As he kissed me again, I wondered who in the world wouldn’t be happy to have a man so kind and generous as their father.
It wouldn’t be much longer until I found out.
THIRTY-FIVE
moments
sloane
May 1, 2017
Dear Sloane,
There are moments in life to retreat. We have all known, experienced, and felt those inevitable scenarios in which we have no choice but to walk away. As a soldier, I’m faced with them every day, and sometimes I don’t walk away, complicating the situation further. But, just as often, more often, I’d like to argue, there are moments to advance, to lunge forward with purpose, with power, but most importantly, with passion. Because any action taken without passion? Well, it’s simply a waste of time.
All my love,
Adam
CAROLINE HAD TAKEN Ahuge step in getting her life back: she had moved into the house James had bought down the street. With him. Emerson had offered us the guesthouse, which I thought was really sweet. I made like I was being selfless, but in reality, I loved being in the main house because Mom got up with the boys almost every morning. That was way better than privacy if you asked me.
Mark was a seemingly permanent fixture in our lives. If we were at dinner, Mark was at dinner. If Emerson left town for an interview to promote her Edie Fitzgerald movie, Mark went with her. They were connected at the hip, and she seemed like a teenager again. Same with Mom, who was trying to deny she was back together with Jack. But it was painfully obvious. The whole world was in love. The whole world had their man. I had a cell phone I kept glued to my hip in case my uncle got enough bandwidth to Skype me or the military called to say they had found my husband.
It was a sleepy morning around Peachtree Bluff. The boys were at Mother’s Morning Out. Mom was at the shop. I was taking the day off to get some painting done at the house. I was almost at the point where I thought I might want to sell some of my paintings. And I knew this new series, with its sky blues and soft pinks and yellows, would fly out of her shop. I felt proud, and I couldn’t wait to get those commission checks.
As I dipped my brush into the pale pink, the color of many a Peachtree sunset, Emerson walked into the living room. “I need to talk to you,” she said.
This was why artists had studios.
“Can it wait?” I asked.
I noticed she had a bag in her hand, and for a split second I was afraid she was eloping. If she was eloping and I didn’t tell Mom, Mom would absolutely kill me. It would be almost as bad as if Mom found out Caroline and I knew Emerson was sick and hadn’t told her.
She shook her head, and I sighed. “What is it?”
“We’re going to New York,” she said.
I laughed. “Yeah. Right. Good luck with that one.”
She set the bag down on the floor and crossed her arms. “James called me and said this Hamptons party he and Caroline are going to is really a party honoring Caroline.”
“For what?” I asked. “Her contributions to Barney’s?”
I laughed. I thought I was funny. I was in a pretty good mood this morning.
Emerson smiled. “No, actually. Our sister raised more than two million dollars for a charity that funds arts programs for at-risk schools and physically challenged communities.”
My jaw dropped. “Come again? You mean our sister? Caroline Beaumont?”
Emerson nodded.
“That’s awesome,” I said. “I’m so proud of her. But I can’t leave my kids.”
“You aren’t,” Emerson said. “We’re all going, and Caroline’s nanny is going to keep them at her house in East Hampton.”
I could feel my mouth getting dry and my pulse beginning to race. “OK. Then I’m not going because I’m sure as hell not going back to New York.”
“Sloane, our sister took care of your children for five weeks without a word of complaint. She was with them all day, every day, helping Mom. She paid all your bills, including your obscene credit card. She would do anything for either of us without a second thought. She is being honored in a big, big way, and we are going to be there for her.”
