The Beach House

by Sally John

  Molly replied, “Uh, whenever.”

  “The title sums it up. I won’t bore you with details. And you don’t need to apologize. Candid observations always were our stock in trade. They kept us honest and close to each other. We’ve been away from them for a while, so maybe we’re out of practice.”

  “Well!” The word exploded from Andie. She stood, her face as red as her hair, and thrust the pillow behind her onto the couch. “I have a candid observation or two! I don’t look better, Char! I’m fat!” Her voice rose octaves higher than normal, which put it into the range of shrill. “Paul hates me! My sons won’t even notice I’m gone! And I don’t think I want to go home again!” She burst into tears, hurried around the couch, and fled from the room.

  Molly exchanged surprised looks with Char and Jo. “Maybe her spunk isn’t quite gone.”

  As one they rose and went after Andie.

  Nine

  Face mashed against the pillow, engulfed with uncontrollable sobs, Andie heard a familiar inner voice calmly assess a laundry dilemma her tears were creating. The mascara should come out of the crocheted lace edging if you soak it immediately in a mild solution of bleach and detergent.

  But what if there was no bleach in the house? Not everyone stocked bleach these days. Spot remover might not be—

  A new wave of tears gushed. A sob wracked her chest and bubbled in her throat. It drowned the voice of reason that never failed to keep her on task.

  Gentle hands caressed her back. They were Char’s, so much like those of Andie’s own petite grandmother. She didn’t know whether to give in to the comfort or to flinch. The essence of Grandmère Babette had been playing hide-and-seek since she arrived in San Diego. It was there in the cottage and in the conversations with her friends.

  The sobs lessened. She rolled onto her side and saw three blurred faces hovering. “I am so sorry,” she hiccupped.

  “Now, sugar, why is that?” Char, sitting beside her on the bed, shifted her weight. “This is what friends are for, to let our hair down together and fall apart if need be.”

  Molly handed her a tissue. “I think we’ve cried as a group for most of our lives.”

  Jo said, “Definitely. As a matter of fact, I think I stopped crying about twelve years ago.”

  For a long moment, Andie stared at her, as did Char and Molly.

  Char broke the silence. “Oh, Jo, honey, that can’t be true.”

  “Well, yes, Char, it can. Which might explain why I wanted us all together again. I felt a need to reconnect with…” She shrugged. “Something in myself? I’m not sure. All I know is I was down to two choices: call you or buy a bottle of vodka.”

  A tear slid sideways down Andie’s temple. She remembered the times they had all cried together at college because of Jo’s drinking.

  Jo cocked her head. “Andie, it’s okay. I called you and you came. Now what can we do for you?”

  She basked in the loving concern emanating from all of them. At least Jo had not repeated Andie’s earlier confession of fear. She could save some face in front of Char and Molly.

  But…wasn’t saving face a fear of exposing her true self? Wasn’t that what she wanted to avoid? Besides, Molly knew. Her observation that she’d lost her spunk was on target.

  Andie pushed herself to a sitting position. “I want my spunk back.”

  Molly smiled. “I’d say you just took the first step. What would your spunk say is the next one?”

  The answer came without a conscious thought. “To admit my fears. What I said out there, it’s true. I am overweight. Fat. And you can agree, Char. It won’t hurt my feelings. I eat for comfort. It helps me not think how afraid I am of everything. Like of losing Paul, or of the boys growing up. Jadon’s off to college next year already. And I’m afraid of being here.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know where to start. Would you pray, Molly?”

  “Of course. Dear Father—”

  Char cleared her throat, a faintly disapproving sound. “Hon, I don’t think she meant right this very moment.”

  Andie said, “I didn’t.” She caught Molly’s gentle expression and smiled. “But why not?”

  Molly said, “I don’t mind praying here and now. If you’re not comfortable, Char, you could just excuse us.”

  “Why would I be uncomfortable? Go ahead.” She folded her hands and bowed her head.

  Molly closed her eyes and started again. “Dear Father, thank You for this reunion…”

  Andie felt the words fall about her like a soft mist, unobtrusive, cleansing. Molly’s tone addressed an intimate, all-powerful friend.

  “Jesus said to bring all our requests to You. I ask that You would remove Andie’s fears, unearth their roots, and expose them for what they are. Plant faith in their place and give her the courage to say more often, ‘Why not?’”

  Andie looked up to see Molly smiling at her.

  She gave Andie a thumbs-up. “Amen.”

  “Amen.”

  And to think Molly had scared her in the past.

  Grateful that the others did not tuck her into bed with the admonition she’d feel better in the morning, Andie washed her face and rejoined them in front of the fire. She had been awake for nearly twenty-one hours, but the emotional outburst seemed to have energized her.

  Char poured her another cup of tea. “We were just discussing a schedule.”

  Thank goodness they weren’t discussing how soon they should put her on a plane back to Madison.

  “You know,” Char went on, “this place is an absolute gold mine for shopping. We’re within easy driving distance of Tijuana and Rodeo Drive. Can you believe that? The trick will be in choosing just one. A week isn’t long enough!”

  Jo said, “We thought we’d all add a suggestion to the list. What do you want to do while you’re here, Andie?”

  “Oh, whatever.” She noticed Molly’s tender expression and took courage. “Let me rephrase that. I mean ‘whatever’ in a positive sense. As in I’d like to do everything.”

  Molly smiled. “As in ‘why not?’”

  “Exactly.” She turned to Char. “We have to celebrate your birthday on Friday. That should be your day to be pampered.”

  Jo said, “I agree. I’ll even drive us to Mexico or L.A. just so you don’t have the kind of fortieth I had.”

  Molly and Char mirrored Andie’s questioning glance.

  Jo blew out a short breath. “I attended a sixteen-year-old girl’s funeral, went through boxes of memorabilia, and thought long and hard about the vodka.” She looked at Andie. “What did you do?”

  “We went out for dinner with friends.” She bit her lip. “That’s not exactly true. We went out three days before my birthday with Paul’s associates and their wives for something or other and he mentioned my fortieth was coming up, so they toasted me. On my birthday my mother called. And that was it. Paul remembered the day after. We had pizza with the boys.”

  Char clicked her tongue. “Molly, hon, please tell us a happier tale about your day.”

  “Well, Scott remembered. He and the kids served me breakfast in bed. Halfway through, one of the church members called needing to see him and the kids left for school. I cleaned a major mess in the kitchen. Then I found Scott at the church and told him I was done pretending life was A-OK. Needless to say, I ruined his day as well as my own. So.” She held her palms up. “Friday is your day, Char. All I can say is beware. Turning forty can be hazardous to your health.”

  Ten

  “As I live and breathe,” Char purred into the cell phone, “it’s true! We were all scrunched together in this teensy-weensy bedroom and Molly prayed like God Himself would bother to squeeze in there between us in order to hear about how Andie feels out of sorts.”

  A chuckle filled the earpiece. It was an Andy Williams sort of chuckle. Easy listening. As if the old singer had just crooned his rendition of “Moon River” and, after the last note faded away, enjoyed a little laugh in utter disbelief that millions of people adored
the sappy tune.

  The chuckle did not belong to anyone famous, only to Todd Brooks, friend, neighbor, and most nonsappy person on the face of the earth. He was a better confidant than her girlfriend Kendra because, unlike her, he was a night owl and therefore available at two AM central time.

  “Charlaine,” he said, “I had no idea your week in Southern California would be spent in a humble cottage with a group of Jesus freaks.”

  “Nor did I!” She laughed and leaned against the seawall just beyond a circle of yellow light cast by one of the lamps dotting the boardwalk. The beach rental sat within shouting distance. Despite the hour, occasional walkers strolled past, night owls like herself, enticed outside by mild weather and the soothing cadence of the waves. She felt perfectly safe, part of a community.

  “Actually,” she went on, “only Molly would fall under the Holy Roller category. Which makes sense, considering she’s a pastor’s wife, nonliturgical and even nondenominational, I believe. Jo may be drinking. She’s asleep already. And Andie—poor Andie! No wonder she feels out of sorts. Married to that hunk Paul Sinclair and looking exactly the way her mother always did: chunky and ten years older than her age.”

  “Maybe Paul the hunk is now Paul the chunk.”

  “No way. He would never let himself go.”

  Todd chuckled again. “Charlaine Wilcox.”

  The sound of his soft voice pronouncing her name like that always tickled her ears and sent a flutter into her throat and down into her stomach. She imagined the flicker in his chocolate brown eyes as they reflected the computer monitor light. His glasses would dangle from his fingers. His jawline would be shadowy, in need of a shave.

  He said, “How can you be so sure?”

  “Intuition.”

  “Ahh. That is your forte.”

  “Well, also there was the recent family photo she brought along.” Char smiled at his laughter. “Which only proved what I had already intuited! I’m sure by Andie not taking care of herself she has pushed him away. She used to be so pretty and certain of herself. I just do not understand what happens to some women after they marry.”

  “Maybe Paul’s the culprit. You know what cads we men are. Not there for you in the way you expect us to be.”

  “Now, Todd, sugar, don’t you go beating yourself up all over again. She left you because she was foolish.” Char referred to his ex-wife, who had divorced him nine months ago, declaring that after fifteen years she no longer loved him. “What woman wouldn’t give her eyeteeth to be the wife of a successful software designer who bakes a mean chocolate chip cookie and attends PTA meetings? Whose kids adore him? Who is kind and considerate, not to mention good-looking? As a matter of fact, some would even say the best-looking guy on the block.”

  “Now you’re getting carried away.”

  “It’s true!” She emphasized her words, teasing him out of the gloom that settled about him at times. He had probably talked with his ex that day. “We voted last week, Laura, Maci, Sondra, and I. You won, hands down.”

  “I’m sure you did not, but thank you for the encouragement.”

  “My pleasure, Todd. Well, I should get back inside. My roommates will be worried.”

  “Good talking with you, Char.”

  “Back at you. Toodle-oo.”

  “See you.”

  Char folded up the phone and crossed her arms. Conversing with Todd never failed to make her feel somehow more womanly. Even if she and the other neighbors hadn’t actually voted, everyone agreed he was the best-looking guy on the block, probably within several square blocks. But more than that, he was just downright fun. Outspoken and impertinent, yet outlandishly good-hearted. He connected with her in ways she wasn’t sure her husband ever had. When Todd announced that his wife wanted a divorce, Char wailed on the spot. Her tears were misinterpreted as empathetic when in reality she was sickened at the thought of him moving. What would she do without him right next door?

  In the end he got the house and remained her neighbor. Most of the time he had his two children as well. When he was in town, he worked from home, a situation that made him more available to their daily needs than did his ex’s career schedule.

  And so life went on. The fact that Todd Brooks was—technically speaking—free and clear did not really change things. After all, Char—technically speaking—was not free and clear. Their friendship remained more platonic than flirty and, aside from midnight calls, in the open.

  But there were moments when she wanted to gobble him right up in a most unladylike manner.

  “Evening, Char.”

  She jerked to attention and saw the neighbor approaching. “Julian! Hi there!”

  “I startled you. I’m sorry.” He stopped in front of her. “I thought you were looking right at me.”

  “I probably was.” She laughed. “But my mind was a million miles away.”

  “Cell phones have that effect.” He glanced at the phone in her hand. “I hope everything is all right?”

  “What?”

  “It’s so late. When I noticed you talking, I thought something might be wrong.”

  “Oh. No. Everything is fine. Just fine.” Fine with Todd. Fine with Savannah, whom she’d phoned first. “My daughter forgot to call me after her volleyball game.” Forgot or deliberately chose not to? “And I forgot to call earlier this evening. I tell you, I feel like I’m in three different worlds, and it’s wreaking havoc on my cognitive skills. I’m there in Chicago with my family. I’m here in a time zone two hours behind myself. Then there’s all the reminiscing with my old friends, which puts me right back in high school! Whew! I’m not sure if I should comb my watch or wind my hair.”

  He chuckled. “Did her team win the volleyball game?”

  “Yes. And guess who scored the winning point with a perfect spike?”

  “Your daughter.”

  “Of course. Ha! Aren’t I the nauseatingly proud mama!”

  “As you should be.”

  “Do you have children?”

  “They’re grown and live in the East.”

  “Just you and your wife live here then?”

  “I’m single.”

  “So is Jo! The tall, slender, lighter brown-haired one. She’s a doctor in Del Mar.”

  “Ahh. And you are the shorter, married one from Chicago.”

  “Yes. Cam is a dentist. We’ve been married seventeen years.”

  “That’s a long time nowadays, isn’t it? And to think you still have middle-of-the-night, long-distant tête-à-têtes. I am encouraged. Romance lives.”

  “Tête-à-têtes!” As if by spontaneous combustion, she felt her hair roots burst aflame. “In the first place, I was not talking to Cam. He’s never awake at this hour. He didn’t even leave a message on my voice mail. He doesn’t talk on the phone unless there’s an emergency with a patient.” Why the overwhelming urge to explain details to this man? “I was talking with my neighbor, and it was by no means a tête-à-tête! Goodness, we’re just friends. He’s just gone through a horrible divorce. Our sons are friends. They were all at the game. Sorry to disappoint you, but as far as my experience goes, romance after seventeen years is pie in the sky.”

  “I’m sure there’s hope. Cam isn’t dead, is he?”

  “Close enough. Professionally he goes by his initials, C.P. They stand for Camden Pierce Wilcox the Third or Couch Potato. Take your pick.” Oh, her tongue was in waggle mode!

  “Have courage, Char. Even couch potatoes breathe. Do you know what I see when I look at you? An attractive, delightful blonde with an irresistible zest for life. Somewhere in old Cam’s heart lingers a yearning to have a tête-à-tête with you.”

  No response came to her tongue, she was in that much of a tizzy.

  He tilted his head in a gentlemanly nod. “Just a little neighborly encouragement. Goodnight. Sleep well.” With that he sauntered away.

  Of all the…! Cam had a yearning? Julian thought her irresistible? Was that supposed to be a compliment? More likely he
meant it was her fault Cam didn’t reveal his heart. If only she tried hard enough, she could coax that yearning right out of him.

  Yeah, right.

  Julian didn’t know the first thing about Cam. Any yearning her husband might have possessed died some time ago. He had earned his moniker all by himself: Couch Potato. Oval-shaped and lifeless.

  Forget Julian. She’d better warn Jo to stay clear of the meddling fool.

  Eleven

  Andie sat in the living room with Molly, watching the embers glow, reluctant to end the evening. She was feeling like that bold mouse again, the one who’d seen the cat make its exit. Not only had the corner been rounded, several steps had been taken away from the wall. It was time to explore, not sleep.

  Besides that, Char was outside, alone in the dark. Molly had revealed bumpy times with Scott. And Jo slept in one of the bedrooms, hopefully the result of exhaustion and not alcohol.

  “Andie,” Molly said, breaking the quiet. “I hate to ask you to work on your vacation, but I would love a reflexology treatment from you. Do you think we could fit one in?”

  “Oh, Molly, of course! I meant to offer that to all of you. It just slipped my mind.”

  “I still miss Grandmère Babette working on my feet. It balanced me somehow. If old lady hormones are like adolescent ones, maybe you can get me off this teeter-totter. At least for the week.” She smiled. “I can’t find a reflexologist in Port Dunmore.”

  “It’s not exactly a well-known practice.”

  The door opened and Char breezed inside, her cheeks flushed.

  “Thank goodness.” Andie exhaled in relief. “I was worried.”

  Char shook a finger. “Now, now, Andrea, honey. We are grown women. Promise you will not worry about me every time I step outside this door.”

  “I guess it’s just a mother’s habit.” Not to mention other things, like it being after midnight in a strange city with every manner of weirdo scarcely three steps the other side of their patio. Who knew? Maybe those people were on their patio right now.