On Second Thought(25)

"House salad for me, thank you," Eloise said. "Dressing on the side, please."

Our waiter nodded and left.

From where we sat, we could see the golf course, acres and acres of  unnatural, perfect green. Nathan had sponsored a charity golf event. I  wasn't sure how golf charities worked, but he had one, and it was  supposed to have been in August. Who would take over? Who cared?

"How's Na-Mr. Coburn?" I asked.

"He's...he's struggling," Eloise said. There was a pause. "And how are you holding up?"

I took a shaky breath. "It's hard," I said.

"We have to be strong."

I nodded, pressing my lips together.

How could she do this? How could she even be upright? "Eloise," I said,  reaching across the table to hold her hands, "I'm so sorry you have to-"

She squeezed my hands hard, then pulled back. "Please, Kate. Not here, my deah."

My hands stayed across the table for a moment, like dead fish. "Of course. You're right."

Everyone grieves differently, the saying went. And I knew Eloise was  devastated inside. Her boy. Her baby. He was everything a person could  want in a son. He'd never disappointed her...well, not that I knew of.  Except, perhaps, in marrying me.

"Have you seen any of your friends, deah? Or your sister or brother?"

I took a deep breath. "My sister calls every day. Otherwise, no. Not yet."

I'd had a thousand texts and emails, cards and phone messages, though. I  don't know what to say was a popular theme. Also, Call me if you need  anything.

Nothing from Paige. That really stung. We'd been friends for so long.

Daniel the Hot Firefighter had emailed. Just a Thought you might like  this and a link to a BuzzFeed article about why men shouldn't own cats.  #4 had been because they'll try to see if the cat's head will fit into  their mouths with a GIF of someone doing just that, and I'd laughed out  loud, startling myself, startling Hector into a rapid swim across his  bowl.

Otherwise, it had been mighty quiet in Nathan's house. Mighty quiet. I was considering getting a dog.

My stomach roared again.

"You're not eating well, are you?" Eloise asked.

I shook my head, swallowing, forcing my throat muscles past the rusty spike that seemed to be wedged there.

"Well. We cahn't have that. You'll have a good lunch."

But when lunch finally came, I could barely get down a mouthful.

I did it. For the baby's sake, no matter what those ignorant tests said.  Chewed and chewed and chewed. Swallowing was an act of will.

This was my life now.

"Mr. Coburn and I have decided to go ahead with our anniversary party,"  Eloise said. She ate the European way, fork in the left hand, knife in  the right. "And of course we'd love for you to do the photos."

"Sure. Of course."

"We cahn't just abandon the charity."

"That's very...good of you."

I'd be going to the party without Nathan. His parents got fifty years; we didn't get one.

Until April 6, I'd had a civilized relationship with my in-laws. Nathan  Senior often called me Karen, and finding things Eloise and I had in  common had been nearly impossible. We didn't read the same books; she  didn't watch TV or go to the movies. Once we'd exhausted the topic of  how perfect Atticus and Miles were, we were pretty much done.         

     



 

Brooke had said all the right things when Nathan and I were dating, and  she urged her kids to call me Aunt Kate after we got married. She'd  invited me to one of those parties where guests buy jewelry made by  African schoolgirls, and I sat there, trying to be open and positive and  interested in everyone, buying lots of jewelry I wouldn't wear.

Before April 6, my still-shaky place in the family had been natural,  normal. All I had to do was be pleasant and hang in there, and  eventually, I'd belong.

Now I'd forever be a reminder of their lost son and brother, forever  included in family events that would be steeped in grief for the rest of  our lives.

How did people survive this?

I can't believe you abandoned us like this, Nathan. Pretty selfish, don't you think?

He didn't respond.

"Let's do this again next week, shall we?" Eloise said when the  interminable lunch was finally over, and I couldn't help flinching.

"Sure!" I said. "That would be great!"

The food sat heavily in my stomach as I drove home. Eloise followed  behind me the entire way, which made my driving jerky and uncertain.  Their house was less than a mile from Nathan's place. Our place, I  meant. Mine, actually.

I pulled into the driveway. Someone was standing on my doorstep, surrounded by suitcases. Someone holding a little dog.

"Ainsley?"

"Eric and I broke up," she said, and my mouth fell open. "Dumped me,  cleaned out our account and told me to move. Can I stay with you for a  few days?"

"Yes! Of course, come on in."

The joy that flooded through me was shameful. But thank God, I wouldn't have to be alone in this house another day.





Chapter Eleven

Ainsley

As Kate helped me lug in my three suitcases, as Ollie charged through  the exciting new space, a corner of his blanket clutched in his mouth, I  seemed to be stricken with verbal diarrhea, hoping desperately that she  didn't mind me showing up here. For a flash of a second as I drove  over, I'd forgotten that Nathan was dead, and in that flash, I felt such  relief... Nice Nathan, who really seemed to like me, would definitely  be on my side.

But he was dead. And his death was why Eric decided to move to Alaska (the state's name now imbued with dripping sarcasm).

"Yeah, so he dumped me Friday. I thought he was going to propose, but  no, and the thing is, the lobster was so good, and all night long, I  kept thinking about it. And the ring, Kate! The ring was so sparkly! I  found it in his underwear drawer the night of-um, a few weeks ago.  Anyway, no proposal. He dumped me, so I figured I'd do exactly what he  said, right? He wants me out, I'm out."

"Good for you, Ainsley." Rather than the typical expression of slight  concern whenever she saw me (and a little condescension), she looked  genuinely pleased.

I lifted the heavier suitcase so as not to scratch the floors. "I think  if I just leave him alone for a few weeks-um, or days-" she doesn't want  you here for weeks, dummy! "-he'll come to his senses. Wow, this place  is beautiful! Eric always had a woody for it. I swear to God, he wanted  to be Nathan."

Who died on your stupid granite countertop. Shut up, Ainsley.

Kate just looked at me. "Well, come on upstairs and pick your bedroom, okay?"

We went up the stairs and down the long, white hallway, which Ollie was  using as a racetrack, filled with glee. I looked in the first bedroom.  "This will be fine," I said.

"No, no, take your time. Look around. The corner room has a great tub.  But this one has a skylight. And I love those red pillows." She paused,  pushing her hair back. Her shoes didn't match, I noticed, and my heart  twisted.

"They're all beautiful. I really appreciate this."

"Nathan has-had-great taste."

"Absolutely! That's for sure. I still can't believe you actually live here. You're so lucky."

Ah, yes. Just what to say to the grief-stricken widow. Maybe I should  write for Hallmark Cards. Your husband may be dead, but think of the  extra closet space you'll have! "I...I meant I love this house."

"I know. Don't worry. You don't have to walk on eggshells." She gave me a  rueful smile, and I felt a twinge of little-sister hope. Then again,  I'd felt that twinge once a year for my entire life.

"Thanks. We'll have a great time." And there I went again, saying the exact wrong thing. "I should shut up now. Sorry again."

She laughed a little. "It's okay. You're a breath of fresh air."

"Are you hungry?" I asked.         

     



 

"Um...yeah. I think so. I just had lunch with Eloise, but I didn't eat much."

"I'll cook us dinner! Okay?"

"There's lots of food in the freezer. Well, you know that already. Thank  you, by the way. For coming by and organizing stuff." She swallowed  with difficulty, it seemed. "Anyway, get settled in, and I'll pour you  some wine and you can tell me everything. It'll be nice not to think  about...my own stuff."

"Kate." I hesitated, then gave her a hug. "He was the nicest guy in the world."

"You know what's funny?" she said, her voice husky. "You knew him longer  than I did." She gave me a brisk pat on the back, then pulled away.  "Check out all the rooms and pick your favorite."

She went down the hall to her own bedroom, and I caught a glimpse of her  giant bed. My heart wobbled with grief. Thirty-nine years old, and a  widow.

And here Eric was having a midlife crisis. If anything, Nathan's death  should've taught him to cherish the people around him, the ass-hat.

This Jack London phase wasn't going to last. Really. Eric shuddered at  those shows about the Alaskan mountain men on the Discovery Channel. If  he made it out of New York, I'd be stunned. But right now, I was  furious. I deserved to be married. I wanted that ring, that piece of  paper, that Mrs. title in front of my name, and I'd earned it.