The Guest Cottage (17 page)

“Leo has turned out just fine. He’s a wonderful little boy,” Sophie told him calmly.

“Right. True. Thanks.” Trevor nodded, and the nodding moved into a kind of psycho mini-rocking. “Tallulah
wanted
the baby when she found out she was pregnant. I did, too, and when Leo arrived, I did everything I could. I took care of him. I fed him. She didn’t nurse him because she was afraid it would ruin her breasts. She didn’t like touching his diapers, or his throw-up when he got sick. She didn’t have the patience to do the necessary stuff like teaching him to brush his teeth. Well, and I can’t blame her—it’s hard, thankless work. And Tallulah, well, she was glamorous. Babies, children—they totally weren’t her thing.”

So much raw confession made Trevor feel itchy with guilt. He stalked across the room and peered down the hall, listening for a moment to hear any sounds that meant Leo was awake. When he returned to his chair, he looked at Sophie with a self-deprecating smile.

“Do you want more?” he asked.

“Sure,” Sophie replied quietly.

“Okay. Tallulah loved acting. Her dream was to be in a New York soap opera. When she wasn’t rehearsing, trolling through the used-clothing stores for a fabulous find, hanging out with her girlfriends doing each other’s nails and hair, or, although I didn’t know it, doing drugs with Wilhelm, she was at home watching TV shows like
American Idol
and
The Voice.
Oh, yeah, reality shows were a big hit with her, too. She’d say, ‘I can do that. I can do better than that.’ ”

“And with Leo?” Sophie prompted.

“She was kind to Leo. If she was home, she would hold him on her lap and cuddle him. He loved that so much. Some days, especially when she had a part in some play, she’d be all dizzy with joy. She’d try on her different outfits and dress Leo up, too. He would stumble around in one of her sequined tops, getting his feet caught in the hem, tripping and falling, and Tallulah would laugh and clutch him and fall on the bed with him, tickling him. Those were Leo’s best times in his life. He was just a little kid. He didn’t know what a perfect mom was supposed to do. In his eyes, Tallulah
was
perfect. And you know, in my eyes, she was kind of perfect, too.” The powerful heat within him pushed its way to his throat and Trevor made an odd choking sound. “I had just started my business when I met her. I like my business. When I’m working at my computer, I get into a kind of zone and it’s like the rest of the world disappears. And, it was so cool, the way she didn’t care about the house. Like all my friends were getting married, and the wives wanted stuff like All-Clad cookware and silver and platters and throw pillows, and if Tallulah and I would ever go out to dinner with them, the wife would just go on and on about decorating. Tallulah never did that. She couldn’t have cared less what the walls looked like. That really freed me up to work on my business.”

Trevor forced himself to shut up. But after spilling his guts like this, he realized he still wasn’t through, or rather it—his grief—wasn’t through with him. “I had no idea she had started using. I knew she was excited about the new play she was in and she was always, more than usual, rehearsing with this guy Wilhelm. I didn’t really pay attention. After the cops came, I just kept thinking, why didn’t I notice, why didn’t I do something? I walked all through the apartment, I tore through the medicine cabinet and all our kitchen cabinets, looking for something, I don’t know what, a packet of white powder? I never found anything, not that I’d even know it if I saw it.” When Trevor looked up at Sophie, tears spilled from his eyes. “I’m so angry at her. What was she thinking? I know she didn’t do much with Leo, but she was there for him, I mean she
existed
for him, he could see her walking around. I’m so pissed off at myself, I could totally punch myself in the face. If I’d paid attention, I would have noticed the drugs, I would have tried to stop her. I’ll never forgive myself for that.” Trevor dropped his head into his hands and cried shamelessly in front of Sophie.

He cried relentlessly, unable to resist the powerful emotions shaking his shoulders and streaming tears down his face. He had cried before, of course, many times. But he had never spoken as honestly to anyone before, and the grief had never hurt as much.

Pretty soon, he heard rustling, and Sophie came over to his chair, sat on the arm, and simply stroked his hair. She said nothing, only stroked his hair.

“Mom.”

Trevor didn’t look up, he didn’t have to—he could tell that Jonah was in the doorway.

“Go in the kitchen, Jonah,” Sophie told her son quietly. “You’ll find anything you want to eat in the refrigerator or on the counters.”

Jonah’s presence cooled Trevor off fast. He sniffed back his tears, making yet another disgusting noise in the room.

“Sorry, Sophie,” he apologized. “Sorry. I’m a mess.”

Sophie moved her hand from his hair down to the back of his neck and then gently ran her hands back and forth across his shoulders. “Don’t be silly. It’s kind of an honor. It helps me understand you. Plus,” she added, with a lighter voice, “I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to return the favor.”

Somewhere in the house the phone rang.
Forget it,
Trevor wanted to say,
don’t interrupt this moment.
That pushing, angry sensation had disappeared, to be replaced by a kind of amazement at the gentle touch of Sophie’s hand. He would never say this now, and he was thirty now, not a kid any longer, so he knew he needed to give himself some time and think about it all when he wasn’t so emotional. But at this moment, he felt like he was in love. In real love for the very first time.

“Mom.” Jonah ambled into the room with the phone in his hand. “It’s for you. It’s that guy.” Jonah cast a baleful look at Trevor that said all too clearly he didn’t think much of
that guy.

Sophie removed her hand from Trevor’s back and stood up. “I’ll take this call in the other room.”

Trevor was both upset and relieved when Sophie left the room. It allowed him to take out his handkerchief and give his nose a good honking. But he also wished Sophie had remained next to him with her hand on his back. He had a lot more he wanted to say to her.

It seemed to him she was gone for a long time. When she returned, she was all bright and shiny.

“Guess what! Hristo has invited us out on his yacht today. Do you think Leo would like to come with us, and you, too, of course?” She stood in the doorway, far away from Trevor.

He couldn’t believe it. He could not
believe,
after he had opened his heart to her, that she would so frivolously skip off to play with Mr. Moneybags. He was insulted and in the primal part of his guts, he was furious.

“No, thanks, I’m sure Mr. Bulgarian would like to have you all to himself.” Trevor knew he was behaving loutishly, but he thought she was being pretty insensitive, brushing him off after the way he had confided in her.

He stood up, tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket, and left the room, careful not to brush against her as he passed. “I’m going to check on Leo.”

A
s Sophie prepared herself and her kids for an afternoon on the water, she was vexed by an irritating emotion right under her skin, like a developing rash. Guilt peppered her for leaving Trevor at such an intimate moment. She had probably hurt Trevor when she cut him off like that at the moment he was opening up to her about Tallulah, especially since she was leaving him to see “Mr. Bulgarian.”

She hadn’t wanted to hurt him. But as she sat next to him, meaning to offer him comfort as she stroked his wide shoulders, she realized she was way too strongly appreciative of his taut muscles, his clean masculine scent, his thick dark hair. Her mind had been screaming:
Not appropriate!
He was far too young for her. Not to mention he was a widower.

Okay, he had been with Angie, but she knew Angie’s modus operandi. Angie didn’t take no for an answer if there was something she really wanted. But to give Angie her due, she was not a tattletale. She was practical about satisfying her needs and she seldom bad-mouthed a man or even spoke about her experience with one unless she knew it would provide her friends with hysterical laughter. Angie had said nothing about her night with Trevor.

When Hristo called, Sophie had been on the verge of wrapping both arms around Trevor and pulling him to her in a consoling maternal embrace. She had struggled not to do this, well aware that she did not feel maternal and that consolation was not what she would like to give him. Hristo’s phone call had been a saved-by-the-bell moment for her.

And she
had
invited Trevor and Leo, after all—even though Hristo had been reluctant in his agreement when she asked if they could come along. She was both relieved and disappointed that the Blacks didn’t join them. Really, she decided, it was better this way. She had enough on her hands with the way Jonah was acting.

At first Jonah refused to come along. After she cajoled him, reminding him this might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, he changed his mind and sullenly agreed, but he acted as if he was doing her a great big fat favor. Maybe Jonah was simply acting like a normal adolescent.

Lacey was thrilled to see her friend Desi, and Sophie herself was tingling with anticipation at the thought of being around Hristo again. She pulled white shorts and a loose linen shirt over her red bikini. Yes, dammit, she was going to wear that bikini. Whatever this thing was with Hristo, she knew it was a kind of make-believe relationship that wouldn’t last beyond this summer and she was going to be as bold as she could, bolder than she’d ever been. Aunt Fancy was whispering, “You go, girl!” in her ear.

Hristo picked them up in his Range Rover and drove them to the yacht club. Lacey and Desi chattered away in the backseat like BFFs who hadn’t seen each other for months, while Jonah stared out the window, his face as stormy as if he were being hauled off to an algebra test.

At the club, they found a launch waiting to take them out to the yacht. It wasn’t as big as the impressive hundred-foot vessels that moored in Nantucket Harbor during the summer, bearing flags from Bermuda or Great Britain. It didn’t have a helicopter pad or Jet Skis, but it did have—why was Sophie surprised?—a crew wearing white uniforms who helped them aboard. Hristo introduced them all as if they were friends, and probably they were, since they were all Bulgarian. He spoke to them in their language, then led Sophie and her children into the main cabin.

Decorated in dark wood with plush sofas of white leather and navy-blue pillows printed with gold anchors, the main cabin was luxurious. A vase of blue hydrangeas sat in the middle of the coffee table, amid bowls of nuts, figs, cherry tomatoes, and chocolates.

Noticing Jonah’s expression, which to Sophie’s relief had changed from anger to awe, Hristo said to him, “Feel free to look around. If you go down those stairs, you’ll come to the master bedroom. There’s a head if you need it. Desi can show you her quarters. We’ll eat lunch later out on the deck. For now, may I offer anyone a cold drink?” Quickly, he added, “I suggest only water. It’s easy to become dehydrated out here. The sun reflects off the ocean.”

Lacey giggled as she trailed after Desi. Hristo showed Sophie and Jonah the bridge of the yacht and Jonah opted to remain there, fascinated by the various computerized instruments. Sophie and Hristo returned to the main room to settle in and enjoy the view of the island from the long windows.

Hristo studied Sophie’s face. “You think I’m spoiled.”

Defensively, politely, Sophie quickly replied, “No, not at all. I don’t think you’re spoiled.
Lucky,
yes.”

“True. I would like to explain.”

“Please.”

“The money that bought all this was left to me by my uncle, who fled Bulgaria before the Communists came. My uncle invested wisely. He requested I use my money to help Bulgaria. I, too, have invested wisely, and I am trying to help.”

Sophie nodded, aware that he had more to tell her.

His face creased with worry. “I am Bulgarian. My country is in a time of dire crisis. I have the ability to help influence international businesses to base themselves in Bulgaria. I cannot go to them like a beggar with my hand out. The people I must deal with do not want to see a loser. When I bring them out on my yacht, our discussions are much more likely to go the way I want them to go.”

“Of course,” Sophie responded, as if she had any idea what he was really talking about.

Hristo was wearing navy-blue shorts with a white shirt that set off his tan and gave him a romantic, dark-knight aura. As he spoke to her, he leaned toward her on the leather sofa, gazing at her intensely, like a hypnotist. And she was hypnotized. She had never met anyone quite like him.

“I am a dual national,” he continued, “but I am Bulgarian to the core. Desi is also a dual national and she spends several months a year in our country.”

“And your wife?” Sophie inquired.

“My ex-wife. We are divorced. She will never leave Bulgaria. She is committed to it. She works as the assistant secretary of the Department of
Transportation,
which allows her to know much important information she wouldn’t have access to otherwise. She’s a brave woman and I admire her. A good mother? Not so much. We all do our best.” A gentle smile stole across Hristo’s face. “A good wife? Not for years. We are friends, colleagues, and of course the parents of our lovely daughter. We keep in touch. I take Desi to see her. But I admit it, I am a lonely man. Yes, I have all this, but I am a lonely man.”

Sophie listened to Hristo with increasing wonder, both at his unimaginable life and at the fact of her, a typical American mother, hearing such things. Being on Nantucket, on vacation from her real life, was allowing her a freedom she’d never known, and she heard herself say, as if she said such things to men every day, “How can you be lonely? You are handsome, charming, and,” she risked a carefree smile, “obviously wealthy.”

“I’m not saying I couldn’t be with one of the many lovely young Bulgarian women I know. But I am trying to help them, not use them. I am not so young. I am forty-five. I am weighed down with
responsibility.
I chose that
responsibility.
I am proud of myself and I do not want to act in an unseemly manner.” He returned her daring smile. “Although, if I may be so bold, I find myself wishing very much to act in an unseemly manner with you.”

Sophie knew she was blushing from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes, partly from embarrassment, partly from attraction. She managed to keep her eyes on his. She managed not to giggle like her daughter. It crossed her mind that the first thing she would do when she got home was to phone Bess and Angie to repeat this amazing conversation.

Hristo continued to look at her, his gaze growing warm. Sophie had stopped breathing. She thought he was going to take her in his arms and kiss her—and then one of the crew appeared to announce that they were going to anchor now, out in the sound within sight of Great Point.

“Shall we have a swim before lunch?” invited Hristo, smoothly changing the topic.

“Mom.” Jonah came into the main cabin. “This is awesome. Zarko says we can go swimming now, but do these guys know about Genie?”

“Genie?” asked Hristo.

Before Jonah could reply, the uniformed man quickly said, “Genie is a great white shark. She has been tagged by OCEARCH. She comes to Nantucket in the summer because of the population of seals at Great Point. That’s why we have anchored out here. And our sonar shows no sign of a large fish.”

“Thank you, Zarko,” said Hristo. “Would you be kind enough to tell the girls?”

The group went to the stern of the boat, where a ladder down to the water was fastened. Hristo pulled off his white rugby shirt and dove into the water. Jonah followed.

Sophie cautioned, “Lacey, I think you should wear a life jacket to swim out here.”

“Mom, don’t be so lame. I’ve had swimming lessons forever.” Lacey rolled her eyes at her mother and without waiting, dove off the boat, surfacing a moment later, treading water and giggling. Desi quickly dove in next to her.

“I am here,” Zarko told Sophie. “I will watch and if I see any sign of trouble, I will help. I have taken lifeguard instructions.”

Now there was nothing for Sophie to worry about except stripping down to her red bikini. Hristo was an attractive man. She was, at least for the summer, a free woman. She would probably never see him again. This summer she was learning to be brave. She removed her shorts and shirt and dove into the icy water. Blue bubbles surrounded her, the sun dazzled her, and the cold temperature woke her up. She felt effervescent with life.

After their swim, they sat around a long teak table on the boat’s stern to have lunch. The crew served a selection of lobster and avocado salad with warm rolls, and lobster rolls with French fries and onion
rings—something
for both generations. The conversation was light, focusing on the waters between Cape Cod and Nantucket and the various sea creatures existing there. Lacey and Desi and Jonah, too, became animated during the discussion of the growing population of great white sharks in the summer. This led to talk about
Jaws
and other movies involving imaginary monsters swimming in the deep.

Dessert was fresh fruit over vanilla ice cream, and then the three young people were free to roam the boat or watch movies on the DVD player. Sophie, with sunblock on her nose, sat talking on the upper deck with Hristo as the crew turned the boat and they slowly made their way back to their mooring.

“It’s wonderful to see the island from this perspective,” said Sophie.

“Yes, you get a different understanding of the shape of the land and its relationship with the ocean.”

The boat reentered Nantucket Harbor, slowing its speed as it threaded its way past other yachts and sailboats. Houses, wharves, and the town returned to view, wrapping around Sophie’s sight: solid land after so much blue ocean.

“This is like returning from a dream,” Sophie murmured.

“I would like to be part of your dreams,” said Hristo. Reaching over, he lifted her hand in his. “I would like to be your friend. I would like to be more than your friend if you would allow me.” He kissed the back of her hand.

Sophie was charmed. When had anyone ever kissed the back of her hand? For a moment she felt like a princess. Nearly breathless, she sighed, “I would like that a lot.”

Hristo moved in, putting his hand gently on the back of her head, pulling her toward him, and pressing his lips against hers. Softly, and then not so softly. Foolishly, she thought,
I’m kissing a European.
She couldn’t help being thrilled.

“Mom!” Jonah’s voice was startled, his eyes wide.

Horrified, Sophie jerked backward from Hristo so quickly she almost lost her balance. “Jonah—oh, sweetie, what’s up?”

“We’re here,” Jonah told her. “Ready to get off.”

She rose, looking around for her sunglasses. “Thanks for telling me, Jonah. I’ll be right there.”

Jonah thumped back down to the lower deck.

She glanced guiltily at Hristo, who whispered, “He is young. He is a son.” With the back of his hand, he gently stroked Sophie’s cheek. “To be continued, yes?”