Beth sat up with a start in the early-morning darkness, her mind racing.
During her year in pastry school, she would start her day similarly, except she’d be thinking in French. It was just a few phrases without context or meaning, fragmented evidence that her mind had been churning overnight.
Now, the morning after Nora’s party, it wasn’t mise en forme or le pétrissage, but the words four walls rushing at her pre-coffee. Sometimes you have to sell everything you’ve got. Even the four walls.
She realized, pulling on her yoga pants, that Howard was dealing with the failure of the store all wrong. Or, rather, he was not dealing with it. And selling the Green Gable wasn’t the answer.
It was still dark, but she padded down to the kitchen, expecting to find Lauren getting ready for her daily run. Surprisingly, her bedroom door was still closed. Stephanie’s door, however, was open. And it was obvious her bed hadn’t been slept in.
An hour later, nursing her second cup of coffee at the kitchen table and waiting until it was a decent time to call Howard, Beth heard the patio door slide open.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Jesus! You scared the shit out of me,” Stephanie said.
“Should I even bother asking where you’ve been all night?”
“I was with Neil, obviously. So you can officially stop pushing Lauren on him.”
Beth sighed. “Well, I hope you’re happy now.”
“Do you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you really hope I’m happy? Because that would be a switch. I can’t remember the last time you thought about anything other than Lauren.”
“That’s unfair, Stephanie. Lauren suffered a tragedy. If I’ve been more focused on her—”
“It’s always been this way! Dad’s the only one who gives a shit about me and now you’ve driven him away too!”
Beth was momentarily stunned into silence.
Stephanie headed upstairs. Beth followed her, saying in a loud whisper, “I’m going to Philly today. Overnight. I’m taking Ethan with me.”
Stephanie turned around. “Why?”
“Why am I going to Philly?”
“No, why are you taking Ethan?”
“Because I can’t in good conscience leave him here to be ignored for hours at a time.”
“I resent that,” Stephanie said.
“Well, if you don’t start making some changes, one day your son is going to wake up and resent you.”
It was the first time in four years that Lauren had overslept. She woke up thinking about the coach’s interview as if it had been replaying in her mind all night long. But hockey culture demands resilience. Guys feel pressure to prove their toughness, and, frankly, they know they can be replaced. Especially the rookies.
She laced her sneakers, figuring she still had time to get in a quick run before work.
Outside, a mist settled around her. Lauren jogged in place on the boardwalk, taking deep breaths. It’s okay, she told herself, launching into the run. Her legs found their familiar rhythm, her feet hitting the boards in steady repetition.
The disease evolves in stages…you start to see the patient exhibit rage, impulsivity. He most likely will suffer depression.
Lauren ran faster, willing herself not to think about the end. To think, instead, about the beginning.
Ojai, California. Christmas in the Southern California mountains.
“Laur, are you dressed? Come out here.”
Rory on the hotel-room terrace watching the sun set. In the background, the Topatopa Mountains were bathed in pink light.
“Incredible, right?” he said, patting the chair next to him. She sat and he put his arm around her.
She nodded. It was breathtaking.
“The valley is lined up with an east–west mountain range so it gets this pink light at sunset. It’s one of the few places in the world where you can see this.” He kissed her, his hand grazing the silver heart around her neck. “I love that you still wear this.”
“Of course I do. I never take it off.”
He reached under his chair and presented her with a small white box.
“I hope you’ll wear this—and never take it off.”
“Oh!” Lauren said. “Are we doing gifts now? I have yours in the room—”
“Lauren, just open it.”
Lauren ran faster, picking up her pace. Atlantic City was in view.
It was a solitaire diamond, set in an intricately carved, art deco platinum band.
“It’s from the 1920s,” Rory said. “One of a kind. Like you.” And then he got down on one knee. “Lauren, will you marry me?”
Lauren couldn’t breathe. She bent over, hands on her knees, telling herself it would be okay. The vise slowly loosened its grip around her chest.
There was no way she could run home. She didn’t even want to try to walk. She didn’t have her phone with her, no money. She never brought either, even though her mother told her that was a mistake. “What if something happens?” she always said.
She could ask someone to borrow a phone and call for a ride. She couldn’t call her mother because she’d get too alarmed. She was always worrying about her; why give her more reason? She’d have to call Stephanie.
Matt found it difficult to watch the footage from last night, to see Lauren so upset. But the thesis of his film was confirmed. He had his movie, and yet his conversations with Stephanie at the bar nagged at him. His instincts as a filmmaker told him he was missing something.
Henny knocked on his door. “Sorry to disturb,” she said.
“No problem. Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. This is awkward and certainly not my favorite part of the job…” She nervously twisted the turquoise beads around her neck.
Money. He hadn’t paid for the room since Craig pulled the plug. And his free nights were up. He was out of time.
Unless…
Matt composed an e-mail and attached last night’s interview file. Without letting himself second-guess the idea, he e-mailed it to Craig.
“Thanks. Sorry to bother you,” Lauren said, climbing into Stephanie’s car. “Can you just drop me at work?”
Stephanie stared at her.
“You’re a sweaty mess.”
“There’s a shower there.”
Stephanie started the car. “I was half asleep. Why didn’t you call Mom?”
“Because I don’t want to worry her, okay? She already thinks I run too much.”
“Yeah, well, that’s because you do. It’s pathological, Laur.”
“A lot of people run.”
“Not this much,” Stephanie said, using one hand to fish around in her bag for a piece of gum. “You run down here and back every day? It’s crazy. No wonder you feel faint. Maybe Mom should be worried.”
Lauren barely heard her. She had a déjà vu, a flashback to another time Stephanie had picked her up. It had been a turning point in their relationship. The breaking point, actually.
Lauren and Rory planned their wedding for July 9, a date safely clear of the NHL playoffs. Beth pushed for their country club as the venue, and Rory’s mother pushed just as hard for a Catholic church wedding. Neither option appealed to Lauren and Rory, so Lauren flew to Philly to find a spot that felt right for them.
Stephanie picked her up at the airport. It was strange to see her pregnant. Lauren hoped the baby was something they could bond over, hoped that impending motherhood would somehow soften her sister’s attitude.
But before they’d even pulled out of short-term parking, Stephanie said, “I think you’re making a mistake with this wedding.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Where was this coming from?
“You can’t trust him,” Stephanie said. “Haven’t you seen that over the years? You’re signing on for a life of misery.”
“I don’t believe this!” Lauren said. “You’re about to become a mother, and you’re still jealous of my relationship with Rory.”
“I’m not jealous, Lauren. I’m just being honest. You deserve better.”
Lauren unlatched her seat belt and jumped out of the car.
“I really thought we were past all this,” Lauren said, shaking. “I was going to ask you to be my maid of honor. But if this is your attitude, I’m not sure I even want you at the wedding.”
And in the end, Stephanie didn’t show up at the wedding. Looking at her now, after everything that happened, Lauren thought it all seemed so silly. If nothing else, she wanted to fix their relationship.
Stephanie drove up to the front of Nora’s Café. Lauren opened the door, then turned around and said, “I’m glad you’re here this summer. And not just for the ride.”
Stephanie smiled.