It was then that James Harper came by with a six-pack and a bunch of funny stories from the inn’s guests. Apparently, one of them was a soap opera TV star, and when James and the other staff members hadn’t recognized him immediately, he’d caused a big fuss and checked out. “He wanted his money back,” James sputtered. “It was all really dramatic. If he brings any of that energy to television, he must be really good.”
“Did you give him the refund?” Wren asked.
“No way!” James cackled, then glanced around. “Where’s the birthday boy?”
“He’s still napping,” Ivy said flatly. She hadn’t found the will to laugh at her father’s stories. “The kids will be up in a little while.”
“And when will Daniel get back from his little school?” James asked. “Has he learned his ABCs yet?”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “He’ll be back any second.”
But the problem was, Daniel didn’t come back soon after that, not the following second, nor the one after that. Eventually, James went to the grill and cooked the chicken himself, slathering it with the barbecue sauce Ivy had mixed up that afternoon. The babies were up and causing a ruckus in the kitchen, and Ivy was busy chopping vegetables, drinking a glass of wine, and trying and failing to remember that Daniel wasn’t around.
Because the party was more for the adults than for baby Tyler, Tyler was eventually passed around for good night kisses and taken to bed. Lily went shortly after that. This left Wren, James, and Ivy at the kitchen table, their platters glossy with barbecue sauce but mostly scraped clean. It was nearly eight thirty and long after Daniel was meant to be back. Ivy hadn’t heard from him. She’d tried his cell phone a few times, but it was off.
Ivy was busy covering for him. She told her father and sister that Daniel had a test the following morning and that he was busy finishing both studying for it and writing an essay.
James snorted. “If you ask me, he should get back in that fishing boat and make himself useful. Is he going to make money writing essays? Is he going to support his family with a few math equations?”
“He’s trying to better himself, Dad,” Ivy stammered, collecting their plates and setting them in the dishwasher.
“I’m trying to better myself with another slice of cake,” James said.
Wren rolled her eyes, got up, and got their father another slice. “You’re shameless, you know that?”
“Your mother was always ready to call me that,” James said. “Your sisters, too.”
Ivy and Wren were quiet for a moment, thinking about Juliet and Celia, the ones who’d gotten away, who’d fled, who never called home. Resentment boiled in Ivy’s gut.
“We’re all having second slices,” Wren said then, standing up to fetch more cake for herself and Ivy. “It’s a birthday party, after all.”
Ivy blinked and blinked so that her tears didn’t fall. She ate her cake and listened for the sounds of Daniel’s truck outside. She wondered if she’d spend all her life waiting for him to come home.
A few days after that, Ivy was at the flower shop, perfecting a birthday bouquet for Albany Monroe, an older woman who lived five streets away, whose husband adored her. Spring blossoms grew from the spindly tree limbs outside, and sunshine sprawled across the floorboards. Ivy shifted the bouquet this way and that, trying to analyze it from every possible perspective. She knew people appreciated this level of professionalism.
When Albany’s husband came in to pay and collect the flowers, there was a skip to his step that shouldn’t have been allowed, given his age.
“How is that family of yours?” he asked, smiling.
“Everyone’s good,” Ivy answered. “Happy and healthy.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he said. He headed back out to greet his longtime lover, his wife of practically forever.
Ivy felt her smile fall.
But the truth was, everyone in her family was mostly happy and healthy. Daniel had returned home on the night of the birthday with alcohol on his breath and the smell of perfume in his hair, but he’d fallen all over himself with apologies and fallen asleep ten minutes later. Ivy hadn’t really seen him since then. He’d gotten up for school, or whatever it was he did, the following morning, and she’d spent every evening till bedtime at the Bluebell Cove Inn, working the front desk and letting her children sleep in the office. She wanted to avoid him.
She guessed that he didn’t notice she was gone.
Ivy began to sweep the front room of leaves and little twigs, trying to distract herself. It was nearly two in the afternoon, and she planned to close up by four, pick up her babies at the babysitter, and head back to the inn.
The bell jangled over the door, and she called out, “Hello! Welcome,” then spun around to see a woman of about twenty-two, maybe, with long auburn hair that curled at the edges. Her eyes were enormous, as though she wanted to visually swallow Ivy. Ivy set her broom down.
“Can I help you look for something?” Ivy asked.
The woman scrunched up her face. “No? I mean. Yes. I mean.” She sounded as frightened as a mouse.
Ivy had never had that effect on people. She crossed her arms over her chest and wondered if she seemed really old to the younger woman, although they probably weren’t separated by more than a few years.
