Page 6 of Ten Beach Road

Three

Madeline spent the weekend alternately grilling Steve about his plans to regain their financial footing and trying to figure out what she might do to produce income after twenty-five years as a full-time wife and mother. The answer to both of these questions appeared to be “nothing.”

She read through each and every want ad, but cleaning, cooking, and carpooling with heavy doses of prodding and organizing didn’t seem to qualify her for any of them. At a time when highly skilled and experienced people were out of work, her chances of finding a decent paying job ranged from “not anytime soon” to “not in this lifetime.”

By Sunday night she was exhausted from practicing “Would you like fries with that?” and pretending for Edna’s benefit that everything was as it should be. On Monday Steve, whose strength of will had been the first thing she fell in love with and whom she’d always considered a veritable “rock,” began to crumble. It seemed that now that he’d confessed, Steve felt free to wallow in his despair. For the first time he didn’t dress or leave, but assumed what became a favored position on the family room couch with the TV remote clutched loosely in one hand.

For most of the day he watched whatever sports he could find. Once she was mobile again, Edna waited on him and clucked over him, complaining that Trafalgar didn’t know what they were doing and predicting that other investment firms would be beating down her son’s door to get him. Madeline assumed Edna had been given the abridged version of Steve’s departure from his previous employer and no version of their, and her, dire financial situation.

Madeline waited for her husband to contact the insurance company to begin filing Edna’s claim, but this didn’t happen. Nor did he seem inclined to resume his job hunt or any networking activities. But hewasworking on memorizing the daytime television schedule and had devised a system for predicting who would be eliminated fromAmerican IdolandDancing with the Stars. Both he and Edna had proven they were smarter than a fifth grader.

Madeline’s hurt and anger didn’t dissipate with time. Both emotions coursed through her, mingling with her fear and panic so that her heart thudded heavily in her chest. Unable to move or motivate Steve, Madeline dug through the file cabinet in their home office until she found Edna’s homeowner’s policy and bank statements as well as their own and spent several days poring over them. Confronting the reality of their situation in black and white made her feel even worse, which hardly seemed possible.

In fact, she began to feel very much like the Little Red Hen, from the nursery tale, as she made an appointment to meet the claims adjustor at Edna’s house and then went in to talk to their account person at the bank. She opened the bills that poured in, made note of them, then placed them in an ever-growing pile on the corner of Steve’s desk. No matter how often or how urgently she badgered him he refused to so much as look at one. When she dragged him to a psychiatrist for a session that they no longer had insurance to pay for, he refused to speak.

They’d been limping along this way for a number of weeks when Madeline came home from the grocery store where she’d maxed out her third and next-to-last credit card, and found her daughter sitting at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich. Two large suitcases stood in a corner. It was April first. “Kyra?”

“Hi, Mom.” Kyra stood and gave her a hug. “I saw Grandma in the other room with Dad. I hope my room’s still available.”

“Of course,” Madeline said. “But what’s going on? I thought you were shooting in Seattle through May.”

“I’m not on the shoot anymore.”

Madeline waited for the shout of “April Fools’!” Kyra had talked nonstop about the movie and the incredible cast and crew all through the holidays. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and a complete career builder. “But I thought . . .”

“And, um, I have another . . . small surprise.”

“Do I need to sit for this?” Maddie thought maybe running and hiding would be better based on the look on her daughter’s face, but she held her tongue.

“Probably.”

Madeline sank down in the chair next to Kyra’s. Her daughter sat, too. She looked gaunt and her eyes were puffy. “So, how do you feel about . . . grandma?”

“Well, she’s not too much extra work. And she and your father do keep each other company.” And she had cut back on the Melinda thing.

“No, I mean how do you feel about becoming one?”

“Please tell me this is an April Fools’ thing.”

Kyra shook her head while Madeline looked around for the hidden camera. “I’ve got it. You’re shooting a new reality show. And I bet it’s calledTorture Your Parent?”

Kyra’s jaw tightened and her chin jutted forward. “No, the torture part’s just an unexpected perk, I guess. I’m pregnant, Mom. And apparently having sex with an actor on a major motion picture set is okay; until his wife shows up and throws her weight around.”

Once again, Madeline wished she had misheard. “Oh, Kyra, honey. How could you let this happen?”

“Thanks for the enthusiasm and support.” Kyra’s voice was tight.

“Kyra, that’s not fair. You have to admit this is a bit of a bombshell. And it’s not the first one that’s exploded here lately.”

Her daughter’s face flushed with disappointment and absolutely zero interest in any problem other than her own. “Oh, God, everything was so great. And now it’s all such a mess.”

“I know the feeling.” Madeline contemplated her daughter. Long and lanky with a mass of dark curls and her father’s wide-set gray eyes, she was more striking than beautiful. Her flair for the dramatic had become evident in the crib and had not diminished with age.

“Who’s the baby’s father and . . .” Madeline paused, unsure how to proceed. “What role is he planning to play in this?”

Kyra hesitated.

“Just tell me, Kyra.” Madeline could not take another family member withholding critical information. “I love you, and I’ll do my best not to judge.”

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