on, I guess. See where the road takes us. "
"Well. Yeah. " He tried to think of something else to say. "Theres plenty of money in the bank account. You can have your bills sent to me if you want. "
"Thanks, but Ive got a checkbook. Ill be fine. "
"Oh. Right. " He fell silent again, confused. It felt as if theyd become strangers already. "Well, good night, Birdie. "
"Good night, Jack. "
He hung up the phone and flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
We go on.
What else was there? At this point, there were only two choices available to them. Go forward or back.
Like her, he wasnt ready to go back.
SEVENTEEN
With each passing day, Elizabeth felt a little more confident. She could sleep alone now; that didnt sound like much. Certainly millions of women did it every night, but to her, a woman whod slept with the same man for all of her adult life, it was something.
She was no longer afraid to eat out alone. Yesterday, shed had breakfast at the Wild Rose, all by herself. She even tried tofu.
Today, she was determined to try painting again.
She grabbed her down coat off the hook by the front door and reached for the black canvas bag that held her painting supplies. She kept it filled with charcoal and paper, paint and brushes, and hope.
Outside, the air was crisp and cold. She crossed the porch and paused at the top of the stairs. The ocean was a smear of pastel gray and lavender. The grass in her yard looked like a patch of Christmas felt, tacked down here and there by the snow-white mushrooms that had sprouted overnight. A pair of cormorants flew overhead, circling lazily.
She flipped her hood up and walked across the squishy carpet of lawn, trying to avoid the pretty mushrooms. At the top of the beach stairs, she stopped and looked down.
It was high tide.
Disappointed, she sat down on the damp top step. White breakers bashed themselves against the rocky outcropping at the base of the cliff, spraying foam. Every now and again, she felt a sprinkle of spindrift on her face.
It reminded her of a time, years ago, when Daddy had taken her boating in the Florida Keys. Mr. Potter had offered Daddy the use of a speedboat to pay off a debt, and Daddy had thought, why not? how hard could it be to drive on water?--and off theyd gone.
It had been a disaster, of course. Every time they came into port, Elizabeth had had to lie on the bow and push them away from other boats. Bumper boating, hed called it.
Elizabeth smiled at the memory.
"Birdie?"
Elizabeth twisted around.
Meghann was standing beside her mud-coated black Porsche Boxster. Her designer jeans and black cashmere sweater were streaked by rain, and her hair was so frizzy it looked as if shed had shock treatments. "Are you aware that its raining?"
"Meg!" Elizabeth stood up, grabbed her bag, and ran. When Meg pulled her into a bear hug, it was almost impossible to let go.
"Dont you dare start crying. Now, get me under a roof somewhere, preferably with a drink in my hand. "
Elizabeth clutched Megs hand and led her through the gray yard.
"On the way here, I think I saw a fish swimming across the road. "
Laughing, Elizabeth led her into the house, then built a fire and got out her only alcohol. A box of wine.
Meghann looked at the box. "This is worse than I thought. You have clearly confused me with a local. Wait here. " She marched out of the house and returned a minute later with a suitcase, which she flopped onto the coffee table and opened. "Shoes come in boxes; wine comes in bottles. " She burrowed through her clothes and pulled out a bottle of tequila. "After that poor-me letter you sent, I figured we might need this. "