grabbed her phone and headed out onto the deck.
“Hi, Dirk,” she said.
He responded with a hello that gave her pause. He’d been helpful and supportive, and she actually did like him. He didn’t sound quite right now, though.
“You sitting down?”
She hesitated and looked around, her heart beating faster. “No. Should I be?”
She thought she heard him sigh. “Yeah, probably.”
He plopped down on one of the deckchairs. “Jen, I have some news.”
“Good or bad?” she asked.
He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Same answer as last time. Depends on who’s asking. But since it’s you, I’ll go ahead and say it’s not news that I think you’ll be happy about, I’m afraid.”
She gripped the phone more tightly and waited. “Okay, shoot,” she finally said.
He sighed again, and she held her breath. “I just got a call from the buyers. The inspection report came in with some very, very expensive repairs. New roof, some new flooring, drywall problems.”
“None of that is news to me,” she said. “Those are all things I’d planned to tackle. But we listed the house as-is, so it shouldn’t be a financial issue, should it?”
Dirk cleared his throat. “No, no, that’s not it. They knew there wouldn’t be any money for repairs.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”
“It might be under normal circumstances. Happens all the time in Newport. But when it does, people just tear the whole thing down. Start over. Build a new house.”
Jen blinked fast several times, not sure what he was saying.
“What?”
“I’m sure you’ve seen all the new construction around you. There aren’t many of the old original houses left. People buy them for tear-downs and start over. Surely you’ve seen some.”
She stood and paced the deck, looking down the street. She could count at least five new houses being built where there were once smaller, quaint houses like her grandma’s.
“Yes, I have, but surely nobody would want to do that to our place. I mean this house. They can’t tear it down.”
Dirk’s voice softened. “I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case, Jen, but it is. I just wanted to let you know. Now, I mean, during the inspection period when you could still back out. In another few days, it’ll be too late. Signed, sealed and delivered.”
She sat back down hard on the deck chair.
“I’m sorry, Jen. I really am. Let me know if I can help in any way.”
“Thank you,” she whispered before she ended the call. “I will.”
Jen’s mind was a blur, and she could barely catch her breath. She looked out over the courtyard, at Daisy lolling on the small patch that she’d claimed, at her grandmother’s roses, at the paddle boards leaning against the garage. Then farther out to the harbor and in the other direction toward the beach. She leaned back and closed her eyes. The warm, salty air didn’t reach to her b
ones this time, and all she felt was cold. Cold and empty.
“Jen? You out here?”
Jen took a deep breath at the sound of her brother’s voice. Tearing down the house? That was something that had never, ever crossed her mind as a possibility. And now it was a reality.
She didn’t want to talk to her brother or even see him—this was all his fault, after all.
“Yep, on the deck,” she replied, leaning against the railing. The herons were making quite a fuss, and the babies they’d been watching grow all summer were learning to fly.
“What the heck is that?” Greg leaned on the railing next to Jen and pointed toward the palm tree.
Just as Jen opened her mouth to reply, one of the babies—very big now—took flight and headed down to the beach.
Greg whistled, and Jen handed him the binoculars. “Wow. That’s really something. We never saw that when we were growing up.”
“No, we didn’t. We were lucky to watch them this summer.”
Greg watched the blue herons for a little bit, then set the binoculars back on the railing. He leaned forward and down to Nana’s garden. “She loved those roses, didn’t she?”
Jen noticed that Mrs. Grover’s curtain was twitching again, and Greg noticed it, too.
He pointed toward the neighbor’s house and laughed. “Looks like some things never change.”
“Until everything does,” Jen said quietly. She couldn’t help herself. Not only were they leaving, but the house they’d grown up loving wouldn’t even exist soon.
Greg quickly glanced in her direction, a pained look on his face. “Jen, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Dirk. I never expected that the house would be torn down. I thought some other young, happy family would own it. Make their own memories.”
Jen squared her shoulders. She hadn’t had the chance to tell her brother what she really thought, and she wasn’t going to waste it now.
“Not only will no family get to live in this house, but my grandchild won’t. Not ever. You have a beach house in Del Mar. This is all I have.”
Newport Harbor House Page 13
