“This is my favorite place of all your houses,” he said as he lay there with an arm around her. “I love it here.”
She could see he did. “I wish my kids could see it one day. They love the beach.” And so did he.
“Maybe they will,” she said quietly, then sat up, and looked down at him with a gentle smile. He always looked so beautiful to her, especially here at the beach, with his blond hair loose and blowing in the breeze. Hers was in a braid, which she often wore at the beach.
“Do you swim here?” he asked with interest.
“It's still pretty cold this time of year. I don't usually brave it until after the Fourth of July, and it's still cold then. It doesn't really warm up till August.” And by then, she'd be in St. Tropez with her children. She wanted Liam to join them for at least one weekend, and had said as much to him, but they hadn't planned it yet.
“Do you have a wet suit at the house?” Liam asked.
“I think Xavier left one here.”
“Maybe I'll go in this afternoon. Want to join me?” She laughed in answer.
“I'm not that crazy. You must be a tourist,” she teased him, and then they walked back to the house.
He found the wet suit in the garage, while she unpacked their things upstairs, and came down looking pale. Every time she saw her bedroom and the huge four-poster bed, she thought of the last time she had seen Arthur, when he told her he loved her, the morning she left for Paris. And the next day he was dead. But she didn't mention it to Liam. It was her private cross to bear, and she didn't want to spoil the weekend for him, or make him feel uneasy in her bed.
He was already wearing the wet suit when she came downstairs. He looked like a very tall, blond seal, and he had tied his long wheat-colored mane into a ponytail. “I'm going in. Do you want to watch me?” He reminded her again of when Xavier was small and whatever he did, was always shouting “Watch me, Mom!”
“Okay.” She followed him onto the beach, and sat down while he waded in. At least it was bearable in the wet suit. She knew it wouldn't have been otherwise. He swam for a few minutes and then came out, dripping the chilly water of the Atlantic all around him.
“Shit, it's even cold in the wet suit.” He shivered, and she smiled.
“I told you.” But he looked as though he enjoyed it.
They walked back to the house then, and she took him upstairs. She had unpacked his things and hung them in the closet next to hers. She had had a lock put on Arthur's closet the year before. Everything was still there. She hadn't cleared it out yet, and had no idea when she would, if ever. This was his house, too. Even now. In some ways, it always would be. Liam was a guest here. He was well aware of it as he looked around the room. There was a strong male influence in the decor. There were a lot of paintings of birds and fish, and a large one of a sailing ship over the bed. She hadn't brought any of her contemporary pieces here. Most of those were in Paris. This was a whole other life. Even he could sense Arthur here, although he'd never known him.
Liam took a hot shower after his swim, and they drank wine, sitting on the porch. She had made a reservation at a small fish restaurant. They drove there at seven, both ordered lobster, and drank more wine. As they chatted over dinner, he could see Sasha relax.
They sat on the porch again when they went home, talking softly in the moonlight, and at midnight, they went upstairs. He could tell this was another one of those places that was sacred to her, and he didn't make love to her that night. They just lay in bed and cuddled. And in the morning, she didn't tell him that she dreamed of Arthur that night. It was a peaceful dream. He was walking away from her on the beach, she didn't try to catch up to him. And when he turned to smile and wave at her, he looked happy, and then he disappeared.
She made Liam a huge breakfast of scrambled eggs and waffles. They had a big well-used waffle iron in the kitchen. Liam made coffee. They walked on the beach, lay on the porch, and Liam took a nap in the hammock. By late afternoon, as the sun started to go down, they decided to spend another night. Their time together there had been absolutely perfect, and just what they needed.
They cooked dinner together that night, slept peacefully, cuddled up together, and drove back to the city on Monday afternoon. She didn't even bother to go to her office. And they had dinner with friends of his in SoHo that night.
They met at an Italian restaurant. There were four artists and two sculptors. They talked about galleries and shows, the work they were doing. They were younger than Liam, she guessed most of them to be in their late twenties and early thirties. Liam introduced her only as Sasha. She stopped and listened as one of them mentioned her gallery over dessert. She was a pretty young woman who said she was going to drop some slides off the next day, as Sasha glanced at Liam, and he smiled. He didn't explain who Sasha was, and on the way back uptown in a cab, she asked him if the girl was any good.
“She will be. She's not ready for you yet.” It seemed funny to her to be anonymous among them. Funnier yet that they didn't realize who she was. There was something about it she liked, although she felt a little bit of a fraud, as she listened to them talk openly about rival galleries and then hers. Her name had come up more than once as a legendary figure.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked with a yawn as she got into bed beside him. She missed the beach.
“I'm going to a Yankees game,” he said with a look of delight.
They were leading a very nice life. Beach, friends, artists, baseball games for him, work for her. It seemed magical and easy to both of them, and she was grateful for his presence. Without meaning to, he had changed her life, and added something she'd never had. A youthful side of life that had eluded her when she married young and had babies. Even before that, she had been busy learning from her father, and then later working for him. She had never led the casual, unconventional life that Liam was still enjoying at forty. None of these people had tasted success yet, or the responsibilities and burdens that came with it. They worked hard but made almost nothing. Few if any were married, and no one but she and Liam had children. They seemed to have no responsibilities at all. Liam did, but his were being taken care of by someone else, his ex-wife and her future husband. She would have liked to meet his children. Maybe one day that would happen. And in the meantime, he still seemed like a child to her.
Sasha was busy at the gallery that week, preparing for the opening the following week. She curated all the shows herself, and sometimes even hung the paintings, working late into the night.
By Friday, she was exhausted and ready for another weekend at the beach. This time they left on Friday, just as she and Arthur used to. They got to the house by nine, sat on the porch, and went to bed early. And this time, ever so gingerly, they made love. Everything seemed to go fine. She was getting used to having Liam in her private world. It was a major step for Sasha, even more than for Liam.
On Saturday, as they walked down the beach, she told him she was invited to a party, and asked him if he'd like to come. It was being given by a well-known Hollywood actress. The movie set had recently discovered the Hamptons, and Sasha had met her two years before through friends. She had received the invitation the month before, and Marcie had reminded her of it on Friday, before Sasha left. It sounded like fun. It was supposed to be a big clambake, with entertainment and a band. When she told Liam about it, he looked surprised at the invitation. She had never invited him to a party before, and he knew she'd been reluctant to do so.
“You want me to come?” He was flattered. She had never offered to take him to any other social event before. This was a first.
“Yes” was all she said, without explanation. He didn't question her further.
The party began at seven, and they arrived at eight. The invitation had said informal, but Sasha knew that some of the women might dress up a bit. She wore white slacks, a white silk sweater, and a string of pearls, with her hair in a loose bun. Liam wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a blazer she had brought for him, without telling him why she had, along with a pair of loafers she had found in his closet in the guestroom.