An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach), Mariah Stewart [best classic novels TXT] 📗

when she told Zach, he laughed and said something like, ‘Yeah, my ex-wife’s a loser,’ and promptly forgot about it.” Grace shrugged. “He just doesn’t care enough to get worked up over something like this.”

“But you think she does?”

“No question about it. She can’t dig her claws in deep enough or often enough. It’s her, not him.”

Natalie appeared skeptical. “You don’t think he’d use something like this to urge you out of the firm?”

“Well, if he did, he’d have been right.”

“What do you mean, he’d be right?” Skepticism turned into indignation. “That’s your firm.”

Grace shook her head. “Not anymore. I can’t go back there. I just can’t take any more, Nat. I’ve been dealing with this shit for months. Got myself to a place where I tried to let it all roll off my back, but that sanctuary is gone now. I just don’t want to do it anymore. You can’t imagine what it’s been like.”

“I get it. At least, I think I do. But still . . .” Natalie’s voice softened.

“Put yourself in my place. Imagine being publicly betrayed by the man you loved. Your husband of ten years. Well, almost ten years. He’s having an affair right under your nose, and you refuse to see it while everyone around you knows what’s going on. Humiliating enough?” Grace’s laugh was harsh and held no touch of humor. “No, of course not. You try to cope by looking for a safe place where you can howl and gnash your teeth, and when you don’t find one, you make one and invite other women to join you and do their own howling. And it helped, that community, that sense of not being quite so alone. I had no idea there were so many people hurting.” Grace stopped, remembering she had to shut down the blog, the sooner the better. “And then someone finds out that you’re behind this and makes sure the entire world knows that you—who have spent your adult life building an admirable, I’m even gonna say respected, career in a professional field—you are a pathetic whiner who can’t get over the fact that the man you love dumped you and turned you into someone who couldn’t handle the rejection and you had to band together with a bunch of other losers.”

“Stop saying ‘loser.’ You’re not a loser.”

“I am in the opinion of the Philadelphia legal community. Have you seen the comments on Philly News and Views Online? Everyone knows I’ve been hiding behind a fake name. Everyone knows I did not deal with the end of my marriage in a mature fashion. If you read some of the comments I made on my blog, you’ll think I’m unstable. Last night I read some of the things I’ve written, and I cringed. I don’t sound intelligent or rational. Anyone reading that shit will know I’d lost it for a while.” Grace shook her head slowly. “I’m done in Philly, Nat. How can I look anyone in the eye after this? No one will ever take me seriously again. Not my clients, not the judges, not my fellow lawyers—a bunch of whom were among the commenters, by the way.”

When Natalie opened her mouth to speak, Grace shut her down. “Don’t bother. There’s nothing you or anyone else can say that would change my mind. I’m moving on. I’m leaving Flynn Law.”

“You’re letting Zach win.”

“Zach has already won.” Grace grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “I’m finished.”

Chapter Eleven

NATALIE

By the time she’d picked up Daisy from day care on her way home from Maggie’s, Natalie was exhausted. Her sister had gotten herself into deep waters—not for the first time in her life—and the bailout had apparently just begun. Their mother had returned home around four in the afternoon, and when Grace had asked Maggie where she’d been, she’d just said, “Not now,” and gone upstairs. They’d heard the shower running in the master bathroom for what seemed like a long time, then . . . nothing. Before leaving to get Daisy, Natalie’d stood outside Maggie’s door for a moment, then, hearing nothing from the other side, knocked softly. When there had been no response, she cracked the door just a bit and saw her mother sound asleep, lying crosswise on the bed, a pillow under her head, her favorite soft throw covering her to her shoulders. Natalie’d closed the door quietly and crept down the steps.

“She’s dead to the world,” Natalie told Grace. “Out cold.”

“I doubt she slept last night. She was really agitated.” Grace looked remorseful. “I really did it this time, didn’t I.” It wasn’t a question. She started to say something else when her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, and she sighed. “Someone else wanting to know if it’s true: Am I really Annie Boleyn? And for all the years I’ve practiced in this city, not one person has called or emailed to offer support.”

Natalie picked up the phone and turned it off. “If you want to speak to anyone, you can call them. In the meantime, it’s just more aggravation. Leave it off.”

Grace nodded as she walked Natalie to the door. “Thanks, Nat. I don’t say it often enough, but I love you. I don’t deserve a sister as good as you.”

“Shut up.” Natalie gave her a hug. “I love you, too, and neither of us say it enough.”

“Give Daisy a big hug for me.”

“Will do. Now get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow about what comes next. For the rest of the day, and tonight, let’s just take a very deep breath and let it all go for a while, okay?”

Grace nodded, standing in the doorway as Natalie made her way to her car. She stopped midway along the path and called back over her shoulder. “Yoga.”

“You think it would help?” Grace called back.

“It couldn’t hurt.”

Natalie took her own advice and rolled out her mat on the family room floor after she got home and started dinner. Daisy had her own little mat from their mommy-and-me