Page 29 of Escape to Lighthouse Cove

She imagined Brad’s reaction to her wearing it and almost laughed out loud.

She and Becca spent a fun few hours poking around in various stores, and then Grace insisted she treat them all to lunch at the Happy Crab. Becca had crab cakes, Jacob pizza, and Grace splurged on a burger—something Brad would have never let her eat.

There was, she reflected, so much wrong with that sentence, starting with, why had she let her husband dictate what she ate fortwelveyears? Worse yet, she hadn’t even realized she’d been doing it. He wouldn’t have forbidden her outright, of course. Just raised an eyebrow, asked in a voice dripping with faux concern whether she wanted something so heavy. And she hadn’t even been able to recognize his behavior for what it was—cruel manipulation and gaslighting. Thank God she’d gotten out when she had, even if it had taken her so long.

They were still eating lunch when Jacob tugged on Grace’s sleeve and then nodded to the lobster tank by the front door.

“Sure, buddy, you can go have a look.” Grace watched as he trotted over, glad for this little bit of independence he was showing. He’d clung to her pretty much constantly since she’d left Brad, but between the chess lessons and the freedom the island provided, that was hopefully becoming a thing of the past. One small way in which her son was healing. They both were.

“Does he not speak at all?” Becca asked quietly, and Grace couldn’t help but tense. “Sorry if it’s rude to ask,” she continued quickly. “I don’t know the protocols for asking about that kind of thing, and as you might have been able to tell, I don’t get out much anyway, so social niceties are not my strong point. But you know, tell me to mind my own business if you’d rather. We do that a lot around here.”

Grace glanced at Becca, her green eyes crinkled, her expression both so anxious and hopeful, and she smiled as she reached for a fry, dipped it in ketchup.Heaven.

“No, it’s not rude to ask,” she assured her. “He was always quiet, but he’s been completely mute for the last six months.” She swallowed her fry, and for a second it stuck in her throat. “Since I left my husband.”

“I’m sorry,” Becca murmured. “Was… was Jacob close to him?”

“Kind of?” Grace shrugged, because the truth was, she really didn’t know the answer to that question. “I mean… yes, in that he was his dad, and when he was around and interested, he could be incredibly charming, and of course Jacob loved that. But otherwise…? I don’t really know, and I don’t even know if Jacob misses him, because of course he hasn’t told me. And I don’t know why he stopped speaking, what about me leaving Brad was so traumatic that he responded that way. I wish I did.”

“I’m sorry,” Becca said again. “That’s why you came to Lighthouse Cove? Because… because of the divorce?”

Grace nodded. “I needed to get away. Brad—my ex-husband—he’d made things pretty… pretty unbearable, back in the city.” Which was a huge understatement, and one she’d leave for now. “And I’m not sure I ever liked living there that much, anyway.” She wrinkled her nose, letting out an uncertain laugh. “To be honest, I’m not sure what I like or even who I am. I married Brad when I was twenty-two, and he basically told me what to like and who to be for the next twelve years, and I went along with it without even questioning whether I should. So I don’t think I ever really got a chance to figure myself out,formyself, and I didn’t even realize that until I finally left him.” She let out a shaky laugh. “I am definitely a work in progress.”

“You know, I feel a little the same,” Becca confessed with a small, grimacing sort of smile. “I had Lewis so young, and there I was a mom as well as trying to keep my dad’s fishing business going, and I never even let myself think about doing—or being—something else. And I don’twantto do something else,” she added, a little fiercely, which made Grace wonder again whether Becca was trying to convince herself as much as anyone else. “But sometimes I think maybe I should have at leastthoughtabout it, you know?” she continued on a sigh. “Rather than let the decision be made for me, not evenbyanyone… just accepted. A done deal without any discussion.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Grace agreed. “You want the option, the opportunity, even if you don’t take it.” She rested her chin in her hand. “Maybe we should start a club—The Women Who Need to Find Themselves Society.” She gave a grimacing laugh. “Not very catchy, I admit.”

Becca laughed. “I like it.” She paused, her nose wrinkling in thought. “How about Alive and Almost Thriving Society?”

“We are so much better than almost,” Grace told her, leaning into the jokey vibe. “How about… The Soft Launch of Self Club?”

Becca guffawed. “The Who Even Is She? Society.”

Grace laughed back. “I like that,” she told her, feeling lighter inside than she had in months. Years. She paused in thought. “Former People Pleasers Anonymous.”

“Recovering Hot Mess Collective,” Becca fired back, and they both laughed, grinning at each other in conspiratorial camaraderie.

“This Is So Not a Midlife Crisis Club,” Grace stated solemnly, and Becca’s eyes sparkled.

“Hey,” she protested, “I’m too young for a midlife crisis, and I bet you are too.”

“I’m thirty-four,” Grace told her, and Becca nodded as if that confirmed it.

“Way too young for a midlife crisis. I’m thirty-six, so if anyone’s having a midlife crisis, it’s me, and I’m not having one. I refuse.”

“Hence the name of the club,” Grace reminded her, and Becca smiled, her expression turning serious.

“Thanks for coming out with me today,” she said, dropping the jokes. “I’m so glad we did this.”

“Me, too,” Grace replied, just as serious. She’d really enjoyed spending time with Becca, feeling normal, like things didn’t have to be hard. “Plus,” she added teasingly, “I now have the coolest t-shirt in the world.” She patted the bag on the seat next to her. “I can’t wait to wear it and feel totally claw-some.”

“I think you’re already pretty claw-some,” Becca answered with a grin, and Grace felt as if she were glowing inside. When was the last time someone had liked spending time with her, had told her she was great? She couldn’t even remember, but wow, it was nice when it happened.

“Right back at yah, chowdahhead,” she said in the most atrocious Maine accent anyone had probably ever heard and had them both bursting into peals of laughter that made Jacob turn from his intent study of the lobster tank.

After lunch, Becca, seeming slightly awkward about it, told them she had to do an errand on her own. Grace, always one for respecting privacy, assured her she and Jacob could walk around on their own while Becca hurried off, seeming like a woman on a mission. Grace wondered what it could be, and if Becca might tell her one day.

She pushed aside her curiosity—if Becca didn’t want to tell her, that was fine, they were just getting to know each other, after all—and hand in hand with her son, wandered down Water Street, past various stores and galleries, some of them closed, a few open. They ended up at Boatload of Books, a small, friendly-looking bookstore with crammed shelves and tottering stacks of books, as well as a few comfy-looking chairs and tables, and a full list of activities for adults and children alike.