trucks and day workers with substandard plants and estimates so low that she couldn’t compete. The developers loved it—they didn’t care if the plantings died in a year or the sod burned in the sun because it wasn’t watered. They put her out of business.”
“That’s terrible.” Kaye couldn’t imagine Dewberry Beach without Gerta. “Where are they now?”
“I don’t know and believe me, I’ve asked. My own yard needs attention and I’d rather not do business with those New York people… not that I have a choice.” She scowled. “When I call them, they don’t come, not even for an estimate. After they drove Gerta and Corrie away, they raised their prices and are very picky about what jobs they take.”
“Picky? How so?”
“They only work with builders on the big jobs, mostly the new development near the inlet.”
One of the volunteers from the community center emerged from the house carrying a box. She noticed Kaye in the side yard and strode toward her, a purposeful look on her face.
Mrs. Ivey noticed too. She touched Kaye’s arm gently. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Dinner’s at six and I’ll make up a bed for you. I know your family comes soon, but it will be nice for us to catch up until then. I hope you don’t mind indulging me.”
She left before Kaye could refuse.
It took three days to reassemble the shore house into something recognizable. A full day to clear the house of everything they’d bought for rental families: furniture, board games, linens, and cookware. Another for a crew of five to clean the house, erasing all memory of other tenants. And an entire day to set Kaye’s house back to the way it was. The physical work, unloading the truck from the storage unit and unpacking the boxes was only a morning’s work for the crew she hired. When they left, and she was alone with her things, she took her time. She poured herself a glass of wine, flicked on the radio, tuned the dial to an old serial program, and let the memories come.
Hours later, when every painted shell and potholder was in place, Kaye finally allowed herself to rest. She wandered the rooms with an open heart. The house looked exactly the same as it had before the tragedy. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the rustle of the morning newspaper coming from Chase’s chair in the den, the clatter of silverware in the kitchen as Stacy and Brad sneaked another slice from the sheet of crumb buns.
When she was finished, she retired to her own bed knowing that Chase would join her in a few days. That night she slept more soundly than she had in the previous three years.
Early the next morning, Kaye brewed herself a pot of coffee and brought it to the back deck, her favorite place to greet the day. There, she allowed her mind to drift back to Chase’s heart attack and the destruction it had left in its wake. The last three years had been the worst of her life, and despite her best efforts, she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that it wasn’t over—to believe that her husband of thirty-five years and the love of her life had actually recovered and would be fine. Truthfully, it was the unexpectedness of it that haunted her; the idea that she could do everything right and still be faced with tragedy. She didn’t believe the doctors, no matter how much she tried. Her more generous self might allow that they’d done their best, but she didn’t really believe that either. Despite annual check-ups and following their advice on diet and exercise, the unimaginable happened and Kaye had no faith in their ability to predict his future now.
So for the past three years, she’d been bracing herself for a second attack. The one he wouldn’t recover from. She knew it was coming.
It occurred to her, months after his collapse, that she should ask God’s forgiveness for the things she’d said to Him, especially during those first few nights. The nights her husband lay in the ICU, his future unsure and Kaye overcome with panic. But it wasn’t God who had exploited business connections and strained friendships to locate the best cardiologist in the tri-state. It wasn’t God who had telephoned that very doctor at home and badgered him until he agreed to consult on Chase’s case, driving to Princeton General in the dead of night. And it