Ada tilted her head at her husband, having never heard this from Hannah. Hannah had always talked about pursuingmore artistic endeavors, such as literature, painting, or museum studies. But maybe Peter had talked “some sense” into her, or his version of sense.
“I’m sure that whatever she decides to do will suit her perfectly,” Kathy said.
It never ceased to surprise Ada how supportive Kathy was of her grandchildren, compared to how she’d been with Ada. She tried not to hold on to that resentment.
“You know,” Kathy said now, snapping her fingers, “Ada, I was thinking about ways you could elevate your name as a therapist. You know, how you could create a better brand.”
Ada raised her eyebrows, suddenly not hungry in the slightest.
“You know the rate of divorce these days?” Kathy continued, her face darkening. “It’s more than 50 percent! Failed marriages! Broken homes! But Ada, you’ve managed to have a wonderful and happy marriage. It’s something most people can’t say about themselves. Perhaps you should consider writing a book about marriage. Something to help people in their day-to-day lives.”
Ada and Peter exchanged split-second glances. She was pretty sure Peter was thinking,Ugh, can we go home now?
“It’s a good idea, Mom,” Ada said. “But I think there are already a ton of marriage books out there.”
Kathy raised her shoulders. “I read some of them when your father was breaking up with me. I’m telling you, they weren’t good. They didn’t help in the least!”
Ada took a small bite of chicken potpie and thought about her father, whom she’d lost touch with after the divorce. He’d died a few years ago of heart disease. Ada and Peter had attended the funeral and met his other children, far younger than Ada, who spoke about her father as though he were a far different man.But Ada still remembered that her father had been the one to “allow” her opera lessons, which was something.
“I’ll think about it,” Ada said. “But my first priority is my patients.”
“Of course,” Kathy said. “Can you imagine what those people would have done without you? Imagine. You might have been an opera singer your whole life! What a waste.”
After lunch, Peter and Ada hugged Kathy goodbye and drove the rest of the way to the ferry. They spoke in fits and starts, as though too emotionally exhausted from the weekend and their time with Kathy to fully dive into a conversation. But on the boat, they got out of the car and grabbed cups of coffee from the kiosk and watched as a spring rain spat against the windows. Ada loved being out on the water, even when the waves thrashed against the side of the boat.
Suddenly, Peter asked, “Did it make you miss it?”
Ada flinched and looked up at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“The party. Opening night. Did it make you miss the opera?” The fiery intensity behind his eyes made her think there was a right and a wrong answer to this question.
Ada swallowed her coffee and considered what to say. On the one hand, if she said yes, I miss opera like crazy, maybe Peter would think she didn’t love the life they had together. But if she said no, she’d be lying. What was better? She took a breath, thinking of Peter, Hannah, Kade, and Olivia. Her heart swelled.
Ada reached across the table and took his hand. “My life is perfect,” she said softly. “Everything happened the way it was supposed to.”
Peter smiled and squeezed her hand tight, just as the ferry began to rock violently in the waves, and thunder boomed in the sky overhead. They were almost home.
Chapter Four
Ada was bleary-eyed from the long weekend, nursing a cup of coffee and going over her notes for her first patient on Monday morning. It was often hard for her to get her mind around every new patient, but she found it essential to remember everything they’d told her throughout their time together. She didn’t want to feel neglectful or forgetful.
On Ada’s desk was a plaque that read: DR. ADA WAGNER. She’d kept her maiden name at her practice, wanting to hold on to a piece of her past, the opera singer Ada Wagner. She remembered how quickly she’d corrected Quinn at the opera house, saying she was Ada Bushner now, and winced.
Natalie popped her head into the office, smiling as she asked, “How did it go this weekend? Was it amazing?”
Ada grinned. “It was really great.” She wouldn’t tell anyone how complicated it had been for her. She’d decided it didn’t matter enough.
Natalie groaned. “Manhattan! Opera! It’s all so romantic.”
“Peter and I walked by our old places,” Ada said. “It’s hard to believe we were ever so young.”
“You’re still young!” Natalie said. “Forty-three is the new twenty-five.”
“Tell that to my abs!” Ada said, thinking of the powerful torso she’d sculpted and how essential it had been for her opera career.
Natalie stuck out her tongue. “You look fantastic, honey. No way around it.”
A few minutes later, Ada’s newest patient entered the office and sat down, her cheeks gaunt and her skin pale. It was Katrina Petri from last week. But it was as though grief had caught back up with her and drawn her back into the depths that she’d thought she was done with.
