“He was twenty-four,” Landry pointed out.
“Were you like that at twenty-four?” she asked.
“Nah. I was too serious.”
She chuckled. “You got over that, I guess.”
“It took some doing. I, too, was married at twenty-four. And looking back on it, it probably shouldn’t have happened, either.”
“Um, lest we forget, you’re still married.”
“Yes and no,” he said. “I mean, yes, I didn’t get divorced because it really didn’t seem important. But we did have the talk. When I pointed out to her that we never saw each other and sometimes didn’t even talk for weeks, she said, ‘But when we are together it’s so wonderful and I love you!’ And I said if we’re not going to live like a married couple, why should we be married? It was a very emotional showdown and she said if I wanted to get divorced she wouldn’t try to stand in my way. That clearing of the air changed things. I moved up here from San Francisco and moved in with my dad. I had more room to work and when she did visit, which wasn’t often, she took the guest room.”
“Was your heart broken?” she asked.
“Sure. The thing I couldn’t get past was that she didn’t love me enough to make a sacrifice for our marriage. I offered to move, to change whatever had to change so we could be together, but she said our living in different places wouldn’t last forever. She was wrong—it did last forever. Eventually I got over being mad or hurt. She had a dream and she wanted it so bad, nothing was going to get in her way. So, I kind of let it go. I let her go.”
“But you didn’t get divorced,” she reminded him.
“First of all, I was busy, trying to make it in my little art world. I’ll never be world famous, but I do a good little business. Then my dad died suddenly. He hadn’t even had a chance to retire, the poor guy. That preoccupied me for a long time. Getting a divorce to make it official was the last thing on my mind.”
“But what are you going to do about the fact that she still loves you! It’s obvious.”
“Kaylee, I might be greedy, but that’s just not enough love to keep me going. A phone call every week or two, a little small talk, a visit two or three times a year? Once she came up here from LA to rest because she was exhausted from a really tough movie and she stayed in the guesthouse, your house, and got two weeks of rest. But she went back. She’s driven. There’s no room in her world for a husband.”
“Huh. Well, I’m very sorry that happened to you.”
“Thanks, but I’m all right. So, your ex? Is he still around?”
“Sort of. We have a lot of mutual friends so I get the occasional updates. Some have been good. He got married and had a couple of kids real fast and it looked like he found the right woman, one who could make it work. Then he got fired and I heard they’d fallen on hard times. Then he got back to work and I heard they were getting on their feet. Then they divorced and I actually felt bad. I mean, they had kids.
“But back to your original question. My mom brought me up here after my divorce so I could whimper and cry and lick my wounds. We borrowed the Templetons’ house and stayed ten days. It took me a lot longer than ten days, but I love it here. My mom loved it here.”
“Were you ever tempted again? To get married?”
“Not once. In the past ten years I’ve dated a few very nice guys. One was my boyfriend for a year! But I was busy with work, lots of travel with my job, I had my mom and her friends and my friends and besides, I liked living alone. And after Dixon, all I’d have to do is remember his rowing machine under the bed and his dirty clothes on the floor and I was over it.” She smiled at Landry. “I’ve seen your house and your guesthouse. I might marry you. You’re very tidy. And considerate.”
“And married.”
“Ah, yes and no.”
And they laughed and laughed.
“I saw Dixon last year,” she said. “He’s bald and has put on about forty pounds. He looks sloppy and pale. That made me so happy.”
* * *
Landry was taken with Kaylee and he’d known that almost immediately. She caught a man’s eye, for one thing, but he was no longer twenty-four and it took a lot more than that to interest him. Despite her admitted vulnerability, still grieving her mother’s death, she was solid. Or maybe the fact that she knew she was vulnerable was a strength. He loved hearing her talk, explain things, describe things. She was articulate and intelligent. There didn’t seem to be a wishy-washy bone in her body even though she had a lot to work out. She was late turning in a book for which she’d been paid, for one thing. She was worried about it, but she was powering through. That took strength and determination. He knew only too well, as he often made contracts on art that was not yet created.