Darcy felt as if her husband had punched her in the belly. “But I don’t want to sell my grandmother’s house!”
“You told me it’s old and in need of renovation. Why would you want to keep it?”
“We could spend some of the summer there. Summers are—”
“We’ll need a base for our agency there, not a decrepit old house.”
“How can you say it’s decrepit? You haven’t even seen it—”
Boyz rolled over her words with his own. “You told me the house is in a residential area. We’ll have to sell the house. With the proceeds of the sale, we could buy something in the business district.” Finally Boyz noticed the pain and anger in Darcy’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Darcy. I apologize. But please understand, the real estate boom in Nantucket makes it the perfect opportunity. I want to forge my own territory, my own kingdom, before my father or sisters do.”
Yet in the three rushed years of their marriage, Boyz didn’t get to Nantucket.
Only now did Darcy realize that it wasn’t Boyz’s overwhelmingly packed calendar or the family’s tradition of going to Lake George. It was also that Darcy hadn’t encouraged Boyz to visit the island, to see her grandmother’s house and the island itself. For him, it would be only real estate, one more property to value in monetary terms and sell.
She wondered if in the past few days Boyz had strolled around the block from his rented house to survey Penny’s house—Darcy’s house now—to estimate how much he could have made on its sale. She’d bet he had.
A light went on in the Rushes’ attic. A few moments later, Bessie Smith’s raspy voice lilted out into the night as she sang simply, with shrewd humor, “A good man is hard to find.”
Amen, sister, Darcy thought.
10
Star Trek Beyond was out, and the Dreamland Theater was packed. Darcy and Nash had found seats on the upper deck, and while the last stragglers hurried in, Darcy spotted the faces of friends and waved to them. Jordan was there with Lyle, and no child, which was probably the first time they’d left Kiks with a sitter. Beverly, Darcy’s boss, was there with her husband, and Angelica and Lars, and Gage Wharton with a woman Darcy didn’t recognize.
Susan Brueckner was there with her three sons. Otto wasn’t. Neither was Autumn.
It was a weekday. Boyz was probably in Boston, working, leaving Autumn alone; and even though Darcy scolded herself, she searched the crowd for Willow. And there she was, on the other side of the aisle and the end of a row, cuddling with Logan. Darcy felt a twinge of worry about the teenager. And she realized this meant that Autumn had an empty house for a couple of hours if she wanted to entertain visitors. Like Otto.
Really, Darcy was ashamed of herself. She didn’t run the world; she didn’t have the right to interfere or even a way to interfere. If Otto and Autumn had an affair, fine. But if Logan was having sex with Willow…if she was, it still was none of Darcy’s business. As the lights dimmed, she forced herself to concentrate on the show.
The movie was loud and explosive. She walked home, holding hands with Nash, delighting in the summer warmth, the whispering of leaves as a salty sea breeze stirred them. Many of the shops were still open, and lights were on in all the houses on Main Street. A line from Natalie Merchant’s song, “These are days we’ll remember” played through Darcy’s mind as she felt the warmth of Nash’s hand, his strong presence next to her, the wind teasing her hair, and smelled the sweet fragrance of all the flowers blooming in all the yards. If she could capture this particular moment and contain it in a jar, she could keep it until she was an old lady like Penny had been, and then she’d open the jar and all this would drift out, not just a mental memory but the sensations, the gentle night, her youth and strength welling powerfully inside her, her anticipation of being in bed with Nash….
They entered her house. Darcy shut the door behind her. Nash put his hands around her waist and drew her against him, kissing the top of his head.
“Nash,” she said, “could we talk? Just talk…don’t get scared, this isn’t about us—I’m not going to go all mushy and possessive on you. I’d like your advice on something.”
“Sure.” Nash released his embrace. “What’s up?”
Darcy headed into the living room, clicking on table lamps here and there. “Want some coffee? Wine?”
“Not yet.” Nash relaxed in one of the club chairs.
Darcy sat across from him on the sofa. “I didn’t tell you before…in one way it’s not that big a deal, at least not part of it, but part of it has really gotten under my skin. Um, okay.” She changed positions, crossing and uncrossing her legs. “Remember I told you I was married before?”