How dare he not love me, she thought angrily. If anything, I shouldn’t love him!
There was a time Adele was an adventurous soul, like back in college and grad school. But for the past six to eight years, she’d done little driving, staying close to home, rarely leaving Half Moon Bay.
This was an old town, originally called Spanishtown and settled before the gold rush, officially becoming Half Moon Bay in the late 1800s. The history of the town was carefully preserved. It was a sweet town on the ocean that attracted tourists. This part of San Mateo County was known for farming of vegetables and flowers, surfing and other water sports, a quaint and quiet getaway filled with and surrounded by beautiful state parks, redwoods and wonderful beaches. It got its name from the crescent-shaped harbor just north of the city.
Addie thought of it as calm, sometimes too calm. Maybe a little old-fashioned and stifling. When she was young, she couldn’t wait to knock the dust from that little old town off her shoes, to get out and enjoy the freedom of college in a bigger city. Now that she’d been held hostage there for eight years, she was nearly phobic about leaving.
But leave she would, if only for the day. She wasn’t going to let Justine down, even though it appeared Justine would let her down. They might not be the closest of sisters but if Adele had one shining trait, she was fiercely loyal. She thought she was more loyal to Justine than Justine was to her, but that was okay. She believed that what goes around comes around and she’d invest now, hope for good things to follow.
Plus there was Amber and Olivia, and Addie loved them.
Adele called Justine first thing in the morning. “I know we just talked yesterday but I need to see you, in person, alone, as soon as possible. I’ll drive to San Jose if necessary, but it would be better if you came here. I don’t want to try to talk to you with the girls or Scott around. It’s a very private matter.”
“What’s bothering you, Addie?” Justine asked.
Of course Justine would think it was Adele who had the problem, that it was something she was embarrassed to share or have anyone overhear. “We have to talk. It’s urgent. Please decide where we should do it.”
Justine sighed into the phone. It was clear she couldn’t imagine Addie having a truly urgent issue of any kind.
“I have a lot to do today. Are you sure this can’t wait?”
“I’m afraid it can’t. Do you want to meet somewhere or what?”
“Can you come to me? Scott’s playing golf and won’t be home until after two. Amber and Olivia are both busy with friends, and I expect they’ll be gone all day. If you come to me, at least I can get a few things done in the time I would have spent driving.”
“Okay,” Adele said in a shaky breath. She hated the freeway. And left turns. And other cars. She hadn’t driven to San Jose, forty miles away, in years and she recalled it as traumatic. In fact, she hadn’t driven out of Half Moon Bay in a couple of years. She was used to getting teased about it.
“Wow,” Justine said. “This must be important.”
“It is.”
Adele thought about the one time Justine had really come through for her—when she was brokenhearted, pregnant and alone. Justine was supportive and nonjudgmental.
“These things happen, kiddo,” she’d said. “But you’re doing the right thing. Adoption is a good option.”
“If I can make myself go through with it,” Adele had said. “I feel him moving and I want to hold him.”
“Of course you do. And women do raise their children without fathers all the time. But if you’re serious about that, there are legal ways to make the father responsible. He can pay support. Just think about it. I can help.”
But that option had been taken away from her when the baby didn’t survive. It was Justine who showered her with sympathy, paid for the mortuary and cemetery costs, held her while she cried and encouraged her to grieve, get counseling and try to move on. For that compassion, Adele would be forever grateful.
She did love and admire Justine. She was also quite jealous, an emotion she fought constantly. It was just that until she saw Scott misbehaving, she thought Justine had everything, beautiful home, perfect daughters, happy marriage, great career. She had been so lost in thought that she was almost surprised when she pulled up to her older sister’s house. She had managed the drive without incident.
She looked up and admired the place. It wasn’t an estate or anything, but it was so much larger than the house they grew up in, plus it was relatively new—about fifteen years old. The kitchen was spacious, the great room was grand and welcoming and overlooked a small but beautiful pool and meticulously groomed yard. There were five bedrooms and as many baths, and the third port in the garage was stacked with sporting gear—skis, paddleboards, kayaks, golf clubs, et cetera. Justine and the girls also had skis and bikes and paddleboards, but the gear was by and large Scott’s.