Free The Guest Cottage by Nancy Thayer Page B

director on a cruise ship. Jonah had always been quieter, slower to react, more of a homebody. A smart, studious boy, he’d enjoyed baseball, soccer, and swimming, but he liked his private time, too, reading or playing video games. He’d shared everything with Sophie, he’d lean against her on the sofa when the family watched TV—and then this year he’d turned fifteen and morphed into some version of Eeyore, slouching directly into his room from school without saying hello, shrinking away from Sophie’s slightest touch, eating at the dinner table as if the rest of the family were invisible.
    This was only normal, natural, Sophie knew that, but it was hard to be ignored by her son, and more than that, she worried about him now that he never shared the inner workings of his heart. What
could
he be doing on his iPad all the time? Was he happy? Were any adolescents
happy
? She found great consolation when Jonah, by the fourth day, started hanging out with some guys his age, body surfing up the beach from where Sophie and Lacey had established their camp.
    Lacey lay on the blanket, reading with Sophie, or raced into the water, shrieking, playing with other children, some much younger, a few her age. Each day brought a new and different community. Some days Lacey built sand castles. Another day she helped a toddler wade in the cold water while the little girl’s mother, bulky with another pregnancy, watched gratefully. Sophie kept her sunglasses on, not ready to meet anyone yet. The situation with Zack buzzed endlessly through her thoughts, agitating her so much she had to jump up and stride along the beach or throw herself into the cold waves. Was she doing the right thing to keep the present circumstances between Zack and her a secret from her children? She thought she was. Children didn’t need to know everything about their parents. Besides, this was
vacation,
vacation for the three of them, paid for by fabulous Aunt Fancy’s legacy. Sophie didn’t want to ruin this magical time with a newsflash that would, at the least, complicate what should be a glorious holiday.
    And so far it was pretty darned glorious. It was a treat to have Trevor buying the groceries and lugging them into the house. It was a real joy for Sophie to have five people to cook for, four of whom—Leo was still cautious about what he ate—devoured her meals with gusto. She enjoyed trying new recipes, and at home she had once cooked wonderful dinners, but as the years passed and Zack stayed out late on business and the kids had ballet practice or baseball games, dinners became casual, often catch as catch can, and Sophie really only cooked on the holidays. The scent of fresh herbs, the glory of a fat red tomato, the challenge of recipes she discovered on the Internet or on suggestion cards given out at the fish market, brightened her life. She liked it very much, too, sitting at the table watching the others savoring her meals. Somehow it made her feel warm with satisfaction.
    Not to mention: the piano. It waited for her like a childhood fantasy, tempting her to return. She played it only when everyone else was out of the house, and that was rare. She almost wondered whether she
should
play the piano. She needed her friends, Bess and Angie, to come down. Bess was sweet and practical; Angie was no-nonsense and interfering. They’d known each other forever, the three of them. Bess and Angie had supported Sophie in high school when she gave up so much of a normal adolescent life in order to focus on her music. They would help Sophie decide what to do now.
    But for now, this week, this period of sunshine, laughter, delicious food, and deep, refreshing sleep as cool salt air blew through the bedroom window, for now Sophie was astonished by the gifts of the world.
    —
    The seventh night, Trevor and Sophie sat on the patio after getting the kids to bed. The dark sky, the hush of the household, and a healthy sense of exhaustion after the bright, busy day