Hope didn’t want to be vindictive. She was a cook. Bitter wasn’t a flavor she wanted to serve to the world.
“Do you girls see me as the villain, the one who quit? I hope that’s not the case. I will say only this: It was a last straw kind of thing, between your dad and me, beyond the affair.”
“I don’t see you as the villain, and neither does Sara, well, when I can get a hold of her. But we love Dad too.”
“For sure, yes, and I don’t want to interfere with that.”
“Mom, I’ve been in relationships, I understand.”
Her little girls weren’t little girls. She was proud of them and hoped they’d figure out this next phase. The one where they were off being adults, and she was too.
“You know, I may not want your dad here, but I do want you and your sister here. This place is a perfect retreat. If you had a long weekend, you could come to visit, sit by the lake, and check out my restaurant. It’s coming together, but I’d love to get your thoughts.”
“Thanks, Mom, I appreciate it, but this summer is nuts. I don’t think I can get away for a while.”
“Sure, well, the door is open, and so is the offer. Should I be worried about Sara? She texts but just hasn’t answered any of my calls.”
“You know her. She’s a free spirit. If she’s texting, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“Okay, well, let’s make sure we both keep tabs on her, at least with texts.”
“Of course. I love you, and I’m very proud of the restaurant. Honest.”
“Thank you, honey. I love you too.”
They hung up. It was good to clear the air. Archie was a better man as a father than a husband. That was a deal most mothers would take. But Hope was over being shortchanged by Archie’s deficits.
True to her instruction to Julia, she called Sara but didn’t expect her to pick up.
“Checking in. Dad and I are officially divorced. I know it’s weird to leave this as a voicemail, but you haven’t taken my calls in a bit. Love you, are you okay? Getting worried.”
Her phone buzzed to indicate a new text was coming in.Aha!
“Proud of you, mom. Love u. I’m fine. Call ya later.”
Proof of life, that was all you could get some days with adult kids.
* * *
Tuesday, July 12th. Libby had her phone attached to her hand. Every ping, buzz, and alert had her jumping a foot in the air.
They’d decided a day on the sandbar would be the best thing.
The restaurant was closed. J.J. had finished her clients in the morning. And Keith, good-hearted man that he was, had driven them out in the pontoon boat.
They were trying like heck to distract Libby, and the “summer water” that J.J. had in the cooler was helping. But you could see the tension in Libby’s brow. You could also see she didn’t seem to be eating. Libby was waiting on pins and needles to see if her bid to get the grant committee to reconsider was going to work, since the day she’d realized Covert Pier didn’t have the same level of need as Irish Hills.
“You can’t let this get to you so much. Have some carbohydrates. You’re looking underfed,” J.J. said.
Keith put a hand on Libby’s shoulder, and she passed on the potato chips that J.J. offered.
Libby remembered a similar setup decades ago when they planned their futures. She had a little feeling of déjà vu. She had been here before. They all had.
“You need to get a degree, just as a backup,” Libby had instructed Goldie.
Goldie had waived Libby off and instead took a dip in the water. Turns out Libby had been wrong in that case, though Hope believed Libby had only been wrong a handful of times in her life.
Libby jumped up, and the entire pontoon rocked with the dramatic motion.
