Page 44 of A Shore Fling
“Do you live together?”
“Not exactly, but we might as well,” I say, and she cocks her head in question. “We each have our own houses, but they’re all next to each other.”
Her eyebrows climb high on her forehead. “Four in a row?”
“Five. My parents have a cottage too, but they’re visiting friends in Massachusetts.”
“Wow, your family is close.”
“Literally,” I say, chuckling.
She spreads peanut butter on my half of the bagel and then passes me the plate along with a napkin. “You can sit down, you know.”
“I would, but my back is still stiff from sleeping on the couch.”
Her brow dips slightly. “I have Ibuprofen if you want some.”
“No, thanks. This will work itself out.” I bite into the bagel and chew. It’s a little crunchy, but not bad.
“Getting older sucks,” she says.
I wipe peanut butter from my lips. “True, but it’s better than the alternative, and I plan to live to be one hundred.”
“I can see that happening. It’s always the grumpy old men who live the longest.” She tears off a piece of bagel and shoves it between her lips, as if she didn’t just insult me.
“Maybe it’s the women in their lives who made them like that,” I defend. I wasn’t always this grumpy, was I?
Her chin tips toward me. “What’s your excuse?”
Shrugging, I take another bite. That’s a tricky question, one I don’t have an answer for. Why am I so grumpy? I have a cottage I love and a job I’ve wanted since I was a child. I have family members who love me that I see whenever I want—and even when I don’t want. The only component missing is someone to share my life with. Did my divorce make me so bitter that I’ve stopped appreciating how blessed I truly am?
“You okay?” Nina asks, shaking me from my musings.
“Yeah. I was just thinking about the list of things I need to do today,” I lie.
“Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest,” she says.
I let out a sharp laugh. “I thought it was to take care of the mountain of laundry and grocery shop.”
“That sounds about right. But not for me, at least not in my immediate future. I am scheduleless and embracing going with the flow.”
“I bet by the end of this week you’ll be bored and need something to do,” I challenge, eating the final piece of bagel. I’m all for taking a break, but when you’re used to the daily grind, it becomes part of who you are.
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I have a stack of books to read and a beach that’s only a five-minute walk from here.”
I place my plate in the dishwasher and then toss my napkin in the trash. “Thank you for feeding me. I feel half alive now.”
“Finish your coffee. That’ll get you to at least three quarters.”
“Good point.” I down the remainder in one large gulp, then put the mug in the dishwasher. “I should get going. My laundry isn’t going to take care of itself.”
“You sound like a housewife,” she teases.
“No, I sound like every adult.”
“True. I didn’t realize laundry would be such a large part of my life. One of my favorite things about this cottage is the clothesline. I’d never hung stuff out to dry before.”
“Never? How is that possible?”
