says. “At least, according to Aisling.” And they both laugh as Jordana closes the door of the workshop behind her.
Chapter Five
"Isn’t this nice?” Bee reaches over at La Guardia and strokes Daniel’s arm, and he smiles at her, wondering if perhaps his sense of being lost is an overreaction, for he does love Bee, does love so many aspects of his life.
“What do you think the girls are doing?” Daniel says, and Bee laughs.
“Are we going to spend the entire time talking about the girls?”
“Isn’t it crazy? Our first trip in years without them, and I miss them so much.”
“Stella was very upset, but they’ll be fine. My dad will spoil them rotten.” Bee smiles. “He was so excited to have them, and it turns out he really does know Nantucket well. He’s given me a list of places we have to visit.”
She glances down at Daniel’s suitcase. “Why is it I can come away with nothing, and you seem to have packed your entire wardrobe?” she says, attempting a laugh which doesn’t quite conceal the irritation behind the comment.
“Because I haven’t been to Nantucket before and I have no idea quite what to wear. I’ve got ‘preppy’ covered with polo shirts and pink and green, and ‘old Yankee’ with seersucker and flip-flops. I just wasn’t sure and I hate getting things wrong.”
“I’ve got three T-shirts, a black jersey dress in case we go out and two pairs of shorts,” Bee says. “I could have packed in a backpack. I’m the girl, I’m supposed to be the one who brings the trunk for the weekend, not you.”
Daniel shrugs and tries to laugh at himself. “You know I’m an old woman,” he says eventually.
“Yes, you are.” Bee looks at him with affection in her eyes. “That’s one of the reasons why I love you.”
“I know,” he says, and he knows he ought to say “I love you too”—the words are on the tip of his tongue, and he tries to say them, he looks at her knowing she’s waiting to hear those words— but instead he finds himself rubbing her knee affectionately before standing up. “I’m going to get a newspaper,” he says abruptly. "Shall I get you a People ?” And he turns and walks toward Hudson News before it gets anymore difficult.
Daniel has never been able to say “I love you” with ease. He wasn’t brought up like that, he often tells Bee, although that isn’t quite true. His father was cold and distant, but his mother had always showered him with love, and he had always and easily told her he loved her.
Bee was also an only child, and the apple of her parents’ eye. Both of them told her that she was the most precious child in the world, and that no one could possibly love a child more than they loved her, and she believed them. She grew up in a world of safety, security and outward expressions of love, and believed her parents to have a perfect marriage until her mother left her father after she went to college.
“I am tired of the secrets,” her mother once said, and Bee had asked what she meant, but her mother had just shaken her head wearily and said she didn’t want to talk about it, and Bee hadn’t wanted to push. She had hoped, for years afterward, that they would get back together, even though she was an adult, even though it shouldn’t have made any difference to her, but despite the divorce being amicable, friendly even, her mother always said it was an impossible situation.
Bee had tried to talk to her father about it but he hadn’t said much. Not that this was unusual; her father was often quiet, pensive, lost in another world, except when he was playing with Bee, when he was fully engaged, wholly attentive and brimming over with love for her.
Bee had always assumed that when she got married, her husband would treat her in much the same way as her father had, and she doesn’t understand, has never understood, why she has ended up in a marriage with a man who seems incapable of truly loving.
But Bee is not ready to give up.
Chapter Five
"Isn’t this nice?” Bee reaches over at La Guardia and strokes Daniel’s arm, and he smiles at her, wondering if perhaps his sense of being lost is an overreaction, for he does love Bee, does love so many aspects of his life.
“What do you think the girls are doing?” Daniel says, and Bee laughs.
“Are we going to spend the entire time talking about the girls?”
“Isn’t it crazy? Our first trip in years without them, and I miss them so much.”
“Stella was very upset, but they’ll be fine. My dad will spoil them rotten.” Bee smiles. “He was so excited to have them, and it turns out he really does know Nantucket well. He’s given me a list of places we have to visit.”
She glances down at Daniel’s suitcase. “Why is it I can come away with nothing, and you seem to have packed your entire wardrobe?” she says, attempting a laugh which doesn’t quite conceal the irritation behind the comment.
“Because I haven’t been to Nantucket before and I have no idea quite what to wear. I’ve got ‘preppy’ covered with polo shirts and pink and green, and ‘old Yankee’ with seersucker and flip-flops. I just wasn’t sure and I hate getting things wrong.”
“I’ve got three T-shirts, a black jersey dress in case we go out and two pairs of shorts,” Bee says. “I could have packed in a backpack. I’m the girl, I’m supposed to be the one who brings the trunk for the weekend, not you.”
Daniel shrugs and tries to laugh at himself. “You know I’m an old woman,” he says eventually.
“Yes, you are.” Bee looks at him with affection in her eyes. “That’s one of the reasons why I love you.”
“I know,” he says, and he knows he ought to say “I love you too”—the words are on the tip of his tongue, and he tries to say them, he looks at her knowing she’s waiting to hear those words— but instead he finds himself rubbing her knee affectionately before standing up. “I’m going to get a newspaper,” he says abruptly. "Shall I get you a People ?” And he turns and walks toward Hudson News before it gets anymore difficult.
Daniel has never been able to say “I love you” with ease. He wasn’t brought up like that, he often tells Bee, although that isn’t quite true. His father was cold and distant, but his mother had always showered him with love, and he had always and easily told her he loved her.
Bee was also an only child, and the apple of her parents’ eye. Both of them told her that she was the most precious child in the world, and that no one could possibly love a child more than they loved her, and she believed them. She grew up in a world of safety, security and outward expressions of love, and believed her parents to have a perfect marriage until her mother left her father after she went to college.
“I am tired of the secrets,” her mother once said, and Bee had asked what she meant, but her mother had just shaken her head wearily and said she didn’t want to talk about it, and Bee hadn’t wanted to push. She had hoped, for years afterward, that they would get back together, even though she was an adult, even though it shouldn’t have made any difference to her, but despite the divorce being amicable, friendly even, her mother always said it was an impossible situation.
Bee had tried to talk to her father about it but he hadn’t said much. Not that this was unusual; her father was often quiet, pensive, lost in another world, except when he was playing with Bee, when he was fully engaged, wholly attentive and brimming over with love for her.
Bee had always assumed that when she got married, her husband would treat her in much the same way as her father had, and she doesn’t understand, has never understood, why she has ended up in a marriage with a man who seems incapable of truly loving.
But Bee is not ready to give up.
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