| |
The morning of December 13th, Casey shook hands with Bar Harbor construction company coordinator Baxter Allen regarding her plans to break ground on the Keating property for what she now termed “The Keating House Part Two.” Mr. Allen had called the blueprints for the new house “phenomenal” and asked where she normally operated as an architect. She informed him that she’d been out of the game for many years but “so hoped to get back into it soon.” He responded that he had several interested clients who just needed “interesting architectural plans, mostly for summer homes surrounding Bar Harbor.” Casey was intrigued and agreed to give Mr. Allen her business cards to pass along. Perhaps she hadn’t lost her game, after all. Perhaps this was just a fresh chapter in the book of her life.
The previous few days had been a whirlwind, to say the least. Casey had learned that the supposed love of her life had another family that lived in Montana and he’d given them at least one hundred and fifty thousand dollars over the past three years. She’d also learned that the only way she could force herself through the darkness of this horrific time was to keep going. Thusly, she’d charged through twelve-hour days at the Keating Inn, occasionally offering her abilities in the Acadia Eater as either a waitress or some kind of line cook. Beyond that, she worked tirelessly on the blueprints, had arranged this very meeting with the construction company about the next steps, and had Christmas shopped until she’d nearly collapsed. When that wasn’t enough, she’d gone on to bake five different types of Christmas cookies, attended a few spin classes, run through some aerobics, and stretched through hours of yoga at the nearest gym.
“You’re a go-getter, Casey. You always have been. I’ll give you that, girl,” Nicole told her one evening, her face stricken. “Just don’t push yourself so far that you break.”
After the meeting with the construction company, Casey sped off to the gym for another spin class, where she sweated herself silly, fixated on the image of herself in the wall-sized mirror straight ahead. The spin class instructor hollered directions, demanding that they lift themselves from the seat and spin faster, stronger. Casey allowed herself to forget the inner aching of her soul. She allowed herself to breathe.
Casey washed herself clean, then headed off to meet Heather, Nicole, their cousin Brittany (Uncle Joe’s daughter), Melody, and Abby. They all waited for her at the nearby wine bar, the same one where Melody and Casey had learned of Quintin Griffin’s attempt at suicide. That had been either six days or a lifetime ago. Casey wasn’t sure which.
Melody erupted from the table when she first spotted her mother. She flung her arms around her, greeting her warmly as she said, “There you are! I was getting worried.”
Casey’s smile was overly bright; it felt plastic and false on her face. “How was your trip to the city?”
Melody had journeyed to New York over the previous weekend to meet with more potential clients, including the actress who’d just worked with Brad Pitt. Casey had been genuinely surprised that Melody had the strength for such a trip, especially after what they’d just learned about Grant. In Melody’s words, however, they “had to keep going.” Otherwise, it meant letting Grant win.
“We ordered the hot mulled wine,” Heather said as she jumped up to hug Casey immediately afterward. “And I meant to say something last night, but that butt of yours... Those spin classes are really showing off. I might have to join you next time.”
Casey blushed as she sat down. How could she translate that the spin classes gave her nothing but mental release? Maybe the elevated butt would help her somewhere down the line if she ever cared to date again. Just then, she was ready to denounce all men.
“I have some great news,” Casey announced as she settled deeper into her chair. “The construction company approved the designs. They want to break ground on the property as soon as the ground thaws. We’ll have a second Keating House mid-way through summer, I bet.”
“That’s incredible!” Heather cried.
“Now we just have to fight over who gets to live in the house you designed,” Abby added with a vibrant smile.
“I want to stay in Uncle Joe’s place,” Nicole affirmed. “It’s nostalgic for me now.”
“That makes sense,” Casey said thoughtfully, although she’d never understood Nicole’s affection for Uncle Joe. She’d tried to explain the friendship they’d cultivated, but Casey’s heart remained semi-hardened to thoughts of Uncle Joe and Adam Keating.
“And then we can start the decorating process!” Heather continued excitedly. “Melody, I’m guessing you’d like to have a hand in that?”
Melody grinned wildly. “I have about a million ideas.”
They drank through their first mulled wine and ordered seconds, along with two wooden boards covered with stinky soft and hard types of cheeses, plus plump purple grapes and sesame-covered crackers.
“This is perfect finger food,” Casey stated with a laugh. “I can’t believe I ever prepared any kind of meal for a man.”
“They’re always so hungry!” Nicole giggled. “Michael used to ask me what was for dinner every day around two in the afternoon. I was like, I don’t know! I just had lunch!”
“My ex-boyfriend was the same,” Abby, who’d recently gone through a hellish breakup of her own, affirmed. “I had to hide my favorite snacks to make sure he wouldn’t eat them.”
The conversation rolled forward as snow fluttered down outside. Although Casey felt vibrant and very much within the conversation, a small part of her surged with sorrow. Despite her never-ending workout regime and her constant striving to make the time pass as quickly as possible, a part of her knew she would never overcome her “love” for Grant. It was like a tumor she would have to carry around for the rest of time.
Nobody told you love was so debilitating. It was something you learned along the way, midway through your own personal destruction.
As Nicole sipped her second glass of mulled wine, her phone rang and she answered it with a splitting grin across her face. Heather and Casey locked eyes as Nicole said, “You did what?” to whoever had called. “You made a reservation? Are you kidding?”
Melody mouthed, “With that Snow guy?” as she reached for a grape and placed it delicately on her tongue.
“I can be ready by seven, sure,” Nicole replied as her smile widened. “Just give me a hint. Is it fancy?”
“Yep. It’s the Snow guy,” Heather muttered toward Melody, who pressed her hand over her lips with excitement.
When Nicole got off the phone a moment later, the Harvey women at the table “oohed” and “aahed” to tease her. She blushed as she pressed her phone back into her pocket.
“I’m sorry to kill the mood,” Nicole said as she whipped her locks down her shoulders, embarrassed.
“What are you going to wear for your big date?” Melody asked.
Nicole rolled her eyes as both Heather and Casey interrupted to say, in unison, “It’s not a date!”
“Yes, that’s right,” Nicole exclaimed. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”
Casey leaned back in her chair and crossed her ankles as Nicole spoke excitedly about her upcoming “non-date” with Evan Snow and what she might wear to such an occasion. There was electricity behind her eyes that suited her softness well. It reminded Casey of years before, when Nicole and her youngest, Nate, had lived in Casey’s house for over a year. They’d called each other “roommates” and gotten into occasional fights about little things like leaving the laundry room light on or not sorting the trash correctly. Nicole had whittled away with each passing day, becoming smaller, passionless.
Now, that Nicole was a person of the past. These days, Nicole was a spitfire, apt to reach into the world and demand what she wanted from it.
Perhaps Casey could be that way again. Perhaps this divorce was a chance for a new start.