The Restarting Point Read online

  Jade cut her off with a firm shake of her head, not wanting to know what medical advice the woman had gotten from television. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” she said and then smiled.

  Jade turned her head enough to tune into the growing sound in the distance. As soon as she identified the wailing of an ambulance, her stomach bottomed out. “Did you call 9-1-1?”

  “Yes, and it’s a good thing I did,” the woman said, placing a hand on her chest. “You’ve clearly broken your ankle.”

  Jade focused on the joint as she moved it from side to side, despite the pain the motion inflicted. “It’s not broken. Probably just sprained.” Jade gave her neighbor her well-practiced disapproving-mom frown.

  The blaring siren stopped, and Jade watched medics hop out of the ambulance. “This really wasn’t necessary,” she muttered.

  “She’s here,” the woman yelled, as if the medics couldn’t figure that out on their own. “Hurry! Hurry! She’s hurt!”

  “I’m okay,” Jade countered.

  The woman gestured to the balcony above them and explained how Jade had fallen. She even flailed her arms and did that hand-smacking demonstration again. Jade hadn’t considered how ridiculous she must have looked flying through the air until then. Heat settled over her cheeks as a medic crouched next to her. He asked what hurt and how much as he flashed a light in her eyes.

  “This is really unnecessary,” Jade said.

  “Maybe,” the EMT responded. “But Darby is right—”

  Jade blinked and leaned away from the EMT as she recalled the name on her rental agreement. “Darby?”

  The man kneeling beside her blinked as well, but then he jerked his head toward the absurdly dressed woman. “Darby.”

  Jade tilted her head up and, as her mouth hung open, pinned the woman with a narrowed stare. “Darby Zamora?”

  The woman smiled and shrugged slightly, as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. No wonder she’d been so concerned about Jade’s fall. She owned that dump.

  Jade jolted when pain shot through her leg.

  “You need X-rays,” the EMT said.

  Scowling at the slumlord, Jade said between gritted teeth, “I’m not going in an ambulance. Ms. Zamora can drive me.”

  Though the cabin’s faux leather sofa wasn’t long enough to accommodate her, Jade managed to make herself comfortable while resting her ankle between a pillow and a bag of frozen peas. The pain was considerably less after several hours of resting and a heavy dose of painkillers, but the throbbing continued even as the day went on. After another round of icing her ankle, she hoped the pain would decrease enough to move to one of the chairs she’d spotted on the rock patio overlooking the water.

  A few hours into babying her ankle while reading the vampire romance novel she’d found in the bedroom, and this so-called vacation was already starting to wear thin. Nothing about this trip was going as planned. First her kids canceled, then Nick had a conflict, and then she’d taken a literal flying leap and injured herself. Despite her determination to look at the bright side, she was starting to feel like this trip wasn’t meant to be.

  Jade tossed the book that had failed to catch her interest aside and rolled her head back. Right above her, a water leak had left a stain on the ceiling. The shape reminded her of an image that might be flashed in a Rorschach Inkblot Test.

  And what do you see here? a therapist might ask.

  Cancer cells, she’d answer, slowly eating away at my insides until there’s nothing left.

  Jade closed her eyes, lowered her head, and rubbed her fingertips into her temples. She’d spent far too much time over the last year in doctors’ offices and clinics and operating rooms. As determined as she was to put all that behind her and focus on the future, the fear was there. Sitting in the emergency room earlier hadn’t been nearly as traumatizing as fighting cancer. But still, her anxiety had been triggered and continued to linger in the back of her mind.

  Her doctor had told her fear was normal, healthy even. To an extent. She couldn’t let it ruin her life or cripple her. However, she should always be aware that, as a survivor, her chances for a relapse were elevated. “But don’t live in fear,” she’d been told.

  Easier said than done.

  Jade glanced at the phone sitting on the coffee table beside her. She’d called Nick on her way to the hospital to let him know she’d fallen and then again on her way back to the cabin to let him know she had a minor sprain. He hadn’t answered either call. While she and Nick had never been the clingy type of couple, over the last year, she’d come to realize how much she needed him. They’d always operated independently of each other to a point. He had his life, she had hers, and they’d come together in the middle for family time. Having cancer, however, had brought her to her knees, and she didn’t know how she would have made it through if not for the love and support of her husband.

  That had changed their relationship in a lot of ways. The biggest, for her anyway, was how much she’d come to rely on his encouragement to get through. They’d been together for so long, she’d started taking him for granted. But having him by her side had reminded her how lucky they were to have each other. If it were possible, she’d go so far as to say she’d fallen in love with him all over again. He’d been her anchor in the storm, the lighthouse in the harbor, and she’d never known how much she’d counted on him until her diagnosis.

  She’d also never needed pep talks before her health had taken a bad turn. However, she could use one now. Her mind was spiraling into the darkness of the what-ifs that haunted her post-remission. Hearing his voice, even through the phone, would be a welcomed distraction from the frustration looming over her.

  Jade was thinking anything would be a welcomed distraction when the door swung open.

  “Knock, knock,” Darby sang as she poked her head in without actually knocking. Nor did she wait for Jade to invite her in before entering. She held out a plastic container from the grocery store and lifted a bottle of wine. “I thought you might need these. I hope you like mint brownies and red wine.”

  Jade had always adored both. However, she’d completely altered her diet after her diagnosis. She’d never been a heavy drinker, but as soon as she’d read that alcohol and junk food increased the risks for the type of cancer she’d had, she’d cut those indulgences from her life. She hadn’t had either in over a year. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  After easing her offerings onto the table, Darby faced Jade. “Yes, I did. I am really glad your ankle didn’t get hurt worse. That’s definitely worth brownies and a moderately priced bottle of Malbec.” She grinned. “And…” She opened the door again, reached out, and then spun dramatically. “Look at these.” Darby beamed as she held up two gold-painted crutches covered in gems of varying size, shape, and color. “I dug them out of my closet for you to use as long as needed.”

  Jade widened her eyes as she stared in shock. Gaudy was an understatement. The display before Jade was atrocious.

  “Wow,” Jade said for lack of any other words. “Thanks.”

  “I, too, sprained my ankle once.” Darby set the crutches against the coffee table and within Jade’s reach. “You should never do cartwheels on a stage. While wearing vinyl platform boots. And drinking heavily.”

  “Yeah,” Jade said, drawing the word out a bit. She didn’t have to think too hard to see the image Darby had created. “That sounds like it would be a bad idea.”

  “Speaking of drinking, let’s get to that wine.” Darby turned toward the table where she’d left the bottle.

  “Oh, thanks, but I don’t drink,” Jade said.

  Darby stopped, frozen in time for a few beats, and then spun around and cupped her ear as if she hadn’t heard. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I don’t drink. I had… It’s bad for my health. I’ll take a glass of water, though.” Jade could almost see the gears in the other woman’s brain spinning as she processed the
information. Jade had almost slipped in the bit about her cancer, but sometimes the words still stuck deep in her chest like a fist not ready to release its hold. The ability to share her struggles as freely as she’d heard others with major illnesses do was not something she’d mastered. She suspected she’d get there, but that was a skill she had to work on.

  “You don’t drink? How do you get through the day?”

  Jade giggled as Darby stared with obvious confusion. “Slowly.”

  “I can’t imagine,” Darby said as she again pressed a hand to her chest.

  Earlier, while lying flat on the ground and then again while sitting in an exam room filled with anxiety, Jade had been too distracted to consider how much effort Darby must put into presenting herself. Not only styling her hair and however long she’d spent putting on her makeup, but the style and colors of her clothing were such a clear representation of the person inside. Jade had always gone for boardroom executive on the inside and outside. Her practical hair, makeup, and clothing had represented her well. Until recently.

  So much had changed in the last year, and Jade’s mind was reeling from it all. She never would have thought she’d admire the confidence of an eccentric decade hopper. She wished she had the strong sense of self that Darby radiated. Part of Jade suspected Darby’s outlandish style was a form of attention seeking, but she had the confidence to pull it off, and confidence was definitely something Jade had been lacking in recent months.

  She watched curiously as Darby set two stemmed glasses on the counter and worked on removing the twist top from the wine. She filled one glass but added several ice cubes to the other and held it under the faucet. She glanced at Jade, as if to confirm, before turning on the tap.

  As Darby carried the glasses into the living room, Jade couldn’t help but ask, “How did you settle on this look?”

  “What look?”

  “Your clothes, your hair, your makeup.”

  Darby glanced down at her outfit and then smirked slyly at Jade and held out the wineglass of ice water. “This isn’t a look, Mama. This is a lifestyle.”

  A lifestyle? Unlikely. Darby’s appearance was a statement. The type of show she was putting on was usually someone’s attempt at making fun of themselves so other people didn’t have the chance. The class clown survival mentality. I know I don’t fit in, and I’ll be the first to say it so you can’t.

  Since Jade was taking up the couch, Darby sat on the coffee table next to her. Once again, her overly made-up face turned into a sad pout. “Listen, I really have been meaning to get this place fixed up. I was hoping to make it through the summer. Give me some time to make a little…” She rubbed her thumb across her fingertips in the universally accepted sign of money. She dropped her hand to her lap and let her shoulders sag. “Being in the rental business is a lot harder than I thought it would be. People keep demanding refunds.”

  Jade tried to bite back the words, but the truth rushed from her lips. “Because your ad is deceitful.”

  “I wouldn’t say deceitful as much as…slightly overstated.”

  “The pictures show a clear view of the lake,” Jade pointed out.

  Gesturing in the general direction of the larger body of water, Darby said, “You can see the lake from here.”

  Jade used that disapproving mom look again. “I almost broke my leg trying to see the lake from here. Your pictures lie. Your ad lies. The reason people want refunds is because you aren’t giving them what they paid for.”

  A frown tugged at Darby’s red lips. “Everybody lies in advertising, Jade. Do you really think buying a pair of tennis shoes will turn you into a pro athlete or diet soda will make you skinny? It won’t. Trust me. I tried.”

  “That’s a little bit different than selling this place as having a lake view when you have to squint through the trees to see it.”

  “Well, in the autumn, when the leaves fall—”

  “Darby,” Jade said firmly and shook her head. “You could still rent this cabin without all the false advertising. It is on the water and it is cozy. People who want water access without the crowds would like this. But you have to be straightforward about what they’re getting.”

  “Are you going to request a refund?”

  Jade widened her eyes. “Are you serious? I fell through your porch. You had to take me to the emergency room.”

  A pleading look fell over Darby’s face. “I’m going to get the banister fixed. But…I kind of… I won’t have the money if I have to pay you back.”

  “Darby—” Jade started.

  “Jade, please,” Darby said. “Please. I promise I’ll make sure you have the best vacation ever, but…I can’t give you a refund and fix the porch.”

  Though she was certain she was being played, Jade’s resolve crumbled. Darby was a grown woman, yet she appeared to be completely unprepared for adulthood. As an executive, she’d had little patience for staff who couldn’t fulfill their obligations. The kind of ineptitude Darby was showing had always been a trigger for Jade, but she was softer now. Maybe too soft, considering that the cabin wasn’t simply a disappointment, it was dangerous. She had every right to demand her money back. But Jade didn’t want the hassle of pressing Darby for a refund.

  “Okay,” Jade said, “I won’t ask for my money back, but you have to reschedule my stay. I don’t want to spend a week sitting on your couch. I’ll go home and talk to my husband to figure out when we can reschedule.”

  Darby held out her hand, indicating she expected Jade to seal the deal with a handshake. Instead, Jade held up her hands and showed Darby the scrapes on her palms. Darby switched from a handshake to a solitary pinky and waited until Jade entwined their little fingers.

  “Deal.” Darby didn’t let go when a normal person would. Instead, she tightened her pinky around Jade’s. “And you won’t sue me, right? Because it was an accident.”

  Jade pressed her lips together. There was a difference between an accident and negligence. However, she suspected suing Darby wouldn’t be worth the effort. She only had a sprained ankle and some scrapes, and Darby couldn’t even afford to fix the banister. Even if Jade wanted to sue for damages, Darby wouldn’t be able to pay.

  “No. I won’t sue you, but when I come back, that banister better be fixed.”

  “It will absolutely be fixed.”

  Jade couldn’t help but laugh when Darby squealed as they sealed the deal like they were teenage girls.

  Two

  Jade had tried to reach Nick several times before giving up and heading back to Fairfax. She understood how all-consuming hiccups on projects could be—she’d experienced her share during her career—but she was starting to get concerned. Nick had been working hard to keep his business thriving while also nursing her through her illness. As frustrating as it could be that he wasn’t answering his phone, she did understand. But part of her couldn’t help but think he should have at least texted her by now. She didn’t want to think something was wrong, but fear had started to nag her.

  Cursing at her clumsy movements, Jade stumbled into her and Nick’s house on Darby’s flamboyant crutches. She hadn’t wanted to take them, but Darby had insisted. As she tried to hobble from the cabin to her car, Jade had reluctantly admitted she needed them. Without the gem-covered crutches, she wouldn’t have made it. Even though they hurt her scraped palms, walking hurt more, so she’d chosen the lesser of the two.

  Jade closed the front door and called out to Nick but stopped at the shock of what she was seeing.

  The bookshelf along the far wall was nearly empty. There were photos missing from the wall, and the portrait of Nick’s grandfather, which Jade had always found creepy, was gone. Next, her gaze landed on a stack of boxes labeled with black marker in Nick’s crappy handwriting.

  Books. Pictures. Painting.

  Jade furrowed her brow as she staggered farther into the half-packed living room. They had been discussing doing some light remodeling now that the boys were in college. She’d spent th
e last few months of her treatment gathering images for inspiration. She’d saved them to an online board that she’d shown her husband time and time again. Maybe the project that had kept Nick from joining her in Chammont Point was supposed to be a surprise.

  But why were pictures of her family and her books still sitting out? Why would he separate them by owner? Her stomach twisted in on itself. Her mind was coming to conclusions that her heart didn’t like. His belongings were no longer adorning the room. His belongings were inside labeled boxes.

  Hers were not.

  She was taking in the scene when he walked out of the kitchen with a beer, excitedly talking about something. Jade couldn’t hear him over the thumping of her heart. Right behind him, a woman laughed. But she froze at the sight of Jade supporting her weight on crutches. Nick froze too. Then he cursed and blew out a big breath.

  Time seemed to stand still as Jade and her husband stared at each other. Her stomach suddenly felt like an empty void into which her heart just kept falling and falling with no end in sight. Her chest, still sore from her crash landing earlier, grew tight, and her mouth went dry.

  Jade thought she should say something, but she had no idea what. The tension in the room flared to a point where there was barely any oxygen left to breathe. Though she tried to deny what was obvious, her heart shattered, and the acidic burn of tears filled her eyes.

  She opened her mouth, intending to demand an explanation, but the words lodged in her throat.

  She didn’t need to ask what he was doing. She already knew. The evidence was clear. He was leaving. For the woman standing next to him. He hadn’t joined her in Chammont Point to begin Life 2.0 because he had no intention of taking part in her new life.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Nick looked at the woman next to him. “Would you wait in the kitchen, please?”

  She didn’t hesitate to dart away. Relief seemed to fill her eyes as she rushed out of the room, leaving Nick and Jade to sort out whatever the hell was happening. Once they were alone, Nick set his beer down and shoved his hands into his pockets. He met Jade’s eyes with a pitiful gaze.