Maxi stared at the ocean beyond the wall of glass windows in her living room. It was suppertime, and the summer sun was low in the sky, bouncing off the waves and turning the sail on the boat in the distance bright white. What color blue would she use to capture that scene if she were painting. Cerulean? No, it was lighter. Maybe manganese with a touch of green.
She turned away from the window, her thoughts turning to her friend. Jane had talked a good talk at Sandcastles that morning, but Maxi could see she was worried about Tides. Jane needed the money from the wedding to keep Tides going. Jane wouldn’t burden Maxi or Claire with her problems, but Maxi wished there was some way she could help. Maybe she could approach James about giving Jane a low-interest loan. If James ever came home. These days he hardly ever showed up for dinner.
As if trying to prove her a liar, the front door opened. He smiled when he saw her, just like old times. It was as if nothing was wrong, which made Maxi wonder if something actually was wrong or if it was all her imagination.
“Hey, honey.” As he walked toward her, she was struck by how handsome he was. Over the last years, he’d gained a few wrinkles, a couple of extra pounds, and some gray hair, but he still made her heart beat faster, just like he had when they’d first met. He came over and kissed her cheek, the spicy smell of his aftershave bringing up all kinds of emotions. Funny, he wasn’t acting like a man who was having an affair.
“Something smells great. What’s for supper?”
“Pot roast.” Maxi wasn’t sure why she still cooked big meals. With the kids gone and James working late most nights, it was usually a waste. But old habits die hard. Or was she just desperate to have things return to the way they were before?
He looked pleased. “My favorite. Roasted potatoes too?”
Maxi nodded. “The way you like them.”
“Can I help you with anything?” He took his jacket off, folded it precisely, then laid it over the back of the sofa.
“I guess you could set the table.” Maxi didn’t bother setting the table anymore, since she never knew if he would be home.
She followed him to the kitchen and checked on the potatoes while he pulled out plates, silverware, and glassware.
“How was your day?” he asked as he meticulously placed the items on the modern granite table.
“Great. You?” Did you inspect any beach cottages with Sandee Harris?
James shrugged. “Boring. You want wine?”
“Sure.”
They ate, settling into the familiar routine, just like thousands of meals they’d eaten before. It was as if nothing was wrong, and Maxi again wondered if she was just being overly sensitive. Emboldened by their closeness, or maybe by the wine, she asked, “I was wondering, were you at one of the beach cottages the other day?”
James glanced away, taking a sip of wine. “The cottages? No. Why would I be at a cottage?”
Maxi studied him for a second, her heart breaking. After thirty years, she knew all his tells. James was lying.
“Oh, no reason.” She focused on her pot roast, trying to keep tears at bay as she moved the pieces from one side of the plate to the other. Her appetite was gone. An awkward silence fell.
Why hadn’t she asked him point-blank about Sandee? What was wrong with her? Didn’t she have the guts to confront him?
But she had no evidence. Even Jane was now saying that it wasn’t James that she’d seen. And a business card was hardly proof of anything. What if she accused him and was wrong? Infidelity was a pretty serious accusation, and it would definitely put a wedge between them. No, she’d watch and wait until she could get solid evidence. Meanwhile, she’d use the time to get all her ducks in a row, make sure he didn’t control the finances so he could cut her out.
Once she had evidence and things were set so that she’d come out of this with her fair share, she would confront him. She had no intention of turning into one of those wives who just ignored her husband’s infidelities.