Chapter 1
Francine Winters tossed a suitcase on the bed, spreading both sides open like wings. Packing for a trip to the beach was the last thing in the world she wanted to be doing right now. But it couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t disappoint her daughters.
She grabbed two sundresses and her favorite pair of capri pants from the walk-in closet, ignoring the one long, empty side. There was no reason she shouldn’t spread out her things and take over that side of the closet, and yet, she hadn’t.
She walked back to the bed and carefully folded each item before placing them in the suitcase. Her daughters had suggested she find a fancy dress for the celebration, but she hadn’t found the time. Or, more honestly, she hadn’t wanted to go shopping. Not for a dress she’d wear one time and then give away because she surely wouldn’t want to keep it and the memories attached to it.
How had she let herself be talked into the whole ordeal? But she could do it, couldn’t she? Just seven days.
Seven days of pretending.
Seven days of lying to her daughters.
Her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t one for telling lies, even if it was a lie of omission. But two weeks ago, when her daughters surprised her and her husband, Will, with this trip, neither of them had the heart to tell the girls no.
A celebration of forty years of marriage. Their anniversary. But that didn’t really matter now, did it? Well, it mattered. They had two wonderful daughters together.
She and Will had actually asked the girls over that night to tell them things were going to be different. That Will was moving out—not that he’d actually found a place yet. But then the girls sprang the trip on them, and neither one of them wanted to disappoint their daughters. So here she was. Packing for a family vacation ending with a fancy dinner on their fortieth anniversary.
She closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the mere thought of the coming week. She sensed it more than heard as Will stepped into the bedroom. She opened her eyes and turned slowly around.
“Frankie, you about packed?” He stood awkwardly in the doorway.
“No, not yet.”
“I… uh… I need something from the bottom drawer of the dresser. Guess I didn’t get all my things out of here.”
She nodded as he walked over to the heavy, dark cherry dresser and opened one of the bottom drawers. He’d always used the bottom drawers and left the top ones with easy access for her. He pulled out a couple of folded t-shirts and stood up straight. “Sorry.” The pain in his eyes was only thinly veiled.
“No, that’s fine.”
“We’ll drive together?” He cocked his head to one side, his eyes questioning her. And that was a change. Will was always certain of himself, of his decisions. Of… everything. But not so much in the last six months or so.
“Of course. Yes. Together. I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.” It would be silly to drive separate cars—not to mention awkward if the girls found out. But this meant she had a bit over an hour in the car with Will. Longer than they’d been together, just the two of them, in months.
Will nodded and disappeared out the door, his footsteps echoing on the wooden
floor as he walked toward the guest bedroom. Her heart squeezed in her chest, and the enormity of the ruse they had to maintain this week suffocated her.
Maybe they should have just told the girls the truth.
But they’d been so excited about this trip. Both had taken the week off from work. Katie probably made most of the plans. Her oldest daughter was a planner, a doer. Her younger daughter, Stacey, always went along with whatever Katie wanted. It had always been that way. She wondered, often, why neither of them was married. Neither of them had given her the grandchildren she thought she’d have by now. The ones she would read to and take to the park and teach how to swim in their pool.
But no babies, no spouses. Well, Stacey had been married for a brief period in her early twenties, but that marriage crashed and burned a fiery death within six months.
Frankie thought she’d given them an excellent role model of a perfect marriage. Caring parents. Involved in their lives, their studies, and the sports they played. Going to teacher conferences and taking them on yearly family vacations. The perfect family life, right?
Well, at least until this last year. But the girls knew nothing about that. And they weren’t going to hear about it this week, either. Both she and Will agreed with that. Plenty of time to tell the girls after they got back from their trip.
But they would have to tell them before the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays came around. She couldn’t bear to put up a charade for the holidays. They’d have to figure out some way to handle all that. Maybe they could do Thanksgiving with their father and Christmas with her?
The magnitude of the impending changes sucked the breath out of her when she thought about it. But now wasn’t the time to think about it. Now was the time to march into the bathroom and get her makeup and curling iron. Grab her favorite face lotion and hairbrush. Finish packing and get going.
She should have packed last night and given herself more time to make choices. Decide what to wear. What to bring. But last night she’d sat alone in the large, king-sized bed and eaten a pint of cookies-and-cream ice cream instead of dealing with the packing as if that would make the whole week disappear.
It hadn’t.
She looked in the mirror and put on a practiced smile. Did it look genuine? Maybe,
if no one looked at her eyes.
***
Will disagreed with Frankie’s decision to not tell the girls about their separation. But Frankie was so adamant about it. He was having the hardest time figuring out this woman he’d been married to for almost forty years. He thought he knew everything about her. What she liked. What she didn’t like. What she was thinking. But now? Now he never knew anything and walked around on eggshells trying not to irritate her—or worse, disappoint her.
He let out a long sigh as he shoved the t-shirts he’d retrieved from their bedroom—no, Frankie’s bedroom—into his suitcase. The girls were terribly excited about this big surprise trip they’d planned for the anniversary. ...
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