This man wouldn’t.
Gripping the strap of her purse, she pivoted and continued to the kitchen, through the laundry room, and into the garage where her car waited, packed with her suitcases and a few sentimental items to personalize her new living space.
After she slid behind the wheel, backed out, and guided the car down the long drive rimmed with flowers, she glanced in her rearview mirror.
Was Martin standing in the shadows, watching her leave?
Or had he already moved on to his office to tackle his never-ending inbox?
If she were a betting woman, she’d put her money on the latter.
At the bottom of the drive, she paused to give the multilevel stone and cedar house a sweep. High on a hilltop, with a panoramic view of the sea over the pristine lawn, it had been the talk of the town when Martin built it. A showplace, as she’d overheard one local call it not long after it was finished. And it was.
But it had never felt like home, because Martin hadn’t been the same after they moved here.
The scene before her blurred, and she groped in her purse for a tissue. Dabbed at her lashes.
Why the outward trappings of success had become so important to the man she’d married remained a mystery. As far as she was concerned, the modest house they’d occupied closer to town as newlyweds had been more than sufficient.
Somewhere along the way, however, Martin’s priorities had changed ... for reasons he’d never shared.
And until—or unless—he did, there was no future for them.
Turning away from the house that held too few happy memories, Diane pulled onto the road, pointed her car toward Hope Harbor, and prayed for the courage to stay the course as she stepped into a brave new world.
6
Where was Charley when she needed him?
As Devyn pulled into a parking spot on Dockside Drive, she cast a dismayed glance at the shuttered taco stand.
Shoot.
After her frustrating Saturday morning at the hospital, she could use a sympathetic ear.
Leaning back in her seat, she tapped a finger on the wheel.
What was she going to do about Lauren?
While her sister’s condition had improved dramatically, she was also being difficult. Despite Dr. Sherman’s strong recommendation that she accept the offer of in-home assistance from a family member, she was balking.
Not surprising in light of her resentment during their first real conversation after she’d awakened from the coma—not to mention the vitriolic comments that had spewed from her during the post-traumatic amnesia phase of her recovery.
Logically, however, she should accept the offer, at least for a couple of weeks while she regained her strength.
Lauren, however, continued to resist—even after the neurologist told her that without home help, a rehab center could be in her future for a week or two.
Her antipathy must run deep and strong if she preferred an impersonal facility over living in her own home with on-site care from a family member.
How discouraging was that?
Sighing, Devyn considered her options.
She could go back to New York, of course. Chill until the fall season began, as she’d planned to do. A stretch of downtime would be welcome.
Yet if she let this opportunity to reconnect with Lauren slip by, the rift between them might never be breached.
Convincing her sister to get with the program, however, was proving to be more of a challenge than learning the intricate choreography for the demanding double role of Odette/Odile inSwan Lake.
