The Summer Seekers Read online

  Her insides did an elaborate dance that included a spin and possibly a pirouette.

  No, Martha. No, no, no. Yes, she felt sympathy, yes he was sexy—but none of that changed the fact that Josh Ryder was absolutely not her type.

  He was a planner. She was spontaneous. Maybe she should embrace that side of herself instead of constantly trying to shape herself into the person others wanted her to be. She was never going to be the corporate type. She was more like Red Ryder, living life in the moment.

  But Josh thought she was wise.

  Wise.

  Martha focused on the road. She was conscious of Josh in the seat next to her, his knee within touching distance and his hand resting close to hers. It made it hard to concentrate.

  She kept thinking of Kathleen, so bruised by her early experience of love that she’d kept herself at a safe distance from emotions until she’d met Brian. She was urging Martha not to make the same mistake.

  Martha didn’t want to have regrets.

  She didn’t want to make another bad decision, but which option would be the bad decision? Having a fling with Josh, or not having a fling?

  She’d never felt a fraction of this chemistry with anyone else.

  She glanced in the mirror to check on Kathleen and the older woman gave her a cheeky wink.

  Kathleen didn’t say a word, but she didn’t need to. Martha already knew what she was thinking.

  18

  LIZA

  Liza stood in the kitchen, humming to herself as she grated ginger and chopped lemongrass for the salmon fillets.

  She’d spent the day painting, experimenting with a large canvas, applying bold swipes of aqua and green to reflect the colors of this part of the coastline.

  Halfway through the day she’d broken off and jogged to the beach, taken a skin-numbing swim in the freezing ocean, and then jogged back. It was something she’d been doing every day. She felt horribly unfit, her face red and her heart pounding. Sean had a gym membership, and he tried to go at least twice a week. During Liza’s three-month membership she’d managed to go on precisely two occasions, and one of those had been cut short by the school calling asking her to pick up Alice who had fallen during a game of hockey. Deciding that there was no point in paying to sponsor other people’s fitness, she’d canceled her membership. She’d planned to try a yoga class, or maybe jog in the mornings, but there was always something more pressing demanding her time. And when she did find herself with thirty minutes to herself, she couldn’t bring herself to spend it pounding along a path.

  As she’d showered off the salt water, taking time to condition her hair, she’d thought more about her dream to live somewhere like this eventually. There had been a time when she and Sean had talked about it, but like many other things that dream had been squashed out by reality. Why?

  Spending time with Angie had made her ask herself that question. Her friend’s life had changed radically over the past few years, and that change had been forced upon her. But why did you have to wait for a crisis life event to rethink the way you lived?

  And now here she was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for a man who wasn’t her husband.

  Should she feel guilty? Did she feel guilty?

  No. Finn had been generous to her mother. Also, she enjoyed his company.

  And it wasn’t as if Sean was going to know anything about it. If it came up in conversation then she’d talk about it, but otherwise why raise it? It was all perfectly innocent.

  She put the salmon back in the fridge, whisked egg whites with sugar to make meringues and slid them into the oven.

  Feeling thoroughly unlike herself, she selected a track from Finn’s most recent album and danced round the kitchen.

  When the track ended she stopped, breathless, thinking how embarrassed the girls would have been if they could have seen her. They thought she was too old to dance.

  And she’d thought her mother was too old to do a road trip.

  Behavior shouldn’t be dictated by age, she thought. If she wanted to dance, she’d dance. If her mother wanted to travel, she should travel.

  And if she wanted to stay in her home, she should stay in her home.

  The doors and windows were open to the garden and Liza could smell the climbing rose that clustered on the wall next to the window. An idea formed in her head, but she pushed it away. Ridiculous. She was stepping into fantasyland.

  When she was satisfied that she had dinner preparation well in hand, she headed upstairs to change.

  She surveyed her new wardrobe. The problem with so much choice, she thought, was actually choosing.

  In the end she settled on the red dress, because she couldn’t imagine another occasion that she might be able to wear it and a dress like this wasn’t designed to live its life hanging on a rail.

  Her phone rang as she was heading downstairs.

  It was her mother.

  “How’s the adventurer?” Liza fastened her watch. She’d started to look forward to these nightly phone calls with her mother. “How are Martha and Josh? Are your matchmaking attempts working?”

  “I am hopeful. But I didn’t call to talk about them.”

  “Oh?” Liza glanced at the time. She had about half an hour before Finn arrived. “Is everything all right?”

  There was a pause. “Liza, I need you to do something for me.”

  Her mother never asked anything of her.

  Liza sat down hard on one of the kitchen chairs. “Of course.”

  “It’s—difficult.”

  Physically or emotionally? “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

  “Dear Liza. Always so sensible and reliable.”

  Liza studied her sky-high heels. Fortunately this wasn’t a video call, or her mother would see that she’d left sensible and reliable behind in London. “What’s troubling you?”

  “There are letters—”

  Liza sat up straighter. “The ones in your study?”

  “You know about them?”

  “I found them when I was searching for the DVDs. They weren’t where you thought they were, so I checked the desk. The letters were with a ring. Which I assume is a fake diamond?”

  There was a pause. “It’s not fake.”

  Liza went hot and cold.

  Should she mention that it was a valuable object to keep in the house? No. The ring clearly had an emotional significance that she didn’t understand. It was her mother’s business. She swallowed down her words of warning. “How can I help?” It took so long for her mother to respond that Liza glanced at her phone screen, wondering if they’d been cut off. “Hello?”

  “Yes. I’m here. Before I met your father, I was engaged. His name was Adam.”

  Liza stared across the kitchen.

  Her mother had been engaged. To someone who wasn’t her father. Her mother had been in love.

  “The man in the photo. With you and Ruth.”

  “You have a good memory.”

  “He broke off the engagement?” She couldn’t quite believe her mother was telling her this. Talking to her this way. She was afraid she might give the wrong response and cause her mother to retreat again.

  “No, I broke it off. When I discovered that he’d had an affair with Ruth.”

  Ruth. Her mother’s best friend.

  “Oh no, that’s awful—” She’d had no idea. Her mother was so private, Liza hadn’t ever given much thought to what lay in her past. “Did Dad know?”

  Maybe she shouldn’t have asked. She knew how hard her mother found it to talk about anything personal. “Forget it. You don’t have to talk about—”

  “Your father knew. It was the reason he proposed three times. He understood how difficult I found it to make that commitment. I was never good at being close to people after that.” Her usually poised mother was h
esitant and uncertain. “I preferred my relationships to be light and easy.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Nor was she surprised that her mother had broken her connection with Ruth. What did surprise her was that her ultraprivate mother was finally telling her this.

  “I found it hard to trust. I didn’t want to risk my heart again. I protected it carefully, you see. It was my good fortune to meet your father, and he was everything I needed. He is the only person who ever truly knew me.”

  Your mother needs this.

  Liza felt a sudden thud of emotion as she thought of her father, so kind and patient. That was what a perfect partnership was, wasn’t it? Knowing another person and accepting them. Allowing them to be who they were. “Are the letters from Adam or Ruth?”

  “Ruth. I don’t know what they say. I made the decision not to stay in contact.”

  “It must have been so hard.” Surely something like that would be impossible to forgive? It would break any friendship. “You were never tempted to open the letters?”

  “Never.”

  Liza glanced at the time. The last thing she wanted was for Finn to arrive in the middle of her first proper deep conversation with her mother. “Why have you changed your mind?”

  “I had a funny turn. It made me realize that if something happened to me you’d open those letters. Whatever they say, I want you to know the story, Liza. And now you’re going to ask me about my dizzy spell.”

  Finn had mentioned dizzy spells too.

  Liza smothered all the anxious questions that bubbled to the surface. “I’m sure you handled it in whatever way you felt was right. If you’d needed me, you would have called.”

  “I do need you, which is why I’m calling now. I’d like you to read those letters to me, Liza. I know it’s a lot to ask. I don’t know what’s in them. They’re deeply personal. Probably upsetting.”

  But her mother trusted her with them.

  Liza sat up a little straighter. “Would you like me to read them myself first and filter them? I could try and judge whether I think you’d be upset before I read them aloud.”

  “Oh Liza—” There was a pause. “You’re the kindest person. Always have been. No, if we’re reading them, then we’re reading them together.”

  We’re reading them together.

  Liza felt a lump in her throat and a weight in her chest. She and her mother had so rarely done anything together. “Okay. Do you think Adam stayed with her?”

  “I don’t know. I think there’s a strong chance he did the same thing to her that he did to me. Anyway, I didn’t intend for this to be a maudlin conversation.”

  “Do you want me to get them now?” She could still cancel Finn.

  “No. I’m not ready. I wanted to test the water with you, so to speak. But maybe tomorrow we could open the first couple and take it from there.”

  “Of course.” It was such a lot for her mother to have told her, she was probably drained.

  “Tell me about you.” Her mother’s brisk change of subject confirmed that. “Are you enjoying Cornwall?”

  Liza looked at the sunlight on the garden. The small table outside was laid ready for dinner. “I’m loving it.”

  “Good. That house is meant to be enjoyed. Go and enjoy it, and I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon your time if that works for you.”

  Liza ended the call and sat for a moment without moving.

  Her mother wanted her help. Her mother needed her help.

  She felt closer to her after that one conversation than she had in her entire life.

  “Hey—” Finn’s voice came from the doorway. “Is everything okay?”

  Liza shot to her feet. “Hi there! My mother called and I lost track of time.”

  “Bad news?”

  “No.” Although she didn’t know what was in the letters so it was possible that there might be bad news. But whatever it was, she and her mother would handle it together.

  Together.

  “Good.” Finn pulled the baseball hat off his head, but kept on the dark glasses. “You look—incredible.”

  Her conversation with her mother had made her forget that she was wearing her new dress.

  She saw appreciation and warmth in Finn’s gaze and felt embarrassed. What if he thought that the way she’d dressed had been an elaborate attempt on her part at seduction? The idea was horrifying. She never should have bought the dress. It was too much for a casual dinner in the garden, even if the guest was someone like Finn Cool. But it was too late to rush upstairs and change.

  “Come in. As you’re not driving, I’ve made cocktails. I thought we could take them outside.”

  He stepped forward and scooped up the drinks, the movement bringing him closer to her. He smelled of sun and salt and summer and she felt an unfamiliar heat spread through her and then he started telling her a story about the dogs jumping into the sea and she managed to laugh and behave as if she hadn’t just been engulfed by the flame of sexual attraction.

  It had been only a few days, but she’d forgotten how easy it was to talk to him. They laughed, chatted and ate the food she’d prepared, and she was glad she’d worn the dress.

  Finn helped himself to more asparagus. “What’s on your mind?”

  Her mother had been in love.

  “Nothing at all. I’m relaxed, that’s all.”

  “You’ve caught the sun.”

  “I forgot to use sunscreen when I went swimming today.” She pressed her fingers to her cheek. “My face probably matches the dress perfectly.”

  “You look good. Happier than you did when I saw you at the beginning of the week.”

  “That’s what happens when you indulge in a countryside escape.”

  “What were you escaping from?”

  She put her fork down. “I—meant it as a phrase.”

  His gaze lifted to hers. “Did you?”

  She sighed. “No. This was an escape. Of sorts.”

  “If you want to talk about it, go ahead.” He helped himself to more bread. “And if you’re worried about confiding in a relative stranger, let me remind you that I live with the knowledge that every single thing I do could end up as tomorrow’s news. Because of that, I’m probably the most trustworthy person you could ever meet.”

  “How do you manage to lead even a semblance of a normal life when you don’t know who you can trust and who you can’t?”

  “I rely on my instincts—” he raised his glass “—which are sharply honed after multiple betrayals and disappointments.”

  She thought about her mother. “Bad experiences don’t put you off? You’re not tempted to play it safe?”

  “I was eight when I lost my father. There’s a lot I don’t remember about him, but the one thing I remember clearly was his ability to have fun and enjoy the moment, no matter what the circumstances.” He put his glass down. “He was a lot like your mother that way. I try to do the same. It’s not an easy thing to do. People think it’s frivolous and shallow—”

  “But it takes a lot of courage.”

  He smiled. “That’s right. Letting yourself love—live—takes courage.”

  He didn’t understand her mother at all, although he thought he did. Liza could see now that all the traveling, the emotional distance, the way Kathleen lived her life, wasn’t selfishness but self-protection. Even though Liza still didn’t know the details, for the first time in her life she felt as if she understood and understanding changed everything.

  “Yes, it takes courage.”

  “Trying something knowing you might fail, takes courage. Loving, when you know there’s a good chance you’ll get your heart broken.”

  “Yes.” How much courage must it have taken for her mother to allow herself to love Liza’s father after everything that had happened?

  “It’s always easier to protect
yourself but when you build walls around yourself you don’t only keep the bad out, you keep the good out too. I guess that’s why I find your mother so inspiring,” Finn said. “She knows what she wants and goes for it. She doesn’t let fear get in the way. I want to be like her when I grow up.”

  Liza had thought the same thing about her mother, but she knew better now.

  Kathleen had let fear get in the way.

  She stood up and cleared the plates. “Don’t grow up. I think you’re fine the way you are.”

  “Says the woman who tried to kill me with a look when I almost rammed her into a ditch.”

  “You recognized me?”

  “Of course. You’re pretty unforgettable, Liza.” He’d tilted his chair back. Sunglasses concealed his eyes but she didn’t need to see the way he was looking at her. She could feel it.

  Her skin heated as if someone had singed her skin with a blow torch. It had been so long since anyone had flirted with her she wasn’t sure she recognized it. She certainly didn’t know what to do about it.

  No man had told her she was unforgettable. It was like pouring water on a thirsty plant.

  Flustered, she carried the plates into the kitchen and focused on dessert and coffee.

  The light was fading and the tiny lights that her mother had wound around the trees glowed like stars. Liza had always considered the fairy lights to be a surprisingly romantic touch from someone she’d never considered romantic. Her parents had never been tactile or demonstrative. She’d never seen them hug. And yet her father had been devoted to her mother, and Liza understood now that the deep love had been returned.

  “So how are you enjoying your new life?” The way he was looking at her played havoc with her senses. She knew she was on the edge of something deliciously dangerous. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to step forward or back.

  “Not exactly a new life. A break from the old one.” She felt breathless. Could he hear that in her voice?

  “Are you saying you’re going to give up painting when you get home?”

  She thought about how much she’d enjoyed the past week. She’d woken each morning eager to return to the canvas she’d left with reluctance the night before.