Family Reunion Nancy Thayer (summer reads .txt) 📖

Lawrence River and back. And, drumroll, please, Alicia has met a man.”

Eleanor pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down in it. “What on earth do you mean?”

“It means there is a group of professors traveling with us and one of them has become a good friend of Alicia’s.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Cliff laughed heartily, sounding much like his father had. “I’ll text you photos. I’m texting them to Phillip, too.”

“What? Wait, Cliff, think about what you’re doing!” Even as she spoke, her phone pinged as it received the photos.

“Alicia is doing exactly what Phillip is doing. Having an affair.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. Alicia’s beautiful and smart,” Cliff said. “She can be charming, too.”

“I know she can, but my head is spinning. Oh, Cliff, it would be so sad if Alicia and Phillip divorced.”

“Mom, don’t blame me. All I did was agree to accompany Alicia on this cruise. I didn’t expect that she’d meet anyone. Besides, if it makes you feel better, I don’t think she’s slept with him yet.”

Eleanor put her hand to her forehead. “I really don’t need to know the details. But if Alicia’s happy, I’m glad.”

“I’m happy, too, Mom,” Cliff said.

“What does that mean? Did you meet someone, too?”

Cliff laughed. “I’ll be back on the island in a few days and then all will be revealed.”

“You always did like to torture me, Cliff,” Eleanor said sternly.

He laughed again. “I still do.” He hung up.

For a long while after the call, Eleanor sat at the table, staring into space. How had her family become so careless, so separate? But then she remembered that her son was actually spending time with his sister, so that was a good thing, something she’d never have expected. Eleanor had never had an affair during her marriage to Mortimer, and she was sure Mortimer had never had an affair, either. He was strikingly handsome, and Eleanor was always aware of women flirting with him, but he was also honest, cautious, and more fascinated with his work as an insurance executive than with people. And he loved Eleanor and his family and his marriage.

Eleanor had always believed Phillip loved Alicia. But Phillip was having an affair, and now so was Alicia, and Ari was pregnant by a man who didn’t love her and whom she didn’t love. Eleanor’s universe had tumbled over.

She was growing gloomy, sitting there with her chin in her hand. She forced herself up from her chair. She would go for a proper mind-clearing walk.

Twenty

Ari told Beck not to meet her ferry because he had to work Friday afternoon. She drove her trusty Subaru onto the rumbling car ferry and after it docked in Hyannis, she drove up Route 6 and over the Sagamore Bridge, up the coast to Plymouth, and finally to his house on Pilgrim Trail Road.

Beck came out his front door the moment she pulled into the driveway. He opened her car door and pulled her up into a passionate kiss.

“Wow,” Ari said. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Beck laughed. “Come in. Wait, I’ll get your bag.” He shouldered her duffel and kept an arm around her waist as they walked up to the porch and the front door.

“It’s not my ultimate house,” Beck told her. “I’m concentrating on building my practice here. I wanted something clean, in good shape, and close to town.”

“It’s really nice,” Ari said. She would have said that if Beck had led her into a canvas tent. She was determined to talk to him about her pregnancy and her mind was jittery and unsettled.

“Be my guest,” Beck quipped, opening the door.

The house was small and seemed smaller, because almost every wall had a bookcase crowded with books. All kinds of books, serious psychology books, Western mystery books, Greek tragedies, Shakespearean plays, thick tomes on physics and quantum theory. The furniture was more or less Pottery Barn, in muted tones of gray and blue. It all looked comfortable and tidy.

“I’ll put your bag in Hen’s room,” Beck said. With a smile, he glanced at Ari. “In case you want to sleep in there tonight.”

“Beck, I—” Ari wanted to tell him that she was pregnant right now but he led her into the kitchen.

“Sit,” Beck said, pulling out a chair. “You have now entered Beckett Hathaway’s House of Fish. All of the fish is just out of the ocean.”

Ari laughed. “Did you catch it?” Ari asked as she settled in a chair.

“I plead the Fifth,” said Beck. He handed her a glass of prosecco. “Welcome.”

Ari raised her glass and sipped the tiniest amount possible. She’d done research on drinking during pregnancy, and according to an article from Harvard, drinking in late pregnancy was bad, but during the first three months was not dangerous if the mother didn’t drink much or often. Ari was determined to make this glass last the entire meal. She could say that she was feeling rocky after the crossing, and that was true. At every moment, she wanted to interrupt him, to tell him, but Beck had clearly gone to a lot of trouble for this meal.

First, baked oysters in spinach and cheese. Next, Beck quickly sautéed scallops in butter, and Ari thought she’d never eaten such sweet scallops in her life. Finally, clam chowder thick with bacon, onions, potatoes, cream, and clams. Beck sliced a newly baked baguette from a local bakery to dip into the chowder. Ari moaned as she ate. The small green salad served on the side plate was a perfect companion to the chowder. In the past month, she either couldn’t bear to eat or she couldn’t stop eating.

“You’re not drinking your wine,” Beck said. “Would you like a glass of water?”

“Please.” Ari put down her spoon. She clasped her shaking hands beneath the table. She couldn’t avoid it any longer.

“Thank you,” she said when Beck set the glass, filled with water and lots of ice cubes, at her place. She drank deeply, with her eyes closed, saying a