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“Beck.” His smile is a bare thing, nothing like what it was when he was young. “He wasn’t older. He’d just hit six feet before the rest of us had even entered puberty. That was a fun day.”
The sun is beginning to slip over the horizon. I slide my feet into the sand, burrowing them there for warmth. “Theyallseemed like fun days.”
He hitches a shoulder. “I thought so, yeah.”
There’s something darker hidden there. “You don’t sound sure.”
He exhales. “It was hard for my mom. She bought this place hoping it would get my father to work less. Instead, he was just relieved we were gone so he could work more.”
“Did he ever slow down?”
Caleb rakes a hand through his hair. “Not exactly. TSG was his company, but he got into some financial trouble and died of a stroke right after I left Wharton. I’ve been trying to sort it out ever since.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. Did he actuallywantto take over at TSG or did he have other plans that got derailed? I’m not sure how to ask, though, or even if I should.
“It was a while ago,” Caleb says, shrugging. “Anyway, are you ready for tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure.” I narrow my eyes at Sophie, who seems to be threatening Henry with a bucket of mud. “We’ve still got no results, but also…the reporter’s going to ask me how the company has changed, and it hasn’t really, right? I mean, be honest—you hate everything about this.”
“Look, I just think people should settle for the benefits that were outlined in their employment contracts. Everyone expects a morning massage and Frappuccino waiting on their desk these days, as if they’re doing the company a favor by showing up at all. I might be willing to throw money at something if you can prove the potential benefit, but I’m not writing you a blank check so you can blow it all on therapy dogs and incense.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of meditation candles and healing crystals.”
His mouth twitches. “I’m not at all surprised by that.”
Sophie and Henry stop bickering and Sophie runs to me with a bucket of sand. “What flavor do you want?” she demands.
I hold out my hands. “Can I have strawberry?”
She shakes her head. “I-D-H-T.”
The code game again. Sophie’s now the only child in her class who joins the first graders for reading, which makes Henry’s struggles that much more obvious. I feel guilty for introducing it in the first place and guilty that I’d take Sophie’s success away from her if I could, to protect Henry. Your children grow and change—the one constant of motherhood is the fucking guilt.
“I don’t…have that?” I guess. “Ummm...mint chip?”
“Okay,” she says, dumping the wet sand on my hands…and all over my legs. Caleb’s gaze lands on my thighs again.
“What’s with the initials?” he asks as I brush the sand off.
“Just a phonics game I play with them. It mostly gives Sophie ample ways to express her disapproval.”
A wistful thing passes over his face. “It’s cute.”
There’s a small, strange twist in my heart.Cuteis the last word I’d expect from a guy who called children ‘monsters who require an unreasonable amount of care.’
Henry walks up the beach like Sophie did, but rather than coming to me…he goes to Caleb.
“No, Henry,” I say. “Mr. Lowell is in nice clothes.”
Caleb’s gaze softens as he looks at Henry. “I’ll take…peach.”
Henry shakes his headno, a ghost of pleasure on his face. I swallow hard—sorrow and joy at once.
“What about rum raisin? Do you have that?”
Henry shakes his head again and Caleb laughs.
“I really feel like your business could stand to diversify, but fine. I’ll have vanilla. Please tell me you have vanilla.”
