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In many years, the Keating Property hadn’t seen such a thick blanket of early-winter snowfall. Sparkling droplets continued to shift from the grey skies above into mid-morning, beckoning the Harvey Sisters’ children out into the waves of fluffy snow for wild snowball fights and attempts at snowmen. Heather joined and whipped one snowball after another toward her targets, Nate, Donnie, Abby, and Bella, as she howled with frantic joy and child-like energy. All bundled up on the front porch, Casey and Nicole sipped warm mugs of coffee and watched the glittering wonderland-turned-war zone.
“I wish I had that energy,” Nicole remarked with a laugh. “All I have is enough energy to chew this donut.”
Casey nibbled at the outer edges of her maple-glazed donut and crossed her ankles. Each of them had donned two pairs of wool socks against the sharp-edged nature of this fresh winter’s day. As Maine girls, they knew to lean heavily on the power of layered clothing, especially as the temperature dipped into the teens.
In fact, the teens were nothing for these Maine girls. Come February, the teens would feel like a balmy summer’s day; such would be the contrast to the frigid days of high negatives. To be a Maine resident, you had to harden yourself to such realities. In a similar fashion, Casey supposed she had to harden herself to the reality of her approaching divorce. It would be a long, dark, wickedly cold winter— and she would spend each of those nights alone for the first time in twenty-four years. She would manage it the way she’d managed everything else.
“You’re awful quiet this morning,” Nicole pointed out as she took another bite of donut, one that resulted in chocolate cream bursting out of the center.
“I’m just tired,” Casey replied.
“Did you get much sleep last night?”
“Not really,” Casey admitted.
Nicole grumbled. “I wish I could give you advice about that. Meditation or yoga or acupuncture or...”
Casey shook her head as a strange swell of anger came over her. “I’m sure it’s just stress.”
“Has it helped to have the new project?” Nicole asked.
Casey arched her brow at Nicole; she sensed her facial expression was edged with disdain, yet didn’t have the strength to calm it.
“I mean, for the new house. The blueprint you’ve been working on,” Nicole offered hurriedly.
“Oh. Yes. I guess so.” Casey sniffed, recognizing Nicole’s pity. Casey wasn’t the only one who noticed a sincere shift in her mood since her career had tanked. With Nicole’s chef career off to the races and Heather’s writing career skyrocketing, it seemed obvious they’d look at their successful sister and scratch their heads with confusion at the current events.
Casey wanted to tell Nicole to carve, “I used to be somebody,” into Casey’s gravestone. But she resisted the urge to go that dark. Not on the day after Thanksgiving.
Speaking of the day after Thanksgiving, it was, for better or for worse, Black Friday— a day that, traditionally, the Harvey Sisters spent together, shopping and gossiping and eventually grabbing dinner and a glass of wine. Heather burst back up to the porch to announce that it was nearly time for them to prepare for their multiple-hour shopping extravaganza. Casey longed to articulate just how little she wanted to wear her skinny jeans and join the world once again; Thanksgiving hadn’t been particularly kind to her stomach. It sounded like borderline torture to stand in a dressing room and watch her body play out its middle-aged nature in the close mirror.
Well, there was that— along with the fact that she’d just told her husband she wanted a divorce after he’d appeared at the Keating House with a black eye. But she hadn’t yet found the confidence to explain the situation to her sisters.
“Come on...” Heather nagged when she noted Casey’s hesitancy. “We always do this. We can’t break tradition, not this year of all years.”
“You say that every year,” Casey returned.
“Sue me,” Heather returned as she walked up the steps and headed off to shower. “We’re leaving in one hour!”
The cousins seemed relieved to have the Keating House to themselves for the day. As Nicole reversed the car out of the driveway, Bella, Nate, and Donnie all stood out on the front porch with enormous, mischievous grins on their faces. They waved their mittens to and fro in goodbye, assuredly making plans to play drinking games and blare music from Uncle Joe’s stereo.
“I just hope they don’t burn the place down,” Nicole said with a sigh.
“We were so responsible at their age,” Heather returned. “I was raising twin babies when I was Kristine and Bella’s age.”
“It’s a different world,” Nicole affirmed. “Guessing it’ll be a little while before any of us reach the grandmother stage.”
“Fine by me,” Casey said, her voice flippant from the backseat.
Heather turned back to catch Casey’s eye. “You don’t want Melody and Donnie to enjoy the beautiful and nuanced experience of childrearing?” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.
Casey rolled her eyes. “Of course, I want them to have kids if that’s what they want. It’s just... I know how confusing it was for Grant and me when I got pregnant by accident. Maybe we rushed into things. I don’t want Melody or Donnie to have to rush into anything.”
Heather and Nicole exchanged curious glances.
Casey scoffed. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Nicole demanded.
“Don’t have a whole conversation in the air about me without telling me what you’re really thinking. It makes me spiral,” Casey spat.
Heather’s voice was quiet. “I just never knew that you regretted rushing things with Grant. You seemed so in love back then.”
“You were younger than me. What did any of us know about anything?” Casey demanded, which shut them all up for the next fifteen minutes, as Nicole drove them into downtown Bar Harbor, where several cozy boutiques and bookstores lined the bustling streets.
Someone had already shoveled and salted the Bar Harbor sidewalks to allow for Black Friday shopping. Christmas garlands were strung from light post to light post; red ribbons fluttered with the icy breeze. Little stereos had been installed in various posts to allow for the slightest hint of Christmas cheer in the form of song. Even now, a tiny voice sang, “Silver Bells,” shimmering in and out as they marched toward the first boutique.
Casey felt as though she’d walked through a Christmas nightmare. Everywhere they went, bright smiles created a direct contrast to the horrific and dark nature of her chaotic soul. Heather stretched a bright red sweater across her chest in the first boutique and gestured toward her sisters to ask, “Think I should try this on?” And the ease with which this conversation seemed to take form nearly made Casey burst into tears. She even heard herself say, “Oh, I don’t know, Heather. Red has never really been your color,” in a way that made her seem believable and very in the moment. Perhaps she could pretend to be normal like everyone else, even for the next few hours, before she collapsed yet again in her bed.
At the third boutique, Casey tried on a number of black dresses and modeled them to her sisters, who “oohed” and “aahed.”
“Those legs!” Nicole hollered playfully as Casey strolled up and down the little hallway in the back of the store.
“She’s killing it!” Heather cried.
Casey stopped short and analyzed the third of the little-black dress selection, tilting her hip to catch the line of her leg as it curved up toward her cinched-in waist. She was grateful not to see much of her Thanksgiving feast in this forgiving mirror.
A thought suddenly tore through her as she blinked at herself.
Should she buy this dress for the inevitable dates she would go on after the divorce went through?
Her knees clacked together as she staggered to the side of the hallway and inhaled sharply. She positioned her hands to the side of the wall and blinked at the ground as tears cascaded down her cheeks. There was no stopping them. She couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer.
“Oh! Casey?” Heather scuttled forward with surprise.
“Casey, honey...” Nicole joined her on the other side.
Shrouded by the women she loved most in the world, Casey forced herself to breathe. She inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, and then exhaled. Slowly, the world pieced itself together before her again. Slowly, her thoughts took more articulate formation.
“What in the world just happened? What was that about?” Heather whispered.
“I have a granola bar in my purse. I want you to eat it,” Nicole told her, concern laced across her face.
Casey shook her head. Nicole and Heather locked eyes yet again, displaying some sort of invisible conversation within the space. Casey’s throat tightened. She couldn’t bear this. Not a moment more.
“Grant arrived at the house last night,” she breathed.
Heather’s jaw dropped open. “You’re kidding.”
Casey shook her head despondently.
“What happened, honey?” Nicole whispered.
Casey sniffled. She felt utterly ridiculous in this two-hundred-dollar little black dress in the back of a boutique on Black Friday of all days. Sometimes, the truth picked its time to come to the surface. This was that time.
“I hadn’t seen him in so long. We’d hardly talked. When I opened the door, he looked like a stranger. And on top of that...”
Could she really tell them this?
It was so embarrassing. It seemed the cherry on top of a moldy slice of pie.
“You can tell us, sweetie,” Heather murmured.
“He had a black eye,” Casey stuttered.
“Oh my god,” Nicole breathed.
Casey clamped her eyes shut, willing this reality to fall away from her. Even in the silent darkness of herself, it remained the truth. How awful.
“Come on, honey. Let’s get you out of this dress,” Nicole suggested.
“There’s a wine bar around the corner,” Heather said firmly. “I’ll go make sure we can grab a table as soon as possible.” She walked off in her Louboutin heels, leaving Casey to sweep back into the dressing room and perform the embarrassing act of undressing herself beneath the horrific lights of the dressing room. They were like surgical lights.
Once at the wine bar with a glass of rosé in hand, Casey breathed easier. The space bustled with other women armed with shopping bags from recent Black Friday purchases. Different perfume fragrances wafted in the air around them. Upon Casey and Nicole’s arrival, Heather had already purchased two bottles— a rosé and a Malbec as she waited for her sisters with three half-filled wine glasses.
Safe within the cocoon of their sisterly love, Casey found new ways to verbalize everything that had been going on for the past several years.
“I was so proud of him when he started his career,” Casey breathed. “I knew it had been hard on him, in a way, to raise our children as a stay-at-home dad while my career flourished. I always wanted him to have his own thing. But then, he, of course, got one promotion after another until he spent at least a week, maybe more, out of the house per month. I missed him so much. He was my rock. Especially when it came to things like....” Casey paused as she tried to build the confidence to say it. “Especially when it came to my temper,” she finally offered.
Nicole and Heather nodded knowingly. If there was anything Casey could be just then, it was honest. Being a sister meant going through one another’s dirty laundry sometimes. Casey had been there just as much for Nicole and Heather— offering her home to Nicole after her marriage collapsed and being there every day for Heather after Max’s disappearance.
It was her turn for support, she supposed. No matter how vulnerable that made her feel.
“I grew more and more volatile at work. I guess I’ve told you some of that,” Casey continued. “I got into fights with colleagues I’d worked alongside for ten years or more. These fights really could have been avoided. It was just me, nit-picking, thinking I always knew best...”
Casey dropped her chin forward as a shiver coursed along her spine.
“But honestly, not having Grant around as often messed with me,” Casey breathed. “He’d always been around. And then, one day, he went off and created a world all his own. Good for him, right? But he just kept claiming more and more of that world. Even after I quit the architecture firm, his career skyrocketed. He told me it was time for him to bring in the money so that I could finally focus on the projects I wanted to do. But as you both know, I never got around to any of that. I’d lost my love for architecture while he’d found his true love, which is travel. In the past year, we’ve slept in the same bed no more than half the year.”
Heather’s lips formed a round O. Nicole shook her head despondently.
“Wednesday night, I called his secretary,” Casey continued somberly. “Because Grant wasn’t picking up his phone, and I just needed to know... know when he was coming, or if he was coming at all. His secretary was sleeping when I called her. Maybe she spoke out of line. I don’t know. But what she told me, I’ll never forget. She insinuated that there was a whole lot about Grant I would never know. And then, the very next day, Grant appears on the doorstep with flowers and a massive black eye.”
Heather closed her eyes as a single tear trickled down her cheek. Casey could practically read her mind. She could practically feel the stories roll around the back of her head— stories that involved Grant as a vibrant young father of two, a man who’d befriended her husband, Max, in a way that had rivaled brotherly love. When Max had died, Grant had drunk himself into a stupor for five nights in a row before finally heading back out onto the road.
“What did you say about the black eye?” Nicole asked.
Casey buzzed her lips. “I told him that it was obvious our marriage was over.”
“Casey!” Heather hissed.
Casey shrugged, suddenly flippant. She tossed back a huge gulp of her glass of rosé, yearning to forget.
“I want to do everything through lawyers,” Casey affirmed. “I don’t want to see his face again. It’s too painful. And it’s time for me to move on.”
“Move on? From the love of your life?” Nicole demanded. “I think you may be jumping the gun here.”
Casey arched an eyebrow. She longed to point out that Nicole had once thought Michael was the love of her life; how wrong she’d been about that monster. Perhaps Casey had been wrong, too.
“I just don’t know about this, Casey. It seems rushed,” Heather offered.
“The two of you haven’t spent much time together over the past few years,” Nicole said.
“That’s so telling, isn’t it?” Casey demanded. “He hasn’t wanted to touch me with a ten-foot pole. Now, I’ve finally given him reason to leave for good.”
Nicole and Heather gave one another side-long glances. This time, Casey didn’t have the strength to nitpick them to death about it. She chugged the rest of her wine and filled her glass again as she riffled through the menu, on the hunt for small plates and tapas. She felt suddenly ravenous.
“Oh,” she added suddenly, as her finger traced over the menu list of a fine selection of locally-sourced cheeses. “Nicole. If you could send me the name of your divorce lawyer, that would be fantastic. I want to get this started as soon as possible.”