“I didn’t expect to make friends here,” she said. “I expected to be a different kind of lonely.”
His brow wrinkled. “Different from what?”
“From the kind of lonely I was in Newport. There were lots of people around but there was only one I wanted—my mother. I ached with loneliness.
“My mom and I didn’t live together after I went to college. Oh, there were a few months here and there—while I was waiting for a new apartment to become available or after my divorce while I looked for my own place, just temporary situations. Then when she got sick, I moved home to be with her. After she died, the house became mine, but it was always her house. I couldn’t seem to escape the feeling that I’d just lost her, surrounded by her decorating and her things. That’s why I looked for a getaway. And I’ll go back to that house. It’s a wonderful house with an office on the second floor that looks out to the ocean. It has a large backyard and a pool. I can walk to the beach from there. I want to live in that house again. I just hope I’m stronger when I do.”
“You seem pretty strong now,” he said. “Don’t worry too much, Kaylee. That immediate, crushing feeling of loss will pass. You’ll always miss her. But you’ll start to feel better.”
“Is that how it was for you?” she asked.
“Yes. It took a while, but eventually... Yes, that’s how it is.”
* * *
The next day Landry had an appointment with Brie Valenzuela, Jack’s sister, and a local attorney with a small practice. She opened the door for him to come in, a smile on her face. “So good to see you. I’m glad you called, but I’m confused. You need a divorce?”
“That’s right,” he said, shaking her proffered hand. “I’ll explain.”
He had a seat in front of her desk and laid it out quickly, eleven years married, ten separated. “Laura visited recently and I told her I was done being legally bound and that I’d like it to be official. I’ve been thinking of her as an ex-wife for years. We’re still on very good terms. We’re friends. But we haven’t lived together for a decade.”
“How do you plan to handle the settlement? Will her attorney be contacting me?”
“I doubt there will be any kind of settlement. We’ve both paid our own way since she moved out.”
“You haven’t paid any support or alimony?”
“Nope.”
“Nothing?”
“No. I gave her a few loans that she never repaid, but I wasn’t expecting repayment. Her life as an actress went hot and cold—she’d have a good season followed by waiting for work followed by another role. It wasn’t steady. Thus the loans. She’d need money for rent or to get her by till her next check or for some special thing that would help her in her business. Like, once it was dental work. Very expensive. I helped if I could.”
“And did you also borrow money from her?”
“No, I wouldn’t do that. No, I never asked her for money.”
“I suppose that’s a demanding and uncertain lifestyle, acting.”
“I thought she’d be a star. I thought she was good. When I was over being insulted that she’d choose a career over a marriage, I tried to be supportive.”
Brie folded her hands on top of her desk. “Will she be expecting to receive divorce documents?”
“When we last talked about it she said that I should go ahead and do whatever I felt I should do. I don’t think she’ll be surprised. If she is, it’s only because I’ve done nothing for so long.”
“Okay. Maybe it will go smoothly. I can write it up for you. One piece of advice—even couples on the best of terms can get a little weird or strange when the divorce becomes a reality.”
“Even couples who have been separated for ten years?”
“Completely separated?” she asked.
“She has only visited a few times in the past ten years. She left some things behind when she first left but over the course of a year they slowly found their way to LA, her home since then.”
“So, she also wants the divorce?”
“Well...” He paused. “Actually, on her recent visit she asked if I’d be willing to try again. She says she’s frustrated with acting and it’s not going as she hoped. I told her it was just too late for that. She was a little disappointed, but she said it was up to me.”
Brie just stared him down for a moment. “I’ll need some information—birth dates, Social Security numbers, ID, addresses, date of the marriage. I’ll have the initial documents ready by the end of the week. But Landry, I suggest you call her, tell her of the progress you’ve made.”
“Probably a good idea,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to upset her, though she should be aware this is coming. I told her I would get it going.”
“The reality is this is a no-fault, community property state. If you two don’t agree on the terms of the divorce and decide to each get a lawyer, it can become a very expensive and protracted case. If you can avoid that it will be quick and easy. But don’t be too surprised if you run into a little resistance.”
“In eleven years we’ve hardly had a fight. There were a few tense conversations, but no real fighting.”
“I hope that record holds,” she said. “Now, let’s get that information. If there’s anything you don’t know, you can get it from her and email it to me.”
* * *
That night Landry called Laura. He had to leave a message, which was often the case. Within the hour she called him back.
“Are you in that play you auditioned for?”
“I did get the part. It’s not a big part, but since they’re paying for my hotel I decided I might as well take it. San Francisco is a lot closer than LA.”
Closer to what? he wondered. “Well, I wanted to tell you that I saw a lawyer today and she’s starting the paperwork for a divorce. She’ll write everything up and if we don’t each have a lawyer, it will be cheap and easy, and since I’m the one who wants to do this, I’ll pay for it. I’ll have the preliminary documents by the end of the week. Give me your current address and I’ll send them to you.”
There was no response for a moment. “I see,” she said at long last. “I had really hoped you’d think things over and give us another chance.”
“I’m sorry, Laura, but I’m afraid I’m past all that. Time to move on.”
“Fine. If that’s what you’re going to do. I’ll text you my address.”
She disconnected without saying goodbye.
8
OCTOBER 20 WAS an unforgettable day for Kaylee. It had been a life-changing day. She tried ignoring the significance of the date, but it snuck up on her and left her feeling melancholy and fatigued. She didn’t go for her morning walk, nor did she check on Lady and the puppies. Instead she got out the special suitcase she had brought along with her from Newport Beach. This was only the second time she had opened it since she’d been in Virgin River.
This was her treasure chest. Her secret garden. Inside were artifacts of her mother. Nothing valuable by monetary standards but priceless to her. Inside were sentimental things that helped with the remembering.
Folded neatly on top was her mother’s favorite wrap. It was pale blue, knit with fine, thin yarn, and she’d loved to put it around her shoulders first thing in the morning and sometimes late at night. It was perfect for keeping her from getting a chill. Meredith’s sister, Beth, had made it for her. And with it, the scarf that she loved, Armani, that she had tied around her bald head.
There was a framed picture of Kaylee and Meredith, cheek to cheek, smiling and holding on to each other, their hair blowing in the wind. She loved that picture. She had other favorites, she had filled a small plastic bag with them—in the swimming pool, her first dance recital, snowboarding in the mountains, on the beach, Disneyland and later more recent pictures—out to dinner, a trip to Turks and Caicos, a trip to London, San Francisco and many from Las Patios, which was their joke name for evenings on the patio of Meredith’s house.
There were copies of two books her mother loved—Eat, Pray, Love and Rosie Colored Glasses. She caressed them and decided she would reread them because Meredith loved them. There were some magazines; people didn’t subscribe so much anymore but Meredith and her company had been mentioned in several and the articles had included photos, so into the treasure chest they went. There was a cell phone; Kaylee kept it, kept it charged, checked it often to see if any messages had been left, people she should notify. And she turned off the ringer but called that number sometimes just to hear her mother’s voice answering. She paid the monthly bill to keep the account active. Her mother’s voice was worth fifty dollars a month. Meredith’s Kindle was in the suitcase. It was the most recent record of what Meredith had read. Kaylee intended to read everything her mother had read.
Her mother had a picture of Kaylee as a flower girl that she kept on her bathroom shelf; that went in the suitcase. And she had found in her mother’s desk drawer several cards Kaylee had given her over the years. There was a card from Art, the man Meredith had dated for quite some time, a couple of years maybe, until Meredith had decided to end the relationship because they had too many disagreements on crucial issues—like, he wanted them to live together and Meredith didn’t. In fact, he thought they should marry and Meredith declined. He was constantly giving her advice about how to run her business when perhaps he could use some advice on how to run his. They argued and Meredith wasn’t interested in arguing. “Do I need to get into a power struggle at this late date?” Meredith had said. “I don’t think so.”
Meredith showed Kaylee what Art had written in the card. I’m very disappointed and sorry for whatever I might have done to cause this rift, but if you’ve made up your mind, I guess that’s it. I will always love you.