Page 51 of Look on the Bright Side

“Well,” said Lark. “I have to get to bed. My shift starts at seven.” She stood up, kissed her mom, then gave Joy a hug. “Connery? My place or yours tonight?” The little dog leaped into her arms. “Guess I have custody till the morning, then. Good night, ladies.”

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she thought she saw tears on her mother’s cheeks. “You okay, Mommy?” she asked from the doorway.

“Just fine, honey. Just fine.”

TEN

ELLIE

“Okay, she’s inside,” Joy said, peering out at the guesthouse. “So you found the iPad, saw that he was messaging her, and then what?”

Joy had been nothing but wonderful from the second Ellie had walked through the door four hours ago. To her horror, Ellie had burst into tears. She never cried! All the suppressed rage and fear and shock and hurt erupted out of her the minute Joy said “I’m so glad you’re here!” and Ellie found herself leaning on the counter, sobbing.

Joy hugged her against her substantial chest, made sympathetic noises and showed her to her room. “I figured something had happened when you called,” she said. “I’m sorry, hon.”

Hon. From a woman she barely knew. Joy was an oddity—this flamboyantly dressed woman with huge false eyelashes and heels who rarely was seen anywhere but the market. She’d been included at the holidays—Lark had told them she didn’t have family—but she and Ellie had only exchanged pleasantries.

Ellie managed to get out a strangled “Thank you, Joy,” but Joy waved it off.

“Take a bath, get in your jammies and I’ll make us a charcuterie board. I can’t cook much, but I can slice, and I loaded up on cheese and stuff at the Wellfleet Marketplace. I also got chocolate, just in case. Take your time, honey. If you want to talk, sometimes it’s easier to tell a stranger, and if you want to keep it to yourself, no hard feelings.”

It felt like she was in a dream…a horrible dream set in the prettiest room she’d ever seen. Hydrangea blue walls, a giant white bed, a view of the sunset, a floral-printed chair and ottoman. The bathroom had a soaking tub and a blue-tiled shower with myriad controls and bottles of expensive soap, shampoo, conditioner, moisturizer.

When was the last time she’d taken a bath? The old claw-foot tub in the kids’ bathroom at home was scarred and chipped—but oh, the happy times the kids had had in there, like otters splashing and playing when they were little. The tub in the primary bath was plastic and not as deep. They’d been meaning to replace it for twenty years now.

What was she doing here? And how could she ever go back, knowing what she knew? She missed Gerald. She hated Gerald. She wanted to go back in time.

Instead, she turned on the faucets of the giant tub and did what Joy had told her to do. And when she came downstairs and saw the wine and the food and Joy sitting there like a peacock version of the Buddha in her bright clothes, all sympathy and kindness, the story had poured out.

Nutshell version, Gerald had once maybe dated this woman in high school, this Camille Dupont person. In the first few messages, they’d revisited their Nauset High School days. Camille had had a crush on him. He’d had one on her. They’d gone to a football game. There’d been some unspoken misunderstanding regarding someone named Lonnie. Too bad. They’d never gone out again.

Then came the what have you been up to since then? conversation. Camille had gone to college at the University of Alabama and become a geochemist. Got her PhD and worked in the oil and gas field. Lucrative? It was, LOL. Recently retired. Married once, long divorced. One grown son who lived in Seattle and worked for Amazon. No grandchildren. Had lived in Houston, Nashville, Santa Fe and now had a house on the coast of Maine. Couldn’t resist the lure of New England.

That was as far as they got before Lark had come in. It felt so good to tell someone. Reading the messages in her office all day, the door locked, had been a surreal sort of hell. She’d barked at Meeko not to interrupt her and turned on some music so he wouldn’t hear her crying. Sitting here on Joy’s giant L-shaped couch, Ellie felt both comforted and furious at the same time.

“She sent him the link to her house,” Ellie said, passing the iPad to Joy. “Four thousand square feet. Who lives alone in a house like that?”

“I do,” Joy said mildly, clicking through the pictures. “But no offense taken. Wow. That’s really pretty.”

“I know. It’s pretty much my dream house. Which I hate her even more for. It sold for one point eight million dollars. Is that what she wants Gerald to know? That she’s loaded? I guess raping the earth for a giant gas and oil company paid well.”

“My last husband was in oil, too,” Joy said. “Literally more money than he could count.” She passed the iPad back to Ellie, then poured them both more wine. “What else did they talk about?”

“Me. Apparently, my heroic nurse husband is ignored by his workaholic wife.” Her voice choked off.

“You? Come on! Lark always talks about how happy you two are.”

“I thought we were. Stupid of me, I guess.”

Yes. The DMs told a very different story than the life Ellie thought she and Gerald had. As for Gerald, well. Ellie learned quite a bit about him, let’s just say that. Gerald had had a very rich and rewarding career as a nurse. Heroic? Well, if Camille said so, that was very sweet. (She gagged when she first read that.) All nurses were heroes, Gerald replied. Yes, he’d wanted to become a nurse practitioner. But because of his wife’s career, there hadn’t been the time.

“I’m the one who wanted him to go back to school,” she told Joy, dashing rage tears out of her eyes. “He told me he didn’t want to be away from me and the kids more than he already was. It wasn’t because of my career!”

“Men lie a lot,” Joy said, taking another piece of cheese and nibbling on it.

“So I’m very talented, he said. Just consumed with my work. I have no time for him.”

Joy rolled her eyes. “What an ass.”

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