Page 36 of Second Dance
My heart sank. “No, really?”
“It was awful. Annie was the one who found him lying on the bed when she and Delphine came home from school and work. Annie thought he was asleep and went running into the kitchen to ask Delphine if he was sick. Of course, he was already gone by then.”
“Had he struggled with depression, or did something happen?”
“Depression. Debilitating. He’d stopped working and spent most days in the basement tinkering with his model ships. Yet, somehow, none of us thought he would do what he did. In hindsight, all the signs were there. But Delphine kept a lot of it to herself, not really telling us how bad he’d gotten. We were all devastated for her and Annie. They’ve done remarkably well, considering. We were most concerned about Annie. She was so young to have to go through all of that. But we banded together and made sure she was taken care of when Delphine was going through the worst of it.”
“She’s clearly very strong,” I said.
“Yes, she is. But she also has a clear sense of what’s right and what’s wrong, which made it really hard for her to understandhow he could leave them. She had a lot of anger and shame, questioning her own part in it too. But she and Annie have gotten a lot of therapy. We’ve all learned a lot, actually, about the beast that depression really is. How it lies to a person.”
Across the street was Gillian’s dance and Pilates studio, windows dark. I stopped to get a better look.
“Have you always been in that location?” I asked.
“Yes, from the beginning. I was able to buy the building, thank goodness, so it’s a little nest egg for my future.”
I marveled at how well Gillian had taken care of herself and Grace, while staying true to her passions at the same time. “You’re remarkable.”
She laughed, her curls bouncing in the slight breeze from the sea. “Not really. My sister and brother-in-law were just really smart about how they laid everything out if they were to pass. As if they knew.”
We continued along, stopping briefly outside of the closed flower shop. Petals left behind from earlier displays peppered the sidewalk.
“Esme owns the flower shop. She and her two kids live above.” Gillian gestured toward the second floor, where warm light spilled through gauze curtains. We continued on, as Gillian told me about Esme’s divorce. “We had no idea how abusive he really was to her and the kids. Robbie had it the worst. He has a genius I.Q. And he’s on the spectrum, so he doesn’t see the world in quite the same way as the other kids. Esme has always been his biggest advocate, but her ex-husband was the opposite. He wanted Robbie to be like him, and it was never going to happen. When Esme finally kicked him out, she told us the ugly truth. That was the same year Delphine lost her husband and Lila’s husband left her for an intern. It was a terrible year, but it made us even closer. Seraphina’s like me. She’s been single sincethe boyfriend jetted when he found out she was pregnant with Tyler.”
“Seraphina’s the writer?” I asked, trying to get all the details straight about her friends.
“Yes. Do you want to see her books?” Gillian pointed to the Ink & Anchor just up the block.
“Sure.”
“Have you been in the bookstore yet?” I asked.
I shrugged, feeling sheepish. “I’m an ebook kind of a guy. But my kids love real books.”
Gillian led me over to stand in front of the window display, pointing at the book perched on a small easel. “That’s Seraphina’s latest.The Moonlit Masquerade. Isn’t it gorgeous?”
The cover featured a masked woman in a sapphire gown, circa 1800s.
“She writes contemporaries too, but her historical romances are my favorite,” Gillian said. “All those rules of convention and class add so much drama.”
“You have cool friends,” I said.
“I know. I’m proud of every one of them too.”
“Should we go inside?” I asked. “Maybe choose a book for the kids?”
“Yes, for sure. The bookstore was owned by the same woman for decades,” Gillian said as we stepped toward the front door. “Everyone loved Mrs. Flynn. Her son took over after she passed away last year. Mrs. Flynn was a total character and great with the customers whereas her son’s more buttoned up. He was in the Navy, I think. But he has the same uncanny ability to pick just the right book if you tell him what you like.”
I held the door open for her, and we slipped inside to the clean, crisp smell of newly printed paper and the slightly plasticky scent from book covers. The shelving stretched nearly to the ceiling, each one crowded with books, with signsindicating genre. A scattering of tables displayed new releases and staff favorites.
On one of them sprawled a cream-colored cat, stretched to his full length across a row of paperbacks. Gillian leaned close to whisper, “That’s Poe. He just showed up one day and refused to leave.”
Toward the back, the shelves narrowed into smaller alcoves. Gillian touched my arm and steered me toward one. “The romance section,” she said with a smile.
That gave me way too many ideas of what I’d love to do with her in one of those private spots.
Before I could think more about that, a broad-shouldered man approached. He wore a pale blue button-down, sleeves pressed sharp at the cuffs, and dark slacks that fit just right. Not a speck of dust on him, not a wrinkle out of place. His shoes were polished, his dark hair combed neatly back with just enough silver to suggest he’d seen a thing or two.
