“I really enjoyed rereading Pride and Prejudice,” Kayana said, shattering the pregnant pause after Leah’s passionate outburst. “Thank you, Cherie, for suggesting and leading the discussion.”
Cherie inclined her head in acknowledgment. “You’re very welcome.” She shifted her attention to Leah. “Well, Miss Lady, you’re up next. What do you recommend for our next meeting?”
“Edith Wharton’s Ethan Frome.”
Kayana rubbed her hands together. “I love it!”
Cherie nodded in agreement. “Hell, yeah! We’re going to have a field day with this one.”
“I suggested Wharton because she’s one of my favorite female writers.”
“Didn’t she write The Buccaneers?” Kayana asked. She recalled watching the miniseries on public television.
“Yes,” Leah confirmed. “It was her last novel and unfinished at the time of her death. I taught a comparative literature class comparing The Buccaneers to Pride and Prejudice, because both authors focus on women looking to marry well. Austen’s English girls want to marry wealthy titled men, while Wharton’s American girls come from wealthy families and want to marry titled, landed, but impoverished Englishmen because, despite their beauty and wealth, they’d be considered new money and shunned by Old World society. The common theme between the two novels is ambitious families seeking elevated societal status for their daughters.”
“I know we don’t have too many more meetings before we disband our book club for the end of the season, but can we read The Buccaneers after Ethan Frome and have Leah lead the discussion?” Cherie suggested.
“I would love to read the novel,” Kayana said.
Leah’s smile was dazzling. “And I’m willing to moderate the discussion.”
Kayana mentally counted how many more Sundays they had before suspending the book club until the following summer. It was the third Sunday in July, which meant they had, at best, three more meetings.
And it wasn’t the first time that she had to acknowledge that she felt a growing kinship with Leah and Cherie that she hadn’t felt with other women who weren’t family members. The exception was Mariah Hinton.
She and Mariah met in graduate school and had become study partners. Kayana took an immediate liking to the Atlanta native because of her outspoken, in-your-face personality, which she’d struggled to suppress when counseling clients. They’d role-played situations in which Kayana was the client and her friend the therapist, and subsequently evaluated their improvised counseling sessions. It was only after she videotaped the session and played it back for her that Mariah was able to view her approach to counseling a client. She then admitted she hadn’t exhibited enough empathy and made a concerted effort to change her tactics.
When she’d suggested the book club, Kayana had believed they would only talk about books, but somehow their private lives had become a part of their discussions, with Leah becoming the most forthcoming and vocal about her marriage.
Kayana did not understand why a woman whose adult children were out of the house and living independently had not left an unfaithful husband whose mother hated her. And she did not understand why Leah had resorted to using artificial devices to satisfy her sexual needs when she lived with a man who supposedly was capable of performing in their marriage bed.
The first time she’d discovered James was cheating on her, Kayana decided, no matter how long they’d been married, that it was over. Meanwhile, Leah had put up with cheating and verbal abuse for twenty-eight years in order to remain in a lifestyle she never could have imagined if she hadn’t married Judge Alan Kent. Was it because she didn’t want to give up the big house, the status as a judge’s wife, and the diamonds in her ears and on her hand? Or did she not want to give her elderly mother-in-law the satisfaction that the marriage hadn’t succeeded and she was no longer Mrs. Alan Kent.
The sun had set, and after Leah and Cherie helped her clear the table and stack the dishwasher, Kayana drove Cherie home before returning to her apartment to prepare for the next day.
Chapter 14
Graeme stroked Barley’s back as he reclined on his lap. The puppy had whined incessantly from the moment Graeme had sat down until he picked him up and settled him down to sleep. It was apparent that Kayana had spoiled his dog.
Instead of sitting on the veranda outside his bedroom, he was on the screened-in porch, which had become his favorite space to greet and end the day. The sight of new saplings, potted ferns, and rows of succulents in the fenced-in, landscaped backyard had become his private oasis.
Not seeing Kayana exacerbated a loneliness Graeme had ignored for far too long, and it could not be assuaged by interacting with Barley or totally immersing himself in his writing. She’d become a wonderful friend, sacrificing her time and energy to care for him and his pet—something she did not have to do. He’d wanted to believe she felt something for him other than friendship, because he wanted more than that from her.
Graeme wanted to be able to call her and ask her to accompany him to out-of-the-way places where they could share a meal without being recognized or interrupted. If and when she spent the night, he didn’t want her sleeping on the convertible love seat, but in his bed. And he wanted to go to bed and wake up with her beside him. He also wanted to make love with her and hold her long after their passions subsided. However, given her unorthodox work schedule, he knew what wouldn’t be possible until after Labor Day.
He had recovered from whatever he’d come down with and had regained his appetite. Kayana had restocked his refrigerator and freezer with fresh dairy and prepared entrées he only had to reheat in the oven or microwave. It had been days since they’d last spoken, and he missed hearing her voice, layered with a slow, sultry drawl he found unforgettable. She’d claimed he talked funny when he’d accused her of the same. Graeme knew he sounded like a New Englander, and a Bostonian, in particular, whenever he said certain words, but it wasn’t as apparent as Kayana’s southern drawl.
“You miss her, don’t you, buddy?” he asked the dog when Barley looked up at him. “I do too. But you have to admit that she took good care of you, even though you’re pretending you’re not spoiled,” Graeme continued with his monologue. “I suspect she let you sleep in the bed with her, but that’s not going to happen with me, Barley. The only other living thing that’s going to share my bed is a woman, not a canine or a feline. And we don’t have to wait much longer before we’re adopted, so you must be certain you behave so we don’t make Kayana regret that we’re going to become a family.” The dog stood up and turned around a couple of times before settling back down to rest his muzzle on his outstretched paws.
Graeme hoped Kayana wasn’t teasing when she’d said, “Maybe I should adopt you both.” Of course, her adopting him and Barley would be a merely symbolic gesture on her part. But the word meant so much more for Graeme. The year he’d celebrated his eighth birthday, his world as he’d known it was turned upside down. The man and woman he’d known as his mother and father were now his adopted parents—two people who’d chosen him when his birth mother made the decision not to raise him but give him away. He’d cried himself to sleep for two weeks before realizing his adopted parents had given him a life most kids could only fantasize about. They loved him unconditionally, and for a young boy, that was more than enough.
Reaching for the cellphone on the cushion beside him, he tapped Kayana’s number. It rang three times before she picked up.
“Please don’t tell me you had a relapse.”
Graeme laughed. “No such luck. If I did, then could I count on you to take care of me again, Florence Nightingale?”
“I don’t think so, sport,” she teased, “because a hard head makes for a soft behind.”
“I promise you I’ve been good. I’m eating and getting enough sleep. I also haven’t ventured outdoors except to sit on the veranda.”
“Good for you.”
“How was your book club meeting?”
“It was awes
ome. We discussed Pride and Prejudice.”
“I thought you discussed that last week.”
“It was on the agenda, but we got off topic and decided to delay it until today. By the way, do you remember everything I tell you?”
“Yes, because I don’t want you to accuse me of half-listening or ignoring you.”
Kayana’s sultry laugh came through the earpiece. “I’m not that vain, Graeme.”
He smiled. “That’s good to know. What’s your next book club title?”
“Ethan Frome. And the following week it’s another Wharton novel, The Buccaneers.”
“I’m not familiar with The Buccaneers.”
“It’s about five American heiresses who marry cash-poor Englishmen with titles.”
Graeme’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “They’re like Winston Churchill’s mother and one of Princess Diana’s ancestors, who become a part of British royalty because of their fortunes.”
“Do I detect a hint of censure, Graeme?”
“Yes, because these men didn’t love these women, but saw them as a means to an end. They used their money to save their land or pay off their gambling debts. I’ve read accounts where some of their husbands flaunted their mistresses and were unusually cruel to their American wives.”
“Once the women married, they were stuck because they’d traded their fortunes to become a lady, a duchess, or the wife of an earl or marquise. Personally, I don’t think it was worth it just to have a title.”
“I’m certain it’s still happening today,” Graeme said. “Look how many girls were fantasizing about marrying Prince Harry until their hopes were dashed when he married Meghan Markle and she became the Duchess of Sussex.”
Kayana let out a full-throated laugh. “Good for her. She succeeded where so many before her had failed.”
“And she didn’t have to give up the money she’d made acting to secure a title.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Graeme. Thankfully, things and times have changed. Today people marry whoever the hell they want, and what others may think or believe be damned.”
Graeme knew he was going to ask Kayana a question that might insult her, but he had to know if he was to further pursue her. “Would you be opposed to marrying someone outside your race?”
“No. It’s not what a person looks like, but who they are inside. In other words, it’s about character and not race. Why did you ask? Did you have a mixed-race marriage?”
“No.”
“Have you ever dated a black woman?”
He smiled. “Yes. You.”
There was a pause before Kayana said, “I suppose you can say it was a date when we went to the movies together.”
“Trust me, Kay, it was, even though I don’t believe in kissing on the first date.”
“Neither do I. Because if it doesn’t work out, then I don’t want to give my date the impression that we can do it again.”
“Are we going to do again, Kay?”
“Yes. Did you promise me we’re going to see Les Misérables?”
“I did, and I will. By that time, I know I won’t be contagious, so I’ll be able to kiss you without getting you sick.”
“Hang up, Graeme. I need to go bed and get some sleep before I have to arise with the chickens.”
Throwing back his head, he laughed loudly, startling Barley. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Barley. He’s sleeping on my lap. And you’re going to pay dearly for spoiling my dog to the point that he doesn’t want his paws to hit the floor.”
“Tell Barley Mama’s going to come and see him in a few days. I can’t believe how much I miss him.”
Graeme wanted to tell Kayana that he also missed her. “Good night, my love.”
* * *
Kayana stared at the phone until she heard a beeping sound indicating that the connection had ended. Graeme had hung up before she could react to his calling her his love. She’d found it wasn’t easy analyzing Graeme Ogden, because most times she found him guarded, as if he was attempting to hide something. When she’d first noticed him coming to the restaurant the summer before, he’d basically stayed to himself, waiting for an empty table in lieu of joining others at a table with an empty seat. He’d come in for breakfast and lunch, but never dinner. This year, his routine changed, and he’d occasionally have breakfast and always dinner. He was solitary and reclusive, which had her wondering why he’d come to Coates Island in the first place, and why he’d elected to buy property on the island. Most teachers who summered on the island tended to rent in lieu of purchasing a vacation home. First, there weren’t that many properties that were available for sale, and if someone did buy a house, chances were slim to none that they would not be able to rent it in the off-season. When she’d heard that Graeme had purchased the house and renovated it, Kayana wondered if he’d planned for a retired colleague to live in the house until he returned the following summer.
Despite not knowing much about Graeme, she knew he liked her and wanted more than friendship. What Kayana had to decide was whether she was willing to offer more than that. When she’d heard him on the phone and had hardly recognized his voice, her first reaction was to go to his house and check on him. Unconsciously, she reverted back to the time when she was in her office at the hospital and had to provide therapy or counseling services to a patient or help family members learn to deal with mental illness in the family. She’d trained herself to become attuned to changes in a person’s voice or body language.
When Graeme had answered his phone and she’d asked him if he was all right and he said he thought so, Kayana knew he was not being truthful. She found men to be her worst patients, because they feared that showing weakness meant they weren’t manly. So much for being manly when they were too sick to take care of their most basic needs. Thankfully, she hadn’t had to help Graeme shave or shower because that would have crossed the line to an intimacy she hadn’t been ready for.
Spending time at his house and talking to Graeme had opened the door to his past; he’d felt comfortable enough to talk about his marriage and his estranged wife’s death. Kayana could not imagine how he had lived with a woman for twelve years who definitely needed mental health therapy. He truly must have loved her to have stayed in the marriage, or perhaps it was pity that forced him to stay because he feared she would harm herself.
And when she compared her marriage to Graeme’s and Leah’s, Kayana considered herself fortunate that she had escaped unscathed. This is not to say she was unaffected when she’d discovered her husband had cheated on her with a woman she knew, but she realized she wasn’t the first woman to have an unfaithful husband and definitely wouldn’t be the last. In the end, she realized she loved herself more than she loved James, and she wasn’t willing to look the other way in order to maintain her status as the wife of one of the city’s leading trauma surgeons or forgive him for trampling on her trust. James had asked her to forgive him, but Kayana knew that, with his ego, he would cheat again because his father had cheated on his mother and his brothers on their wives. It was common knowledge in James’s social circle that Hudson men were cheaters, but it wasn’t something she was privy to until it happened to her. Although the phony-ass bougies treated her as if she had leprosy, Kayana knew herself and liked how she was.
She knew James was shocked when, served with divorce papers, he’d pleaded with her to talk it out with a marriage counselor. He did not want the stigma of being the first in his family to divorce, but she was beyond caring about his family’s flawless reputation. However, she did agree to change the charge of adultery to irreconcilable differences, but for a price, considering the pain and suffering he’d put her through for almost twenty years. She would let him have the house and its contents in exchange for a huge settlement.
The house was worth half of what she’d requested, and James had to take out a mortgage on the property and withdraw funds from his 401(k) to make up the balan
ce. She deposited the bank check into the retirement account Derrick had set up for her, notified her attorney she was ready to finalize the divorce, and after shipping her books and personal items to Coates Island, left Atlanta for the last time.
Whenever she thought about Graeme, she did not want to compare him to James, but it was becoming difficult not to, the more time they spent together. James was brilliant, proud, boastful, and at times shameless, while Graeme, although wealthy, was modest, intelligent, and reclusive. She wasn’t certain whether his need to spend time alone had come from his being an only child or resulted from being raised by parents who were older than those of his contemporaries. Then she recalled what he’d discovered in his mother’s diaries, which was certain to have had an impact on what he thought of her. His mother had harbored secrets, and the woman he’d married had secrets of her own. Kayana had talked to him about trust, and she wondered if Graeme also had his own trust issues.
One thing she did not have was secrets. What he saw was what he got. He knew she was divorced and did not have children, had been a social worker in her former life, liked dogs, loved to read, and enjoyed cooking. She refused to divulge family recipes or her net worth, which she did not think of as secrets but just unavailable for public consumption.
Kayana checked her phone to make certain she’d set the alarm. She was counting down the days when she would have two weeks off each month and could sit up half the night reading, then sleep in late the following day. This year, she’d contemplated taking a cruise to the Caribbean or driving to the Florida Keys to sample their cuisine and take in the sights.
* * *
Kayana had just completed her shift, showered, and changed into street clothes when her cellphone rang. Picking it up, she saw the caller’s name. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon to you too. I’m just calling to remind you that today the adoption should be finalized. Can you check on it for me?”
The Seaside Café Page 19
