The Lake House (41 page)

Upstairs, her breath caught in her throat as she collapsed onto the chaise. A cloud of anger emanated from her trembling body.
They had it coming,
she thought. They’d stunk up her home and shut off her hot water heater. As she began to calm, the realization hit. She’d yelled at her neighbors and created a scene. Told them that she didn’t care about their lives.

How was she going to face Tommy and explain how ugly she’d been? He’d hate her. Guilt sat in her stomach like oily pizza as she finally faced the real reason she’d been upset: her conversation with George. The career she’d spent six years building was on the line, and she needed to solve that problem first, or in two years she wouldn’t have the money to pay for this place—that’s if they didn’t break the contract earlier.

She went into the office and picked up the phone. “Hi, Charlie. We need to meet. The
Globe
just took away the Sunday column.”

“I’m at the apartment. Come over,” he said. “I knew this was going to happen.”

“Meet me at Gina’s place instead. I’m going to be staying with her for a few days while I try to sort this out.”

A half hour later, Heather was trying to force a suitcase into the back of her car. “They don’t call you Mini for nothing,” she grumbled. Tom’s truck turned into the drive and her head fell forward onto the roof of the car.
Damn. Now he shows up.

He stepped down from the truck. “Where you headed?”

“I need to get away,” she said without looking at him.

“My thoughts exactly. I was hoping you might come to my place tonight. I’d like to cook you dinner.” He smiled hopefully. “Unless you’re leaving on a trip?”

“I can’t have dinner with you.” She tried to ram the suitcase into the car with her hip. He moved her aside, took the suitcase, and slid it into the front seat. Dirt and grease smudged his T-shirt and grimed his fingernails. He wiped at his clothing. “I’m a mess. I rushed here from work. On the way I blew a tire.”

“That stinks. I’m sorry you had a rough day,” she said curtly and walked around the car to the driver’s side.

He kicked at the dirt, hands in his pockets. “Heather, I don’t mean to be forward. I know I should’ve called first, but I’d really like to spend time with you. What’s wrong?” He walked toward her and brushed a strand of hair away from her downturned face.

If she looked into his beautiful eyes, if she continued to let him touch her, she might break in half. She knew he’d reject her the moment he knew what she’d done.

“I can’t do this right now,” she said, and she turned to open the driver’s side door when Victoria walked up and stopped at Tommy’s truck.

No,
Heather thought,
I can’t face her too. I have to get out of here.

“Heather, what’s going on? Did something else happen with the men?” He stroked her arm. When she didn’t respond, he leaned in to hold her.

“Please, just leave me alone,” she whispered.

“Wait a minute. What happened since our phone call last night?” He moved closer and grabbed her hand.

“I don’t think you and I fit. You visit your grandfather on weekends and are happy to sit home on a Friday night in an
elderly community. I travel the world. Nagog isn’t where I belong, and we both know it.”

“You could fit here if you tried.”

“No”—she shook her head—“I’ve been living someone else’s life. I need to make my dreams come true, and I can’t do that if I stay. I can’t even write here. It’s time for me to be realistic and return to Boston and get my career on track. I can’t be distracted right now. Please, just let me go.”

Tom stared at her, his face searching hers. “Okay. I don’t understand, but if that’s what you want, I’ll back off.” He took a step backward. “The sad part, Heather, is that I’m sure you’ll get everything you want. I just hope when you get there, you’re actually happy and don’t regret the family you lost.” He turned and walked toward his grandfather’s house.

You can’t lose what you never had,
she thought. She got in the car and started the engine. As she backed up, she glanced at Victoria and gave a small wave, then looked away. The word
home
echoed in her heart, but she boxed up her emotions and didn’t look back.

V
ictoria stormed into Molly’s kitchen. Her best friend sat at the table, her head in her hands. A half-mixed bowl of brownies had spilled on the floor and the thick brown batter was splattered against the cabinets, but Victoria didn’t notice.

“You won’t believe what I just heard,” she said urgently.

“What?” Molly said in a soft voice.

“I was walking over to see Heather and I overheard her conversation with Tommy. She’s going back to Boston! She practically
told Tommy he wasn’t good enough. That he’s too simple. She obviously doesn’t know anything about him! What he’s accomplished. What it took for him to get there.” Victoria paced. “All she does is push people away when they try to help her. I’m so mad.”

“That’s because she’s you.”

Victoria stopped. “Excuse me?”

“You’re angry with her because she’s you.” Molly laid her aching head down again.

“That’s crazy. I’m angry because she’s making the wrong choices.”

“No. You’re angry because Heather forces you to face the mistakes you feel you’ve made.” Molly rubbed her temples.

Victoria threw her hands up and rolled her eyes.

“I’ve watched you our entire lives,” Molly went on. “You’re my best friend. And there were times when I was jealous. All you had to do was walk into a room to be noticed. Your face was plastered on ads and billboards across America. You traveled the world, and when you decided to grace us with your presence I fell down like the queen was coming to visit. Everyone saw what you wanted them to see, your jet-setting and your fancy clothing. See any parallels yet?”

“I don’t need to listen to this.” Victoria walked toward the door.

“Stop right there! You
will
hear this, and at seventy-four it’s about time you do,” Molly yelled.

Shocked Victoria froze with her hand on the doorknob and turned.

“You want to know why I didn’t get angry like the rest of them? I saw
you
. When no one else looked for the truth, beyond
the glamour I saw the pain in your eyes—the fear of a lost lamb who also needed somplace to call home. Heather has that same look, and she doesn’t have anyone to turn to like you did.

“Victoria, she’s you. She fears that if she doesn’t achieve fame and success, she’s worth nothing. That was you after Joseph left for the war. All you ever heard was how beautiful and important you were. If you let yourself be weak or normal, if you showed people how afraid you were, then everyone would be let down. That fear got you an amazing life, a tremendous amount of heartache, and over fifty years lost with the man you love and the people who care about you.”

Victoria opened her mouth and Molly pointed her finger at her. “Don’t you interrupt me. I’ve listened to your opinion our whole lives and now you will hear mine. You’re angry at Heather, not because of her, but because of what you lost.”

Molly stood and held the sides of the chair for support. Then she walked to Victoria and took her friend’s hand. “Heather is not Annabelle. Let her go. You can’t show her that she’s going down the wrong path, just like I couldn’t show you.”

Victoria looked away.

“You don’t think that every time I saw you or heard your voice, I didn’t want to race in? That when you came to me battered and broken, I didn’t want to grab you and hold you in my arms until I knew you’d be safe from Devon?” Molly’s eyes watered and a tear dripped down her cheek. “You were so afraid of a normal life—somehow being a mother and a wife here in Nagog was failure. You don’t think I wanted to knock sense into that thick skull of yours, tell you that what you needed and wanted was to come home? You could’ve had both! Why do you think I ran to your rescue every time you fell? . . . Victoria, I couldn’t stop you
because it was your choice. Just like you can’t help Heather unless it’s what she wants.”

Victoria shook her head. “Why?”

“Because it’s her life. If you want to help her”—Molly stared into Victoria’s silver eyes—“tell her the truth. Stop trying to impress her with stories of Hollywood, like the two of you have so much in common because you lived grandly once, and tell her what really happened. The good, the bad, and the very ugly.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Victoria looked away.

“You never do. No one has been able to talk to you about any of it . . . especially not about Annabelle. You think that your example is what led Annabelle to do what she did.” She put her hand on Victoria’s shoulder. “You were an incredible mother and grandmother. That girl chose her path.

“Let Heather go. She’s a scared girl determined to make her mark. Only she can decide when to stop running. It took you over fifty years. Do you really think your friendship can change it for Heather?”

Victoria opened the door and ran across the beach, so entrenched in her own pain she didn’t notice Molly grabbing onto the chair as she lost her balance and fell to the floor. Victoria ran past Joseph’s house and onto the road. She hit the main street and continued to run, stumbling over roots as she cut through the woods. Moist leaves caused her feet to stumble and she fell, ripping her pants. Her heart raced, but it was the pain of past regret that tightened her chest. “You were supposed to take me,” she screamed to the sky. “Why didn’t you take me instead?”

H
eather climbed the three winding flights of stairs to Gina’s, and now Michard’s, apartment. As she reached the door, her purse slid from her shoulder and splashed her coffee cup, the brown liquid sloshing onto her jeans and burning her hand. “That gives new meaning to Starbucks going to your hips,” Gina said from the landing. “Come on in, I’ll get you a towel.”

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room in Gina’s North End apartment, Heather could see the yachts lit up in Boston Harbor. Overhead track lighting, placed to accent the colorful, modern paintings that graced the brick wall, gave the room the feel of a gallery. Red curtains met black couches, and a bar had been built into the back corner of the midsized room.

The scent of garlic filled the kitchen where Michard chopped and diced. He kissed Gina’s cheek and then nipped her neck as she wet a towel at the sink. She giggled and swatted at him with the towel before handing it to Heather. Heather tried to blot the coffee stain. She had a change of clothing in her suitcase, but it was in the car.

“Just borrow something of mine,” Gina said as she grabbed Heather’s hand and rushed her toward the bedroom.

When Gina bought her apartment, she’d built a dressing room in her large bedroom. The space included drawers, hanging racks, and inner compartments filled with silk, cashmere, designer denim, and leather. In a rainbow of colors, beads, and crystals, her shoes filled an entire wall.

“Grab anything you like,” Gina said.

“Your closet is the place of dreams,” Heather said.

“I thought I would hate sharing it with Michard, but there’s something comforting about seeing his clothing next to mine. I love living with him. I was so scared to do it, but now that he’s moved in, I’m just ready.”

“Ready for what?” Heather asked as she pulled on a simple green jersey dress.

“That looks amazing on you. You should keep it. I never wear it because it makes my butt look huge.” Gina fluffed Heather’s hair. “Charlie’s going to want you back when he sees you in that dress.”

“You know you look fabulous in everything,” Heather said as she stared in the mirror. “And Charlie and I are done romantically. This is a business meeting that needs to be done on neutral turf.”

“I know, but there’s nothing wrong with making a man want you.” Gina grabbed Heather’s hand. “I need to ask you something really important.” She paused. “I know you’re stressed and that this isn’t the time to bring it up, but . . .”

“Gina, what’s up?”

“It’s been hard not to tell you, but I didn’t want to upset you any more than you were—seeing that you were going through a breakup and hadn’t found anyone.”