Ladies' Night Andrews, Kay (great novels .txt) đź“–
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She was touched. “Thank you, Ben. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in a really long time.”
“See? I’m not a jerk one hundred percent of the time.”
“I know you’re not.”
“You might share that thought with Rochelle. She doesn’t have a very high opinion of me.”
“Mom? Have you talked to her recently?”
“Saw her today, as a matter of fact. After Dickie told me you’d been in an accident, I took flowers for you over to the Sandbox. She told me you weren’t there, but she wouldn’t say where you were staying. I’m guessing you’ve moved in with the new guy?”
Was that a note of jealousy she detected?
“No, I’m not living with Wyatt,” she said.
“None of my business, but are things pretty serious between the two of you?”
She couldn’t resist. “I’ll answer that if you’ll tell me what happened to J’Aimee. You said she’s gone? Did she leave before or after you accepted the new job?”
“You first,” Ben said.
“Yes, things are fairly serious between us. But his divorce isn’t final yet, either, and he has a young son, and there are complications with his ex. All that aside, he’s a great guy, and I think we have a future together. Now, you.”
“Christ,” he grumbled. “J’Aimee’s moved to California. End of story.”
“Nuh-uh, you don’t get off that easy,” Grace chided. “What’s she doing in California?”
“Auditioning for some crazy reality show she read about on the Internet. Look, Grace, I gotta go.”
“Not before you tell me what kind of a reality show,” Grace said. “You owe me at least that much, Ben.”
He mumbled something incoherent.
“What’s that?”
He mumbled again.
“I can’t make out what you’re saying, Ben.”
“It’s called Homewreckers. Got that? I came home from golf last week and she’d packed her crap and loaded up her car and announced she was going to Hollywood to get a part in a reality show about women who sleep with married men. In other words, home wreckers.”
Grace laughed so hard, she couldn’t catch her breath.
“Glad you’re amused,” Ben groused.
“Sorry,” she said, gasping for air. “Very sorry. Good-bye Ben.”
* * *
Wyatt came back and shared his key lime pie with her, and it was so good, she made him buy her a second slice. Then they got in the truck and drove up the beach. They didn’t discuss it, but Grace had a feeling she knew where they were headed.
He parked the car at Coquina Beach. “We’re still not supposed to have a dog on this beach,” Grace pointed out, nodding at Sweetie, who was perched in her lap.
Wyatt opened his door and then came around and opened hers. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”
They left their shoes on the soft carpet of pine needles and walked down to the water’s edge. Grace stood still and let her toes sink into the pale gray sand. She looked down at the warm water swirling around her ankles, at the foam frosting the waves as they lapped at the shore. A lifetime ago, she’d felt a suffocating panic, strapped into Ashleigh’s car, with the water rising around her knees. Now, with Wyatt’s hand clasped in hers, she felt as light as the gull’s feather that floated past.
She inhaled and exhaled. “This is good. This is what I needed.”
They walked for nearly an hour, until the brilliant orange sun hovered just above the tops of the Australian pines. Then they found a picnic bench and settled in to watch the show.
“I talked to Ben,” she said, with Wyatt’s arm thrown casually around her shoulders.
“Oh?”
“He’s ready to settle. I think his lawyer saw the handwriting on the wall. Anyway, it turns out he’s accepted a new job in New York. He’s moving immediately, and he wanted to know if I wanted to buy out his share of the house.”
“The mansion?”
“Whatever. There’s nothing there for me now.”
“Is the girlfriend going with him?”
“No. She’s gone to seek her fame and fortune in Hollywood. Ben didn’t sound too heartbroken about it. In fact, I think he was relieved.”
Wyatt turned to look at her. “How about you? Are you relieved? To have her out of the picture?”
She shrugged. “Funny you should ask. I find myself curiously apathetic about J’Aimee. Guess I’ve let go of the anger. I wonder what Paula would say about that.”
“I think she’d say you’ve had a growth moment,” Wyatt said, making two-fingered quote marks in the air.
“Maybe I have,” Grace mused. “I’ll have to write about that in my journal.” She reached over and laced her fingers through his. “How ’bout you? Had any growth moments of your own lately?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. A couple of them, actually.”
“Wanna share?” She kept her tone light.
“Dad and I had some long talks this week. Turns out, he’s not opposed to my selling Jungle Jerry’s to the state for a park.”
“Really? So … it’s a done deal?”
“We’re dealing with the state of Florida, Grace. Everything works at a snail’s pace with them. But it turns out they’ve got some kind of federal grant to develop what they call urban parklands. Smaller parks, under fifty acres, like ours, where the emphasis will be on community education rather than recreation. We’d keep the original gardens, get rid of the old playground equipment, and, in its place, develop demonstration gardens for heirloom Florida fruits, vegetables, and flowers. The guy with the state seems to think there’s a good chance I’d be offered the job as park superintendent, or whatever they call them these days.”
“That’s great, Wyatt!” she said, beaming. “It sounds perfect for you.”
“I know. If I had to write my dream-job description, this would be it.”
Sweetie perked up her ears and gave a low growl. They both looked up and saw an elderly man inching slowly down the beach toward them. He was shirtless and his sun-browned skin gleamed in the dying sunlight. Baggy black shorts hung from his hips to just above mahogany-colored knobby knees. Below these he wore what looked like white surgical stockings
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