Free The Beach House by Jane Green Page B

across the road from the ocean where they sat last night, listening to the waves crash and talking about—what else?—how much they miss the girls.
    They drove home after dinner in town and Daniel felt the familiar fear as he climbed into bed. How could they possibly not make love on a weekend away? He braced himself as he listened to Bee in the shower.
    She came out in pretty, white, broderie anglaise pajamas, and climbed into bed next to him, immediately opening up her book, and he began to relax. Perhaps she wasn’t expecting anything after all.
    But then, when they’d turned out the lights, just as he was drifting into sleep, Bee started tenderly stroking his thigh, and he lay with his eyes closed for a while, feeling her fingers circle him gently. He was so relaxed, and it felt really quite good, and so when she snuggled into him he nuzzled her back, and they ended up kissing, then one thing led to another . . . and when they had finished Bee lay her head on his chest and smiled.
    She knew this weekend was exactly what they needed.
    Daff parks her BMW in the driveway and taps her way up the garden path to the front door, her file in one hand, cell phone in the other.
    "Daff !” The front door is flung open and a short blond woman with a small child attached to her right leg extends her arms to give Daff a hug.
    “You look wonderful!” Daff says, and it is true. She has not seen this woman, Karen, since she sold her this house—one of her first big sales—and now she is returning to value it as Karen is unexpectedly pregnant with her third child, and they need something bigger.
    “And who’s this?” Daff crouches down to say hello to the small person. “Oh my goodness!” She looks up at Karen. “I haven’t seen Jack since he was a baby. Look how big you are!”
    She has careful notes about all her clients, their children’s names, ages, where they are in school, their hobbies, interests, where they go on vacation. She has developed a reputation, in a very short time, for being one of the nicest realtors to deal with—always honest, a hard worker, known as being someone who can close a deal and, more importantly, someone everyone likes being around. Most of her clients go on to become friends, and Karen is one of the few that Daff doesn’t see regularly, only because Karen is so busy with her children, her PTA work and her charities.
    “I can’t believe what you’ve done!” Daff says, following Karen into the kitchen. “It’s beautiful.”
    “I can’t wait to show you. The addition is wonderful and I love this house more than anything, but it’s still not going to be big enough when the baby comes.”
    They have coffee, then do the tour, Daff exclaiming over the new master bedroom suite, the walk-in closets, the beautiful sun room with floor-to-ceiling French doors, which used to be a rickety and rather dirty screened-in porch.
    The cherry kitchen, always dark and depressing, has been replaced with white wooden cabinets, black iron hardware and white marble countertops. The whole house has been beautifully decorated, and Daff pauses as she walks up the stairs, the wall being covered with family photographs.
    “I love what you’ve done here.” Daff smiles as she looks at the family pictures, remembering how she once had a picture wall of happy family snaps—until the marriage split up, when she had to take down all the photos of Richard. And knowing that it would pain Jess immeasurably to see just the pictures of her father removed, she proceeded to take down all of them, putting up a large mirror instead, and placing the photos carefully in a box in the garage.
    “Where’s this?” She points to a picture of the family sitting on a deck at twilight, the ocean behind them. “It’s beautiful.”
    “That’s Nantucket. We go there every summer. Isn’t it wonderful?”
    “I’ve never been, but this looks truly gorgeous. Do you have a house there?”
    Karen laughs. “Years and years ago