The View from Alameda Island - Robyn Carr Page 0,23

But at least we’ll be together.”

Lauren suddenly choked on a sob and covered her mouth. She loved Jeremy. He was a sensitive, wonderful young man. He was researching autism and he was by far the most decent and committed boy either of her girls had brought home. Cassie had been seeing him for over a year and Lauren knew they were serious.

“Mom...” Cassie said.

But Jeremy pulled her into a hug. “We’ll be okay,” he said. “We’re not rushing. As it turns out, Boston will be better for my research in some areas. And you’d think I was stupid if I let Cassie get away.”

“I would,” she said. “But, oh God, it’s another one of those big transitions.”

Cassie laughed at her. “But you’re happy for us, right?”

“Does this mean you don’t need me to help you get settled?”

“Oh Mama, I really want to do this with you! You’re so good at this sort of thing.”

She wiped her cheeks. “True,” she said. “I am the best.” This was silly. She knew they were intimate. They were hardly children. She’d married at twenty-three. She laughed a little nervously.

Cassie asked Jeremy to go get them a couple of glasses of wine. When he was out of earshot, Cassie said, “Will you tell Daddy?”

Lauren frowned. “Shouldn’t you?” she asked.

Cassie shook her head. “I shouldn’t. He never likes my choices. Lacey could announce she’s moving in with Charles Manson and Daddy would applaud her good taste, but I never please him. And he doesn’t like Jeremy.”

“Oh, I’m sure he likes Jeremy. They just don’t have that much in common,” Lauren said. And then she asked herself why she lied for him? Brad didn’t like Jeremy because Jeremy was a sensitive intellectual who would never be rich. Jeremy was gentle and kind. Brad was not drawn to people like that.

“Will you please?” Cassie asked.

Lauren smiled at her youngest. She admired the choices Cassie was making. She admired that she’d chosen a good man who made her happy, a man who wanted her to be happy. “Is Jeremy coming with us to Boston to look at housing options?”

“No. He said that’s entirely up to me. And he insists he’ll get a job and pay half the rent.”

That made her smile again. “Will he be coming right away?”

“A few weeks after me,” she said. “He has stuff to wrap up and an apartment to clean out.”

“Then maybe I’ll wait a little while to tell your dad your plans.”

“I know it’s not going to be smooth with him,” she said. “That’s why I asked you...”

“And what makes you think I have any influence?” Lauren said. “He argues with me constantly!”

“But somehow you always get through it!”

“No, somehow I always survive it,” she said. “I figured out how to live with him.”

Damn, it was true! She managed her husband. He didn’t love her, she didn’t love him and they’d done this dance for years! She had no idea what Brad’s stake was in the relationship—was it all to have a good housekeeper and hostess? Because they weren’t lovers. They weren’t confidants. They weren’t friends.

“You know, Cassidy, no matter what your father’s opinion is, who you live with or marry is up to you,” Lauren said.

“But he can make things pretty difficult when his opinion doesn’t match mine,” Cassie said.

“I know,” Lauren said, giving Cassie’s light brown hair a fond stroke. “I’m not looking forward to you moving so far away but I am looking forward to our time together.”

“Me, too,” Cassie said.

And I hope you choose more wisely than I did, she wanted to add.

But was every day a tragedy? Of course not. They’d had some good times together without being lovers, friends or confidants. They went to Italy last year and met some lovely couples they still kept in touch with. They went to St. Tropez every winter, sometimes taking the girls, and ran into the same people there, socializing like normal couples. Daily life was tolerable because they really didn’t see too much of each other unless the girls were around. Brad was very social and when he made plans, she went along and was very agreeable.

Then once or twice a week it went south and crushed her spirit. He’d remind her she came from nothing. He’d tell her she was delusional or that she fabricated stories to make herself look like a victim of his cruelty. He’d shout at her, demean her.

Pinch her.

Those pinches were possibly the most demeaning thing he did. Weighing everything about their relationship, she