Whisper Beach (29 page)

Van jumped up. “Uncle Nate, wait.” He kept walking. “I'm sorry. Please wait.”

He slowed. Finally stopped but didn't turn around. And Van ran to him. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” she said as his big arms surrounded her in a hug. “It just hurts too much.”

They stood silently. Then Nate gave her a final squeeze. “Ruth Singleton and Robbie were engaged when he went off to school. That was real love. I hope it's her. They were good for each other. Go see your father. Then you can decide what you want to think about him, if you never want to see him again or even acknowledge him. I'll accept that. And so will he.”

They started walking back toward the street.

“And what about the house?”

“Let me talk to Amelia. She'll know what's best to do.”

I
T WAS ALMOST
noon when Van ran upstairs to her room at Dorie's. It had been a long heartrending two hours. And she still hadn't decided what to do. Already her world was listing perilously to the side; another belief thrown overboard might tilt it over completely. And if it did, how would she ever right herself again?

Suze's door opened, and she followed Van across the hall. “What happened?”

“Where do I start? Come in, I've got to change. Joe is picking me up at twelve.”

“Ach. That's right; okay, give me the condensed version.”

“I told Nate about Gigi and the letter, not about Gigi and Joe in his truck. Old news and nobody's business. I offered the house, then we had a bit of an altercation and he said they didn't want it, but I think he'll come around.”

“An altercation?”

Van nodded, stopped pulling clothes out of the closet and sat on the bed. “He told me about the circumstances of my father and mother's marriage. It wasn't pretty. I guess they were both at fault, though I'm not ready to forgive him. I don't think I ever will be. He made my life a living hell, and I was just an innocent kid. But he was in love with someone else, maybe that Ruth woman that ran after us. But the families made him marry my mother because in one stupid night he got her pregnant.”

“Shite,” Suze said and sat down on the bed beside her.

“Is that Chaucerian? But basically, yes, history repeats itself, only I had the good sense to run.” Van pulled her knees up and hugged them. “No wonder he called me a whore. He was probably reliving his own past. Ugh. I'm just like my mother.” Her voice cracked.

Suze yanked her hair hard.

“Ouch.”

“No time for tears if Joe's picking you up. You're not like your mother or your father. You're you. And we all like you that way. You can wait up for me tonight and we can have a sob fest over the inequities of being women in the twenty-first century. We'll invite Dorie and Dana to join us.”

Van blew out a breath and stood up. “Thanks. I needed that. What do you think I should wear?”

Suze followed Van to the closet where she'd finally hung up clothes from her suitcase. “Wow, you have such great clothes, and you haven't worn any of these since you've been here.”

“I haven't exactly been anyplace that called for them. What about this?” She lifted out a swirling gauze sundress in the colors of the ocean.

“That's beautiful.”

“But it calls for heels, and I don't intend to ruin my good shoes
traipsing over fields. Besides, Joe said not to dress up. Which I think means really don't dress up.” She took out a pair of beige cropped pants and a silk tee. “I'll throw a lightweight jacket over it in case it's too informal. I seem to remember flowered shirtwaists, and jeans with creased pleats. But that was a long time ago.”

“I guess you won't be here to help me dress for La Party.”

“Didn't Dana offer to do your nails?” Van pulled off her shirt and slipped the tee over her head.

“Not a chance. I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but I'm not taking a chance with my fingers. I need them to type.”

“What time does the party start?”

“Fiveish, but I can push it until six and call it fashionably late. My mother won't like it, but in the words of a great English professor, ‘Tough.'”

“Okay, I'll ask Joe if we can get back by fiveish. It's only lunch and a look at the vineyards. Three and a half hours should do it.”

“What if it leads to something else? I can manage.”

“I'm sure you can. You just have to pay attention. And it won't lead anywhere else. We both have avocations.”

“You mean you're not interested?”

“I don't know. I'm not jumping into anything. I think we've all learned that doesn't pay. And I get the feeling he's not ready to take the plunge either. We'll just take it as it comes.”

Van was dressed and just putting on a touch of makeup when the downstairs bell rang.

“Gawd, it's just like going on a date,” Suze said in a falsetto.

“I bet that's a quote from somewhere.”

“Probably,” said Suze. “You don't have to hurry back. I'll survive.”

“I'll be back,” Van called as she jogged down the stairs.

“Now, that
is
a quote. Have fun.”

J
OE WAS STANDING ON THE PORCH WHEN
V
AN OPENED THE
front door.

“You could have just called my cell. You didn't have to get out of the truck.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So gallant,” she said and headed down the steps. She was trying to act more relaxed than she felt. She'd managed to push the idea of seeing the Enthorpes again to the back of her mind while everything else was happening, but now it seemed like one more thing that was threatening to derail her . . . could she possibly call this a vacation?

She realized Joe had gone ahead of her and was holding the truck door open.

“Are you sure?”

“Get in. They're expecting you. Granddad even said he'd put on a tie.”

“He didn't.”

“He did, but I told him it was going to be casual since I had ulterior motives.”

She looked at him suspiciously.

He leaned in through the door opening until his face loomed awfully close to hers. “I'm planning to hit you up for some free advice about the still room.”

She breathed out. “After plying me with good home-cooked food?”

“That's the plan.” He raised his eyebrows and closed the door.

She waited until they were pulling away from the curb before she said, “I don't know anything about wineries. You should have given me a heads-up, and I would have done a little research.”

“Well, there's plenty of time. I installed all the vats and things last winter on the outside chance the vines produce enough grapes for a trial run.”

“You didn't consider selling to another winery until your own vines get established?”

“Sure I considered it. But the whole point is to have something that is wholly Enthorpe.”

She looked at his profile. “Like the dairy was. That's neat.”

“Yep, if I don't lose my shirt, along with Drew's and Brett's.”

“You'll be successful.”

He glanced quickly over at her then back to the street. “Thanks. So what have you been up to besides revamping the Crab?”

She laughed. “Since yesterday?”

“No. Since we've hardly had time just to talk. So much weird stuff going on, and stuff being dredged up. And you letting me rattle on about the vineyard. You haven't really had a chance to talk about what you've been doing all this time . . . since you left.”

“You said you've seen my website. That's what I've been doing.”

“Just working?”

“Yeah. I spent some lean years while I worked my way through business school. Started the business and luckily it's really grown.”

“Wait. Start at the beginning. How did you get to business school?”

“I just . . . well, after I . . . after I was better, I got a job cleaning houses. I lucked out. It was an established firm, and I had a pretty regular schedule so when I'd saved up enough money, I registered for night classes.”

“But where were you living?”

“With some other girls who worked for the same service. They were from all over and some barely spoke English, but . . .” She smiled. “They were all very clean.”

As Joe returned her smile, his eyes softened and Van hurried on before he asked more. There had been eight of them living in a one-bedroom fourth-floor walk-up. The stairs to the apartment might as well have been Mount Everest after a full day of cleaning.

“Occasionally clients would ask me to do something extra like reorganize a closet, help them move some furniture. All after hours, so I made a little extra money. By the time I graduated, I had a nice little side business going and had managed to save some money. I was able to quit the cleaning job and do my own business full-time. I've been lucky.”

“You've been smart.”

“I guess. I really didn't have a choice—” She stopped. She'd had a choice once. And she'd blown it. She wouldn't have a choice like that again. “Anyway, the business has really taken off.”

“So much so that you're thinking about expanding.”

“Yeah. It seems like the natural thing to do.”

“What do you do for relaxation?”

“I don't.”

“Don't you ever take time off?”

“You're looking at it.”

Joe laughed. “I guess you haven't had any time to relax since you got back.”

“Nope. It's like I showed up and the kid pulled his finger out of the dike.”

“I was thinking it must be like one of those reality shows where they put a bunch of people in a house and wait for them to go berserk.”

“Just like it. And my staff are going to be so disappointed that I haven't gotten a tan.”

“You have another week.”

“I'll probably go back on Saturday once I see that the restaurant is up and running.”

Joe was silent. “Well, that's a few days.”

“Except that I have a lot of stuff to get through. Like the house and deciding whether to see my father. I feel sort of bad. I met with my uncle Nate this morning to discuss Gigi. He insisted on telling me the story of my parents.”

“And?”

“I won't forgive my father.”

“Surely Nate didn't expect you to.”

“No, but Joe, he told me things that, well, it doesn't make what he did right, but it helps me to understand.”

“So will you see him?”

“I don't know. Maybe it's better to leave things alone. What if all the old anger and bitterness boils over for either one of us? Maybe seeing him will just be awful. What if he . . . I don't know. It just seems like asking for trouble.

“And it's not something I can just run out and do between working on Dorie's kitchen and trying to get help for Gigi.

“A lot of stuff has happened that needed to happen. I get that.
Still a lot to take care of. Which reminds me, Suze is taking Jerry Corso to her mother's cocktail party tonight. I told her I'd try to be back around five to help her dress.”

“I heard. We can do that. I can blame her if I ask you to go out to the farm again and take a second look.”

Another glance toward her and back to the road.

The warning flutter in her chest told her not to make any promises. “Sure, that works.” And if lunch was a disaster, she could come up with some excuse. Or he could.

“So Suze is going out with Jerry. It's the biggest news of the year down at Mike's. Every one is giving him sartorial advice.”

Van laughed. “Yikes.”

“I wouldn't worry. He's a hometown boy, but he cleans up pretty good.”

Jerry wasn't the only one. Joe looked at ease and comfortable with himself. He was wearing clean jeans and a polo shirt that was wrinkle free. Van thought he'd probably dressed with extra care, not for Van but for his mother.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I'm looking forward to seeing everybody again. But, Joe, are you sure—”

“Don't even finish that thought. My mother is probably ironing the tablecloth. Matt has gone back to school, but Brett's coming with his wife. Did I tell you he got married?”

“No.”

“Nice girl. Wendy. You'll like her. And Dad will probably smother you with attention. So don't worry about what's going to happen today. It's all good.”

“But they're not expecting us to . . . you know, be back together.”

“I don't know. You're coming to lunch. Relax. Enjoy it; there
are no strings. You don't even have to look at the vines if you don't want to.”

“I want to.”

“Good. So it's all good.”

It was a relaxed drive out into the countryside. Joe talked more about the grapevines and how he came to be running Grandy's Marina. Van told him about Gigi and Suze's letter. “Suze and I apologized to Dana and asked her to come back. But I haven't confronted Gigi yet. I don't know how strong she is right now. I did tell Uncle Nate.”

“I never got why everyone always tried to take care of Gigi.”

“Funny, Dana and Suze said the same thing.”

“Because Gigi took advantage of you. All of you but particularly you. Everybody was aware of it.”

“I wasn't. Being back, though, I see that we didn't do her any favors by always shielding her.”

“Gigi is . . . Gigi. And not your responsibility. She never was. And she tried to step into your place when you left. I didn't like her. She took advantage of Clay Daly, the poor jerk. That was his fault with all that stubborn macho stuff. No wife of his was going to work. She was going to stay at home to raise the kids. And it's just what Gigi wanted. He stopped coming to Mike's. He just dropped us. Probably because he was working two jobs to keep Miss Princess at home.

“Then with the hurricane, Gigi just packed up the kids and went home where it was safe and comfy and there was someone who could pay attention to her while Clay—well, it was too much for him. He lasted a couple of months, then I guess when it became apparent that Gigi wasn't interested in finding temporary lodgings, he moved out and went back to his property.”

“Jeez. Is that the way everyone feels?”

“Mainly that Clay screwed up and didn't take advice or ask for help. And he paid the ultimate price.”

“Nate and Amelia are worried about her, but they seem unwilling to do anything serious about it. Like send her to a therapist.”

“They'd rather let her sponge off them? For how long? Some things you just can't fix, Van.”

“I know. I really do . . . And Nate wants me to go see my father.”

“Yeah, you're batting two for two for awkward meetings.” He reached over and cupped the back of her head. “But we forgive you.”

“But will I forgive him? I won't. I can't. I wasn't thinking straight when I ran to you yesterday. I just needed to be someplace . . .”

“Safe where someone understood?”

“Yes. Thank you. But I've been thinking since then. Nate said my father had gotten a scholarship to art school and wanted to marry this girl, and then he got my mother pregnant during a one-night stand.” She sighed.

“He's not the first guy who had to marry a girl he knocked up. Men aren't the brightest in that situation. And in his particular case, I can't complain.” He gave her a quick smile.

“Sounds like a familiar situation in our household.”

“Van, don't. It was just a screwup people make all the time.”

“That's why he threw me out, because it was happening to him all over again. Maybe he even thought I was expecting him to take care of me. But I wasn't. I didn't expect anyone to take care of me.”

“You never did, Van.”

And she still didn't.

“He was and is an artist, Joe. His paintings are good, filled
with emotion—not the kind of emotion that he meted out at home. But beauty and softness. And he's living with some woman named Ruth,” she added on a harsher note.

“So, are you going to see him, or not?”

“I don't know. I just remember the horrible things, but when you look at his paintings, you can't imagine the artist as anything but sensitive and caring. It's a little too much to handle. An artist. That's what I just can't wrap my mind around.”

As they left the traffic behind and turned onto a two-lane county road, Van opened the window. The air was hot and dusty but it smelled so familiar, and she gratefully breathed it in, dust and all.

They came to the gate that used to mark the Enthorpe dairy but was now just an empty gaping clearing. Farther in the distance, Van could see the roofs of townhouses where once Enthorpe cows had grazed.

“Oh, Joe.”

“Yep, you get used to it after a while. Sort of.”

They drove on in silence. A few minutes later they turned onto a narrower road. Joe reached over and squeezed her hand then let go.

She smiled over at him. And she thanked the fates that the boy she had once loved had grown into the sensitive yet strong man sitting beside her.

Everyone was standing on the porch when the truck pulled to a stop in the drive of the sprawling farmhouse.

“The welcoming committee,” Van breathed.

“They're harmless, and they love you.”

Joe started to get out of the truck, but Van grabbed his arm. How could they still love her after she deserted Joe? What were they expecting from her now? Suddenly she had way too many
questions that she should have been asking on the drive out instead of talking about Gigi and her father and other things that didn't require immediate attention.

“Van!” Mrs. Enthorpe was already hurrying toward them.

“What do I call her?” Van whispered urgently to Joe.

“Just call her Mom, like you always did.”

“But—”

“Stop worrying.”

Van didn't have time to worry further. As she got out of the truck, Mrs. Enthorpe wrapped both arms around her and hugged. “You look wonderful. Big-city life must agree with you.”

“Oh, move over, honey, and give the girl some breathing room.” Mr. Enthorpe, big and tall and lanky, bent over to kiss Van's cheek. “Come on inside. We got the air conditioner on.”

They turned toward the house. Granddad Enthorpe was waiting on the porch. “Well, it's about time you came to visit an old man. Come on, girl, it's hot as blazes out here.” Behind him Joe's brother Brett nodded and introduced Van to his wife, Wendy, as Granddad swept Van past them.

Inside was exactly as it had been, except for a new set of living room furniture, which was all color coordinated except for Granddad's recliner, even though it was worn and old and clashed with the rest. It was an act of family. Maybe stubbornness, maybe love, but familial. Van always felt that coming here.

She'd basked in that feeling, felt safe and nurtured, like she belonged. Today she only felt unbelievably sad. She was no longer a part of this wacky, boisterous, arguing, scrapping, kidding, laughing family.