“Do what you need to, text me tomorrow, and I’m at your service—oh and so is the truck. Hold on, I better be sure of that.” Libby walked over to a side door and opened it. “Yep, it’s there.”
Hope looked over her shoulder, and there it was, a pickup truck, vintage too, by the looks of it. It reminded her of her Grandpa Benton’s old truck.
“It’s not fancy, but it works. I promise. Keys are in the top drawer there. I’ve learned Uber isn’t exactly a thing out here.”
“It’s more than I need right now.”
“I know we pushed a little hard today, and I’m sorry for that. You deserve time to decompress. Just keep an open mind, though. This could be the place. Turned out it is for me.”
“Got it, I’ll think about it. After I pass out for a bit.”
Libby stepped forward and hugged Hope. “Rest up. I’m sure there are margaritas ala J.J. in our future. As soon as you're settled.”
“Oh boy, thanks for the warning.”
Libby left Hope alone in the little cottage. It felt familiar to Hope. It felt like her summers here. It felt like a time before life was so seriously adult.
Archie and her kids had never been here. She felt sad at that. It was an opportunity lost. Her girls might have liked it.
Hope opened a few windows, and the slightly musty lake smell aired out quickly. She walked the space. It was more than enough for her for a few days.
She didn’t know how many days she was going to even be here, really. She had cleared her schedule of catering jobs, thanks to her trip to Vegas. But still, she couldn’t just abandon her real-life forever. She’d have to deal with it.
Hope looked in the vintage fridge. Milk, cheese, eggs, and some bottled water. There was a chilled can of Pillsbury crescent rolls, butter, and a few other staples in the cabinets. An elegant sufficiency, that was what her grandpa used to say. There was an elegant sufficiency of food and accommodations for her for a few days of peace.
She stared at the can of crescent rolls in a tube. It was a doughy little timebomb. She jumped every time she popped one open, even now.
That pressurized tube was a metaphor for her current life. The time bomb of her marriage had finally popped like that can of rolls. Now each part of her life was being pulled apart. The sticky ends were separating at the rough perforations.
She believed wholeheartedly that Archie could kiss her butt. He didn’t deserve a check-in from her or anything else right now. But her kids. She probably should call the girls. She had texted them she won when she boarded a flight for Michigan and had received appropriate emoji responses.
Maybe she’d try again with a call after a little soak of her feet in the lake?
Hope’s suitcase was packed with clothes she wanted to cook in, not vacation in. She pondered what to do about a swimsuit.
She had a lot to ponder.
Had she left Archie? For good? The rest of her clothes, her mementos of the kids, and her favorite mixer, were all still in their Covington house. She really only cared about the mixer and the pictures. Did she need to talk to a lawyer next?
Did she need to get a moving company? What did people do?
What Hope did have was one hundred eight thousand dollars in cash. And an honest picture of her marriage.
Hope walked out back toward the old dock. The wooden slats creaked as she put her feet down. The planks were dry and rough on her bare feet. But it felt good. It felt familiar.
Though it was old, it seemed solid enough. She walked out to the end. There was a little boat, covered with a tarp, clipped to the side. She wondered what else might be around for her to use to enjoy the lake.
But for now, the sun, and the water, that was all she needed. She needed it more than she realized.
Hope sat down on the edge and plunged her feet in.
Whoa!!!
It was cold. Libby had said the water was warming up, but there was still a chill. It was June, and the sun was blazing this afternoon. And soon, her skin adjusted to the temperature.
The cool water felt good. She imagined what a little luxury it would be, after running her restaurant, to soak her tootsies at the end of the night.
No, this was not good. This thinking she could do whatever she wanted. This investing in the idea that her dreams could come true.
