“Caroline!” I called, walking up the stairs into the guesthouse.
“In the kitchen, Mom,” she called back.
I loved this guesthouse. I had made it a sanctuary from the real world. Before all the girls had come home, I would come out here for a couple of days and feel like I was on a mini-vacation. It was less formal than the main house. Both floors had wall-to-wall seagrass carpet, marble mosaic tile in the bathrooms, and pale sky-blue walls.
As I walked into the kitchen/great room area I admired the beaded chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling. I loved the exposed beams in here, the casual, rustic air they lent.
“Do you need help packing, sweetie?” I asked.
It was a thinly veiled offer. The truth was, since our dinner a few days earlier, all I had been able to think about was Jack and that he had stayed away from me for six weeks—which probably meant he could do it forever. It was not my favorite thought.
Jack. I hadn’t imagined he would let me go like this. After all these years, all these secrets, all the life we nearly shared, I thought he would understand. So I was caught in a tangled web between sorrow and anger and acceptance. Some moments I could convince myself that his giving me two of my three daughters, keeping my secret for all those years, and never forcing his way into our lives was enough. Then, in the next moment, I would think he was being selfish and insensitive in not being more compassionate or understanding about my predicament with Sloane.
“We’re all ready to go tomorrow,” Caroline said. She was spraying the kitchen counter. She looked around to make sure no one was in earshot and then whispered, “I’m so nervous about Vivi being gone for an entire month.”
I nodded. I remembered the feeling. “I know, sweetheart, but she’s going to have the best time. She will learn so much and make friends she will have forever.”
She shrugged. “I know. It’s just the selfish part of me that wants her here.”
“It might be good. You and James could use this time to yourselves.” I paused. “Well, I mean, yourselves and Preston.”
She laughed. “I know what you mean. Who would have thought a baby would be easier to manage than an eleven-year-old?”
Her face fell slightly.
“You OK?” I asked.
She bit her lip. “I’m all over the place. I’m happy and then I’m sad and then I’m mad. It’s a never-ending rotation.”
“It probably will be for a while.” I took the bottle from her and continued spraying while she fluffed the pillows on the couch.
“So, Jack’s boat?” I asked what I hoped was casually.
“Yes,” she said. “You know. Fifty-eight Huckins, fully restored thanks to you.”
“How did you swing that?”
She shrugged. “I simply explained I had my captain’s license and needed to save my sister.” She paused. “It was actually way easier than I thought.”
Probably because he didn’t want to tell his daughter no. Carter had been terrible at that too. I felt that stabbing pain around my heart. It’s not a new revelation, necessarily, but it seems that whenever there is one loss, the others are felt more poignantly. Watching what Sloane was going through, seeing how she was suffering, brought back the memories of losing Carter so fiercely that, at times, it was hard to breathe.
“Was he surprised you had your captain’s license?” I asked.
Caroline hadn’t gotten her driver’s license until right before her son Preston, who was now three months old, was born. She insisted that no one needed a driver’s license in New York City. But in Peachtree Bluff, her sisters had finally refused to drive her, so she had no choice.
“I don’t think he believed me. But I said, ‘Jack, you and I both know that driving a yacht is so much more civilized than driving a car.’ ” She smiled.
I shook my head. “Caroline, for goodness’ sake. Only you would ask a man to borrow his pride and joy.”
“His pride and joy named aftermymother.” She winked at me.
Then it hit me. “If you’re taking the boat, where’s Jack going to stay?”
Her look revealed nothing, but I felt it. She knew something she wasn’t telling me. “Mother, I have absolutely no idea. I’m not Jack’s travel agent.”
“Gransley!” I heard from down the hall. Caroline’s dark-haired little clone came in, breathless and red-faced.
“What, darling?”
