Dune Road (32 page)

Kit knows she is being ridiculous. What, after all, could Annabel possibly have to feel guilty about?

 

Kit pats the concealer under her eyes, wishing there was a magic cure for the shadows there, shadows that are all she sees these days when she looks in the mirror.

But for forty-one, she isn’t bad. She remembers when her father turned forty and the two of them went out for dinner, Kit dressing up, loving being taken to a proper grown-up restaurant, loving pretending to be the wife. And her father seemed so old. When did forty stop being middle-aged, for Kit doesn’t feel the slightest bit middle-aged?

If anything, since her divorce, she feels as though she is regressing. During her marriage she noticed she had become a “maam” at some point. She didn’t mind in the slightest, but after her divorce people started calling her “miss” again.

She knew it didn’t have to do with a wedding band, for she chose to continue wearing a ring on her wedding finger. Not her wedding or engagement ring, or the eternity band Adam had bought her after she gave birth to Tory, but a hammered white gold ring with an emerald. It was a gift she bought herself on the day she divorced. A ring she had been admiring, and finally treated herself to, to celebrate the start of a new life.

“You can’t buy yourself an emerald,” Charlie gasped, when Kit turned up at her house to show off her latest purchase. “They’re bad luck.”

“Not this one,” Kit said instantly, and confidently. “This one will bring me luck. You wait and see.” And she was right. It has.

It doesn’t look like a traditional wedding band, and nothing like the large pear-shaped diamond she wore all those years, but people were less traditional these days, and it could certainly pass as a wedding band; yet still, people were calling her “miss.”

“You
look
younger,” Charlie said once, when they were discussing it. “You look, well,
real
. Like a real person. When you were married you looked like the wife of a hot-shot banker.”

Kit laughed. “That would be because I was the wife of a hot-shot banker.”

“That’s the point. You looked it.”

“Do I really look that different?”

“Yes. You do.”

Occasionally, Kit looks at old photos of herself. She didn’t particularly want to keep the albums from her marriage, except for the ones with the children, but now that there is little negative charge around Adam, she is able to look at them without feeling anything other than amazement: this was her life, this is who she used to be.

Kit, like so many women, is a consummate chameleon, or at least was, before her divorce. In those days she wasn’t at all sure of who she really was, and so she tried to fit in with what she thought people wanted her to be.

With Adam, that meant being a perfect hostess, a perfect wife. Dressing up, looking glamorous and elegant, in an attempt to present themselves as the perfect couple.

But designer suits and high heels just weren’t Kit. She knew how to do them, knew how to pull off the look—with a mother like Ginny, how could she possibly not know?—but she always felt like a poor facsimile of her mother, who was, she suspected, the type of person Adam really wanted her to be.

And because she was so much happier in jeans, with no make up, her feet in Dansko clogs or Uggs, she was never able to relax in those formal clothes, never able to be herself, always felt as if, at any moment, the façade would slip and Adam’s colleagues or business partners or friends, would see that she was not the person she was pretending to be, and that Kit Hargrove, plain old Kit Hargrove without all the accoutrements, was no one.

There had been a time—Kit must have been around eleven—when she was staying with her mother during the summer, and Ginny had been ill. Kit had tiptoed in to see her early one morning while Ginny was asleep, and Kit had been entirely shocked. Ginny’s face was scrubbed bare, her hair wispy and thin around her face, her mouth hanging slack as she snored lightly.

This wasn’t the woman Kit knew as her mother. This was an old woman. A stranger. And often, as Kit set about turning herself into a glamourpuss for Adam, she thought of her mother, of how she too wore her clothes, her make-up, her jewels, as a costume.

They certainly worked as armor. Kit
felt
reserved with them on. She could be someone else: gracious, elegant, charming. What she couldn’t do was what she does all the time at home these days, now she doesn’t have to pretend to be someone else: curl up on the sofa, or slouch at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

She did what all the other women did, what she thought she had to do in order to be accepted. She spent her days going to ladies’ lunches, or sitting primly at the local theater, or attending book group meetings where everyone strived to show off their intellectual prowess.

She dressed her children in the requisite French designer clothes, put them in class after class after class, because she was trying so hard to be like all the others, to be good enough, to be liked.

But since the divorce, she has changed immeasurably. Since the divorce, she has remembered who she is. Not a meek replica of all the other wealthy wives in Highfield, not someone who follows the pack, but someone who is in full charge of her life, who doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone else, who never feels the need to play a role, or try to be someone else.

These days she has taken to wearing little or no make-up, choosing clothes for practicality and function, not to impress, and as a result she moves differently, with a grace and comfort in her skin that is surprising to those who only knew her during the marriage.

She doesn’t blame Adam. She blames herself. She thinks that both she and Adam were trying to play a part, being who they thought they were supposed to be: a successful couple living in Highfield, being seen at all the smartest restaurants and parties in town.

It wasn’t so much pressure that Adam put on her, as pressure she put on herself. She didn’t want to let him down, wanted to fit in. She wanted, so very much, to be the woman she thought he wanted her to be.

Today, she is back to being “miss,” because, she suspects, she is lighter. The make-up, far from keeping her youthful, aged her, and the hairstyle was really too severe for a woman of her age.

But still. The lines, the shadows under her eyes she can do nothing about, even if, more generally, for forty-one she’s in pretty good shape.

Charlie is taking her out for her birthday tonight, which is a lovely surprise, particularly given that Charlie really can’t afford it, but she has insisted. Kit was hoping Steve would be around, but he has a business trip. However, he said he has a special gift to give her tomorrow.

Things are going well. Kit is happy, and starting to trust in the possibility of a relationship again. Steve seems to be going full speed ahead, though, which, at times, makes Kit nervous.

Just the other night, they were out at dinner, and Steve moved the bottle of wine out of the way so he could gaze into Kit’s eyes. It made her feel ever so slightly awkward, not to mention that her palms were a bit sweaty, hence her embarrassment when he reached over for her hand.

“I know this is very soon,” he said, “but I . . . I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“You are? ” She didn’t know what to say. Part delighted, part appalled. How could he possibly be in love with her after a handful of dates? Sure, men had told her this before after an equally short time, but not since she was around twenty.

Steve sat and waited for her reaction, but she couldn’t give him one. She was flattered, but nervous. This seemed a little . . . much.

“I . . . I love being with you,” she said awkwardly, knowing she couldn’t possibly say she loved him too.

“That’s okay.” He smiled. “I know you’re not ready, but you will be. Honestly, Kit, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

“But . . . you hardly know me,” she said eventually, trying to push her discomfort away.

“I know enough to know you’re an amazing person” he said. “You’re beautiful and smart and funny, and you make me feel like the best person I can be when I’m around you.”

Christ, she thought. This sounds like a line from a very bad chick flick. But she didn’t say anything. She just smiled.

Later that night, in her bed, when he rolled off her and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head and squeezing her, she told herself she was being ridiculous to have reservations. Look at this amazing man! Who wouldn’t want a man like this falling madly in love with her!

Perhaps her cynicism was unnecessary. Just because she didn’t believe in love at first sight, that didn’t mean it didn’t exist, and maybe Steve genuinely did feel all that he said he felt. Maybe she was just wary because she’d been through a divorce, was wary of being burned, of giving herself too easily, too fast.

She should count her lucky stars, she knows. There are dozens of divorced women in this town, and postdivorce life is lonely for so many. How lucky to have found a wonderful man, good-looking, successful, unattached and, most importantly,
in love with her
.

Tonight, though, he is away, and she will confess to missing him, to wishing he was here on her birthday. He can’t help it, she knows, but it seems so sad, to be celebrating her birthday with just Charlie.

They are going to the Greenhouse, and Kit knows Charlie will have organized a cake, will have done something to make it special, but she sees Charlie all the time and she wishes others were coming, to make it feel more of a celebration.

Tracy is busy. Alice is working. Annabel said she has a date, with a guy she met at the grocery store.

“We’ll celebrate with them another time,” Charlie said. “Tonight it’s just you and me.”

Kit finishes her make-up, flips her head upside down and runs her fingers through her hair, then sprays it smooth to make sure it stays that way.

She slips into her black dress, and grabs a bag, glancing in the mirror and thinking what a shame it is she looks so nice when it is only Charlie who will appreciate it. Then she goes out through the door, shutting it firmly behind her.

 

“SURPRISE! ”

Kit’s eyes widen in shock, and delight. Charlie, Keith, Steve, Adam, Annabel, Tracy, Robert, Edie, Tory and Buckley are all crowding round, hugging and kissing her, in the private room at the Greenhouse.

“Oh my God! ” She is shaking. “I can’t believe this! ”

“We can’t believe we kept it a secret! ” Annabel flings her arms around her. “I’ve been skulking around trying to organize it, and I was convinced you’d know what I was doing.”

“No! I thought you were skulking around having a secret affair! ” Kit laughs.

Annabel blanches, ever so slightly. “As if! ” she says, relieved when Kit turns to hug the other guests.

“Your business trip?” she says to Steve, who gathers her in his arms and kisses her hard on the mouth.

“I wouldn’t abandon my favorite girl on her birthday,” he says with a big grin, and Kit feels tears well up in her eyes.

Adam watches her, feeling strange. Strange, perhaps, because for the first time since the divorce he doesn’t have feelings.

He loves Kit, will always love her, and can now admit to himself that he has been harboring a secret desire for them to get back together. Or at least he had, until he met Annabel.

Now, with sudden clarity, he can see that he and Kit could not get back together. They have both moved too far without one another, and trying again would be, for both of them, taking giant steps backward.

Annabel.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight either. Until he met Annabel. Or is it lust? Whatever it is, he cannot stop thinking about her. Counts the hours until he can see her. Has taken time off work to be with her. He loves the way she makes him feel when he’s with her: young, energized, excited, as if his life is just starting and all the possibility is in the future.

Of course he has got over Kit. Who wouldn’t, with someone as gorgeous as Annabel in his bed? As for the fact of Annabel being Kit’s sister, surely in time that will all work itself out. Annabel has to go back soon, but he has started making calls to immigration lawyers, started trying to figure out how she can stay, because now that he has found her, he does not want to let her go.

It couldn’t be more perfect. Kit has a man herself, and he has Annabel, and the kids adore her. Sure, there were those few times when Tory clearly suspected something was going on—he must remember that she is not a child any more, that they have to be discreet, careful—and Tory narrowed her eyes at Annabel, protecting her father, he imagines.

And it’s quite possible,
probable
, in fact, that Tory will have some difficulty, but that’s less to do with Annabel being her aunt, and more to do with her father having a serious girlfriend.

Time will iron everything out. Tory adores her, and even if she gives her a hard time at first, Adam can absolutely see how they will all live happily ever after, because how could they not, when life is so unbelievably exciting, so filled with opportunity and possibility?

Tracy comes forward to hug Kit. She doesn’t want to be here, has found that the handful of times she has seen Kit since they had that argument at Robert’s house have been deeply uncomfortable.

But how can she not be here? How could she possibly have said no, even if Kit is as reluctant as she is? She is acting “as if,” pretending that everything is fine. She flashes a bright smile, a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, although no one sees that, except for Steve, who happens to be looking.

“Happy birthday, my darling,” Tracy says, pulling her in, affecting an intimacy she doesn’t feel, not any more.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Kit says, her smile equally false, for she is finding Tracy more and more distant, is hurt by the loss of their friendship, by what she sees as Tracy’s rejection.