Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
There, my grandmother gave birth to three more girls, one after the other. Mom suspects her mother was trying to do her part to make up for all the relatives she’d lost. Neither she nor my grandfather had any idea that the little house they’d scrimped and saved to purchase was built on toxic waste, or that all their children would be barren and dead before the age of fifty.
All except my mother…
That’s why she’s always hoped for grandchildren.
I am the last chance for our family line to live on, the last chance to prove that the Mendelssohns are survivors.
I hate that I couldn’t make her dream come true, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved that Elaina and I parted ways before it was too late. I was a fool to think I’d be able to impregnate the woman I loved, then vanish from her and our baby’s lives without a trace.
Turns out, I’m not that cold or callous.
Though sometimes, I wish I were.
It’s been eight months since we said goodbye, eight long, miserable months, and I still see her everywhere. In the glossy ponytail of a woman walking down the street ahead of me, in the cut of a vintage-style dress in a shop window, in my dreams, where she haunts me every night with her beauty, her kiss, her laughter…
“Are you all right?” my mother asks from across the table, concern in her voice. “You’ve been quiet since we sat down.”
I push the dark thoughts away and force a smile. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. I’m not used to marathon shopping.”
She sits up straighter in her chair, looking pleased. “Who would have thought? Me tiring you out! Think how spunky I’ll be once I’m done with the last round of chemo.”
“I’m a little afraid to, honestly,” I tease, making her laugh. “I’ll never be able to keep up with you.”
We spent the day wandering Portsmouth’s historic downtown, ducking in and out of shops while avoiding the bracing wind off the harbor. Mom insisted on visiting every soap, kitchen, and kitschy New England store we passed, cooing over the lobsters and seagulls adorning everything from sweatshirts to olive oil bottles to hand cream.
Lobsters…
They also remind me of Elaina. Of that night at the lobster boil, when we had no idea that we were on our way to falling in love, and the lobster-print pajamas she sometimes wore to bed when we actually bothered to put on clothes.
The fact that Mom chose a lobster restaurant by the bay for our early dinner, complete with lobster art covering every wall, carved lobsters hanging from the ceiling, and a lobster napkin holder that crouches by my plate, looking smug, feels personal.
“But there’s still more to see tomorrow,” Mom says, taking a sip of her chardonnay. “The woman I was chatting with at the soap store says the craft collective has some incredible art, and there’s a witch store tucked away on a side street that’s fascinating to poke around.”
I arch a brow. “A witch store?”
She nods. “You know, one of those places where you can get crystals and incense and ingredients for spells. She said their tarot card reader is extraordinary and very reasonably priced.”
I frown as I fold my arms over my chest. “Since when have you been into things like that?”
She shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know. It just seems interesting, that’s all. Why have I been given a new lease on life if not to explore new things?” I offer a grunt in response, but she only laughs. “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. You can go to a coffee shop and check your email or call your assistant and yell about the Harrison deal some more.”
“The Morrison deal,” I correct. “And I wasn’t yelling. I was assertively encouraging Dana to get tough with the old man. He shook hands on the purchase price. Trying to raise that price forty-eight hours before the deal is set to close is bad form. Not to mention a waste of time. I will not be moved.”
Mom nods, her smile fading. “You are stubborn. That’s for sure.”
“I wonder who I learned that from?”
But she doesn’t smile this time. Instead, she decides to take my teasing seriously. “Well, from me, of course. But having my mind set on achieving one outcome, at any cost, hasn’t always served me well, darling.”
“You’re alive,” I remind her, as grateful for that as ever. “You wouldn’t be if you’d given up when everyone said you were out of options.”
She inclines her head in acknowledgement of my point. “Yes, but if I hadn’t been so stubbornly determined to honor my marriage vows, I would have left your father so much sooner. I could have spared us both so much suffering and pain.”