Page 59 of Anywhere with You
“Our trip,” Cara said slowly, “is over.”
“I know.” I grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
She dropped her head to the table, then immediately raised it, rubbing at her forehead. The table did look a little sticky. “It’s not like there’s an airport nearby, Honey,” she said combatively, as though I’d disagreed with her. “Or even a car rental place.”
I just kept nodding. “We’d probably spend the price of a plane ticket getting a rideshare or a taxi to the nearest airport, if it was even possible.”
“I don’t see what choice we have, really. We’re stuck.” She looked so morose, I wanted to cry. “I had just started to feel…like this was working, you know? I’ve spent the last decade following Lorenzo’s plans, not really making any of my own. Do you know what that’s like?”
I didn’t know if she was really asking me, so I waited until she looked up questioningly.
“Yes,” I said, then, “no. I always felt like I made all the plans with Bridget, and if I didn’t, then nothing would ever happen. We’d just be sitting there on the couch until we died. I was the one who couldn’t live that way, who demanded that we spend the weekend at a lake cabin or…or, God, start a music shop. Bridget was good at work, and she was a huge help getting the store started. But it was like, once she got home, she didn’t have the effort for it. For us.”
Cara was smiling slightly. “Yeah, I can see that in you. You’d always be like,Let’s sled down this sand duneandLet’s poke this javelina and see if it chases us.” Her voice was deep and nasal when she mimicked me, completely unlike my very normal voice, which was lovely and melodic.
“I did not,” I said, laughing.
“But you didn’t bully Bridget into any of those things, did you? Never mind, I know the answer to that. You’d push if she wanted to be persuaded or swept away, if she’d wanted to feel wanted, but if you had a plan to go somewhere, and she didn’t want to go, you’d have…”
“Gone anyway,” I said. “Usually. Hypothetically. I haven’t thought much about actual travel these last few years. Everything has been about the store.” Still, I’d gone back to Bolivar Flats to walk those solitary beaches, alone. I’d gone to restaurants Bridget hadn’t wanted to try. I’d even taken a couples’ sushi-making class by myself because I wanted to learn how to make sushi, damn it. I’d invited Florence along that time, but it never would’ve occurred to me tonotgo.
“You’d have gone anyway,” Cara agreed. “Gone alone. I’ve never done that, Honey. I think this is the first time in my life I’ve ever picked up a map and made a choice. And now it’s over. I am not ready for it to be over.”
“I am sorry,” I repeated. “I guess hanging out for a week in this little hamlet isn’t your idea of an adventure.”
She let out all her breath. “I mean, it’s not my living room. That’s better than nothing. What are you going to do, being stuck here?”
“The music store’s in good hands. It’s your job I’m worried about.”
Cara stared into the distance. “I have some time off. I only took a day or two this year.”
I didn’t comment on how resilient she must be to deal with the end of her marriage and still keep working. Resilient or stubborn. No, resilientandstubborn.
“One thing,” I said. “I adore our one-bed situation, for the record. But I desperately do not want to stay in that filthy motel another night.”
Cara sat up straighter, accepting my declaration as a challenge, and raised her hand to wave to Lane, who had their coffee decanter in one hand and two mugs in the other, like they’d foretold our arrival. “Lane, you wouldn’t happen to know of another hotel nearby?”
Lane shook their head, approaching our table. “That’s the only one. It’s…a bit of an antique.”
Cara’s posture lost some of its strength. “That’s a polite way of putting it. We seem to be stuck here for a while, and we’re not exactly enjoying our stay. Present company excluded, of course,” she hurried to add.
Lane’s smile twitched, and they started pouring our coffee. “Not a hotel for fifty miles at least. But my mom owns a vacation rental about twenty miles out.”
Cara looked at me, eyebrows raised.
“Um,” I said, imagining a shed with a cot and little else, “could we take a look?”
Chapter Twenty-two
“Dear goodness,” Cara said.
I was thinking the same, but with less restraint.
Lane’s mom, it turned out, was the only veterinarian in the county, and she rented out her new, professionally decorated, spacious four-bedroom house while she was at conferences and on the very long vacations she took several times a year.
“You’re in luck,” Lane said. “It’s usually booked months in advance, but the guests that were supposed to come this week canceled. Something about deciding that they couldn’t stand to be in the same house for another second? That they would rather eat deep-fried batteries than share one more meal? That they would rather sleep with a bale of barbed wire than with each other? Something like that. Anyhoo. Too late for a refund. I’ll ask to be sure, but since you’re in a jam, I’m sure Mom will let you stay for free.”
Cara gave a hiccuping gasp. I took a step closer to her, worried that the marble countertops were about to bring her to tears.
