She gave a soft laugh. “How much time do you have? It’s a long story.”
“I have time for a cup of coffee after this, if you’d like.”
“I would, thank you.” They finished touring the rooms, discussed some very simple ideas, and headed back downstairs.
A few minutes later, they sat outside at a table under an umbrella, sipping French press coffee with cream.
“This is definitely the best room in the house,” she said, looking around at the potted palms and the sunshine glinting on the large, contemporary pool.
“I work out here a lot,” he said. “Makes the poor schmucks on Wall Street jealous.”
“What do you do, exactly?”
“Investments, mostly,” he said. “I worked for a huge bank for decades, but was able to spin off my own fund a few years ago.” He lifted his coffee cup and gave her a pointed look. “So how did you and your family come to own that house on Gulf Shore Drive?”
She opted for the short version of her long tale, leaving out the part about her father dying in prison while serving time for white-collar crimes. Instead, she explained that they all had homes in Atlanta, but years ago, they’d spent summers in a much smaller cottage on the same property.
“My mother held on to it as a rental until last year, when she decided to rebuild a much bigger house and give it to us.”
“Now that’s a good and generous parent.”
Also demanding and difficult, but she kept Maggie’s shortcomings to herself. “Yes, but we haven’t decided if we’re keeping it or selling.”
“From an investment standpoint? Definitely keep it,” he said. “I mean, if you can.”
“That’s my vote,” she replied. “Now that I’ve lived there for two months, I’d like to stay here in Destin and build my design business.”
“Nothing keeping you in Atlanta?” he asked. “Or…no one?”
She smiled at the sly question. “I’m recently divorced,” she said softly. “Nothing really compelling to keep me there.”
“How recent?” he asked.
“Well…the ink isn’t quite dry.”
“Oh.” He leaned back and studied her, thinking. “How are you feeling, then?”
She appreciated the question. “I’m okay. It wasn’t really my doing,” she added. “My husband had a classic mid-life crisis and woke up one morning wanting…more than I was apparently giving him.”
He winced. “Oof. Sorry, Vivien.”
“It was complicated, since I work for his home building company. Well, I did.”
“Kids? Oh, wait. I met your daughter. Lacey?”
“That’s her. My one and only, also my dearest friend. Currently sharing a room, that’s how close we are.”
He chuckled, but his smile faded. “I don’t have kids,” he said. “Huge miss in my life.”
“Were you ever…”
“Married? Yes. Briefly in my thirties, to another investment banker. We were more married to our jobs than each other.” He looked down at his coffee. “It ended before it got messy.”
“That’s probably rare.”
“It felt like a relief,” he said, meeting her gaze again. “Which told me everything I needed to know.”
“It’s never easy,” she said. “And probably a blessing you didn’t have kids.”
