“Me?” Amanda blinked. “You think I’m self-centered?”
“Of course,” her mother said. “Everyone is, to a degree. I’m just saying that you take it a bit too far sometimes.”
Amanda stared across the table, too stunned to speak. That her mother, of all people—her mother! — was suggesting this only fueled her outrage. In her mother’s world, other people had never been anything but mirrors. She chose her next words carefully. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about this.”
“I think it is,” her mother responded.
“Because I didn’t tell you about Tuck?”
“No,” she answered. “Because I think it has something to do with the problems you’re having with Frank.”
Amanda felt herself flinch inside at the comment, and it took everything she had to keep her tone and expression steady. “What makes you think I’m having problems with Frank?”
Her mom kept her tone neutral, but there was little warmth in it. “I know you better than you think, and the fact that you didn’t deny it just proves my point. I’m not upset by the fact that you’d rather not talk about what’s going on between the two of you. That concerns you and Frank, and there’s nothing I could ever say or do to help. We both know that. Marriage is a partnership, not a democracy. Which begs the question, of course, of what you’ve been sharing with Tuck all these years. If I had to guess, it wasn’t just that you wanted to visit him. It was that you also felt the need to share with him.”
Her mom let the comment hang, her eyebrow a questioning arch, and in the silence Amanda tried to swallow her shock. Her mother adjusted her napkin. “Now, I assume you’ll be here for dinner. Would you prefer to go out or stay in?”
“So that’s it?” Amanda blurted out. “You throw out your assumptions and accusations, then close the subject?”
Her mom folded her hands in her lap. “I didn’t close the subject. You’re the one who refuses to talk about it. But if I were you, I’d think about what you really want, because when you get back home, you’re going to have to make some decisions about your marriage. In the end, it’s either going to work or it isn’t. And a big part of that is up to you.”
There was a brutal truth to her words. It wasn’t just about her and Frank, after all; it was about the children they were raising. Amanda suddenly felt drained. Setting her cup on the saucer, she felt the anger leach out of her, leaving only a sense of defeat.
“Do you remember the family of otters that used to play out near our dock?” she finally asked, not waiting for an answer. “When I was a little girl? Dad would scoop me up whenever they appeared and bring me out back. We’d sit on the grass watching them splash and chase each other around. I used to think they were the happiest animals in the world.”
“I fail to understand what this has to do with anything—”
“I saw the otters again,” Amanda continued, talking over her mother. “Last year, when we took our vacation at the beach, we visited the aquarium at Pine Knoll Shores. I was excited to see the new otter exhibit. I must have told Annette about the otters behind our house a dozen times, and she couldn’t wait to see them, but when we finally got there it wasn’t the same as when I was a girl. The otters were there, of course, but they were sleeping up on a ledge. Even though we stayed at the aquarium for hours, they never moved at all. On our way out, Annette asked me why they weren’t playing and I didn’t really have an answer. But after we left, I felt… sad. Because I knew exactly why those otters didn’t play.”
She stopped to run her finger around the rim of her coffee cup before meeting her mother’s gaze.
“They weren’t happy. The otters knew they weren’t living in a real river. They probably didn’t understand how it happened, but they seemed to understand that they were in a cage and couldn’t get out. It wasn’t the life that they were meant to live, or even wanted to live, but there was nothing they could do to change it.”
For the first time since she’d been at the table, her mom looked unsure about what to say. Amanda pushed her cup away before rising from the table. As she walked away, she heard her mom clear her throat. She turned.
“I assume you had some point with that story?” her mother asked.
Amanda gave a weary smile. “Yes,” she said, her voice soft. “I did.”
11
Dawson lowered the top of the Stingray and leaned against the trunk, waiting for Amanda. There was a sultry, heavy feel to the air, portending a storm later that afternoon, and he wondered idly whether Tuck had an umbrella stashed in the house somewhere. He doubted it. He could no more imagine Tuck using an umbrella than he could imagine him in a dress, but who knew? Tuck, he’d learned, was a man of surprises.
A shadow moved across the ground and Dawson watched an osprey make slow, lazy circles overhead until Amanda’s car finally rolled up the drive. He could hear the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires as she pulled into the shady spot next to his.
Amanda stepped out of the car, surprised by the black pants and crisp white shirt Dawson was wearing, but the combo definitely worked. With the jacket casually slung over his shoulder, he was almost too handsome for his own good, which only made what her mother had said even more prescient. She drew a deep breath, wondering what she was going to do.
“Am I late?” she asked, starting toward him.
Dawson watched her approach. Even from a few feet away, the morning rays illuminated the clear blue depths of her eyes, like the sunlit waters of a pristine lake. She was wearing a black pantsuit, with a sleeveless silk blouse and a silver locket around her neck.
“Not at all,” he said. “I got here early because I wanted to make sure the car was ready.”
“And?”
“Whoever fixed it knew exactly what he was doing.”
She smiled as she reached him and then, acting on impulse, kissed him on the cheek. Dawson seemed unsure what to make of it, his confusion mirroring her own as she heard again the echo of her mother’s words. She motioned to the car, trying to escape them. “You took the top down?” she asked.
Her question brought him back to her. “I thought we might take it up to Vandemere.”
“It’s not our car.”
“I know,” he said. “But it needs to be driven so I can make sure everything is working right. Believe me, the owner will want to know it’s in perfect working order before he decides to take it out for a night on the town.”
“What if it breaks down?”
“It won’t.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
A smile played on her lips. “Then why would we need to test-drive it?”
He opened his hands, caught. “Okay, maybe I just want to drive it. It’s practically a sin to let a car like this sit in the garage, especially considering the owner won’t know and the keys are right here.”
“And let me guess — when we’re done, we’ll put it on blocks and run it in reverse, so the odometer goes backward, right? So the owner won’t know?”
“That doesn’t work.”
“I know. I learned that when I watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” She smirked.
He leaned back slightly, taking in the sight of her. “You look stunning, by the way.”
She felt the heat travel up her neck at his words and wondered if she would ever stop blushing in his presence. “Thank you,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she studied him in return, keeping a bit of distance between them. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit before. Is it new?”