“Here’s the plan for the main floor.”
He pushed the paper toward her and oriented it so the front door was closest to her. She leaned in and traced the various rooms. Waiting area, front reception desk, back office, lunch room, three treatment rooms, supply space.
He talked about windows and light, the materials they would use. Decisions would have to be made on paint colors and fixtures.
“We did the remodeling at Doc Harrington’s office a few years back,” he told her. “Have you met him?”
“Yes. I’ll be working there until my office is done. I start Monday.”
“Look around when you get a chance. We did some custom built-ins the nurses love. We can do them for you, too.”
She looked at Wade. “The most important thing to remember is that I’m dealing with children. I want them to be comfortable. Bad enough if they’re sick—the environment shouldn’t scare them, too. So bright, friendly colors.”
He leaned back and grinned. “Now you sound like my sister-in-law.” He motioned to the house next door. “Boston.”
“Oh, right. Because Zeke is her husband. I met her earlier this past week. She’s nice.”
“She is. And an artist. Maybe the two of you can talk about what makes one color more friendly than another.”
She studied him, aware that his eyes had crinkled in amusement. “You’re mocking me.”
“Some. We’ve got a little time until we’re ready for paint.”
“I’ll be sure to get my decision made in the next couple of weeks.”
They talked logistics—what walls would be torn down, how messy everything would be. Wade assured her she could live in the house through all the construction, and she nearly believed him. She confirmed delivery dates for various pieces of equipment and gave him a list of the fixtures and appliances she’d already picked out.
“I’ll give you an update most evenings,” he told her. “I’m generally the last guy out at the end of the day.”
“A boss who works,” she murmured. “Impressive. But aren’t the long hours hard on your family?”
“They’re used to it.”
She sighed silently. So much for subtly trying to get information on whether or not he was married. The average sixteen-year-old had more dating experience than her. All she wanted to know was if Wade was as good as he looked. Oh, and if he was married, of course.
Not that she wanted a relationship. Or anything else. She’d moved to the island with the idea that she would spend the rest of her life celibate. Eventually she wouldn’t miss being with a man. After all, how could she long for what she’d never really had? She and Matt had never had what could be called a wild sex life, although right now something other than lights-out, every other Saturday night, sounded kind of fun. Not that she was going to say that out loud. Or even think it. That part of her life was over. She’d moved on. Like to a higher spiritual plane.
“Andi?”
She blinked and realized Wade was staring at her. “Hmm?”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. A little punchy from my nights with a bat.”
“A challenge for anyone.” He rose. “Come on. I’ll show you where I was thinking we should put the kitchen.”
Sadly, that was the most exciting invitation she’d had in recent memory.
* * *
Sunday morning, Deanna paused at the top of the stairs. She could hear the laughter and conversation coming from the kitchen. It was always this way. No matter his work schedule, Colin made sure he was home on Sunday. He got up early and made breakfast for the whole family. Sometimes it was omelets and other times pancakes. Once he’d made scones from scratch.
The girls joined him, sitting at the stools by the counter, talking about their weeks. Madison and Lucy helped with the preparation, and Audrey kept track of the twins.
Deanna had never been a fan of the Sunday ritual. She didn’t like Colin cooking. He always made such a mess. The man used every pot and pan they owned. There were splatters and spills, dishes piled in the sink. But what she disliked most was the way the morning felt like all of them against her. Despite the fact that she was the mother and the one who cooked every other meal, she’d never felt comfortable in her own kitchen on Sunday morning.
Now she hovered, not sure whether to join them or not. She and Colin had been avoiding each other for the past two days. He’d slept on the couch, a fact that annoyed her. She’d so wanted to be the one to kick him out of their bedroom, but he hadn’t given her the chance. Now he was acting as if nothing else had changed.
She supposed for him it hadn’t. He’d delivered his ultimatum and then had walked away, abandoning her.
She rubbed her fingers together, aware of her dry skin, the cracked knuckles. She was washing her hands too much. Worse, it wasn’t helping. The familiar ritual provided no comfort at all.
Shame crawled over her. Shame for being weak, shame for not being in control of her family and her husband. If people knew, they would laugh at her. She wouldn’t belong anywhere.
That wasn’t going to happen, she told herself. She was strong and determined. She’d survived more difficult circumstances than this. Somehow she and Colin would come to terms. They always had in the past. He was in one of his moods. He would get over it. As for the girls, she was their mother and nothing would change that.
She raised her chin and started down the stairs. As she approached the kitchen, the voices got louder. There was a burst of laughter. Deanna faked a smile, then walked in through the wide doorway.
Colin stood at the stove. The twins and Audrey were at the counter. Lucy was pouring juice and Madison stood by her dad.
As one they all turned to look at her. The three younger girls’ happy faces took on an expression of guilt. Lucy looked as if she wanted to crawl into a cupboard while Madison glared at her. Colin was impossible to read.
Silence pushed out the laughter. Deanna glanced from one daughter to the other, not seeing any sign of welcome. Her fingers curled into her palms as she told herself to stand her ground. Colin turned his attention back to the stove and flipped several pancakes.
“These are almost done,” he said.
“I’ll get the syrup,” Madison told him.
Deanna stood in the doorway, invisible and unwanted, as memories of previous Sunday mornings crowded her vision. It was always like this, she thought, shocked by the realization. The silence when she walked into the room. The obvious signs that she should simply go away. That she didn’t belong.
Tears burned. She blinked them away, turned on her heel and walked out. In the hallway, she paused, not sure where she should go. Her chest tightened and she hurried up the stairs. Once in her bedroom, she carefully closed and locked the door, then retreated to the bathroom, where she turned on the hot water and reached for the soap.
* * *
Sunday afternoon Andi sat on her battered and slightly dangerous front porch. She was careful to avoid loose boards and splinters, but the day was too beautiful to stay inside. Plus, she’d run out of things to do in her tiny living space. She was unpacked, bat-free and waiting until she started work in the morning.
Boston rounded the corner of her house, saw her and waved. Andi waved back.