The Art of Starting Over

: Chapter 3



From inside the home she had loved for as long as she could remember, Devy watched her daughter load the last of their bags into the SUV parked in the driveway and wondered how in the hell they were going to survive.

It was one thing to find out your husband was having an affair, but to find out the other woman was someone you considered your best friend since college added salt to the gaping wound. Ester knew everything about Devy and Chad’s marriage, from how he made Devorah feel in the bedroom, as a wife, and how she’d struggled to find her footing in their marriage. Ester knew Dev strove to be as perfect as possible for Chad, to give him everything he wanted and more, and how she never felt it was enough. Years of Ester telling Dev to dump Chad, to find a better man, now all seemed like a ploy from Ester to get Chad for herself.

Despite knowing better, Devy opened the video and went right to the comments section. This was a place where Dev’s feelings were validated. Numerous women had lambasted Ester for what she’d done, calling her a “home-wrecker” while also blaming Chad. But the comments that stood out the most were the ones asking Ester why she would post on social media, in a place where Devy and her daughter could find the video. It was simple, at least in Devorah’s mind—Ester didn’t know Dev followed her. It was the app-generated username that Ester likely didn’t pay attention to. They hadn’t posted any videos. To anyone looking, the account probably looked like spam.

Would Ester have posted the video if she’d known Devy followed her?

Yes, Devy thought. Ester wanted the attention, and she wanted Chad.

Now Ester had him, while Devy and Maren had a carful of their belongings and broken hearts.

To make things even worse, Devorah had tried to hide the truth from Maren. No child should have to deal with adult situations. Nor should any child have to see how imperfect their parents are. Dev thought she could keep everything under wraps by saying Maren’s father needed some space and that he was moving out for a bit. They certainly wouldn’t be the first couple to separate. But then Maren saw the video, thanks to a classmate whose mother had seen it. When the school called and said Maren needed to come home, Devorah knew her daughter had found out.

As soon as Dev saw Maren in the nurse’s office, they both broke. They held each other and cried in the hallway. On the way home, Maren said she didn’t want to go back to school. Devy agreed and suggested they go away for a bit. They needed to get out of Chicago and away from the stares.

That night, after they’d eaten a quiet dinner, Maren walked out the front door, with Devorah hot on her heels and pleading for her daughter to come back to the house. Maren walked to Ester’s place and pounded on the door until Chad answered. Dev stood there in the yard, waiting for her daughter to come back to her, while Chad fed their daughter the same bullshit he’d given Devy—he was in love, everyone else be damned. Chad didn’t seem to care that his daughter was losing her best friend in the mix. As long as he was happy, that was all that mattered.

“Rita was my best friend,” Maren had screamed, her fists clenched at her sides.

“And I’m going to be her dad now,” Chad had said as he tried to put a comforting hand on Maren’s shoulder. “Everyone wins.”

She’d jerked away. “You’re supposed to be my dad! Mine. Not hers.”

Chad could’ve handled the situation differently, but he thought only of himself in that moment with Maren. He ruined not only his marriage but also the friendship between Ester and Devorah, as well as between Maren and Rita. Although the girls were completely innocent, they were forever changed by his and Ester’s actions.

Devorah would survive. She’d pick up the pieces of her shattered heart and move on.

Maren would forever remember the time when she found out her father was having an affair with her best friend’s mother and had chosen the best friend over her.

“Selfish prick,” Devy muttered as she wiped angrily at her cheek. She tore her gaze away and looked around the house.

Devy surveyed the damage she had done to Chad’s clothes—she’d shredded them and left nothing more than rags as a result. Their dinnerware set, the one they’d chosen before they got married, sat in heaps of shards on the counter and floor. She didn’t bother to clean up. Chad had made a mess of their lives. Dev had done the same. In fact, aside from what she’d packed and planned to take with her, Chad didn’t have much of anything left.

The front door opened, and Maren called out for her mom.

“In the kitchen.”

“I guess I’m ready when you are.” Maren was dressed casually, in a pair of sweatpants and matching sweatshirt, for the long ride back to Oyster Bay. She had long, thick brown hair with natural blond highlights and expressive green eyes. Maren had sprouted early, growing taller than most of her classmates.

They were going home. Well, back to the only place they could go. Staying in Chicago was out of the question, at least until the video was yesterday’s news, and for people to forget the utter humiliation she had experienced. As it was, she couldn’t even face her neighbors and didn’t even want to look at the other parents on the PTA. At the end of summer, they’d return to Chicago with their heads held high, and Devy would be ready to tackle next year’s PTA schedule.

Only, they wouldn’t return to the house Devorah loved so much. It held far too many memories, all muddied by Chad admitting he and Ester had been together in the home, the foundation he’d built with Devorah.

So she was going back to the father she barely spoke to and to a brother who already hated Chad. As soon as they found out, every conversation would have a long line of “I told you so’s.”

“Are you sure you have everything you want to take?”

Maren nodded.

“Your father can mail you whatever.”

“I don’t plan to talk to him,” Maren said as they headed toward the front door. Devorah wanted to cheer, fist pump, and give her daughter a high five, but she wouldn’t. Chad needed to work out his relationship with his daughter, without any interference from Devy or anyone else. Fat chance it would happen anytime soon. When she told Maren they were leaving, all Maren could say was that her dad had chosen someone else to be his daughter. That knife to the heart twisted more than the cheating. Devorah never wanted to see her daughter in pain. Especially not at the hands of her dad.

Devy fought back tears as she drove out of the neighborhood she loved. Past the homes she’d visited for various parties, past people she’d called friends. She hadn’t told anyone they were leaving, other than Maren’s school, but Devy suspected people knew. Hell, everyone in the surrounding area knew. Within hours of the video posting, she’d had to shut her phone off. The calls and texts were too much, and she had nothing to say. She didn’t need to hear people tell her how sorry they were or ask if she was the one Ester had talked about in the video. Everyone knew. Ester had done a stand-up job not hiding anything and putting their entire messy situation on full blast for everyone to witness. Ester and Chad easily could’ve saved Devorah from embarrassment and told her outright. Life could’ve been a lot easier for everyone involved. But no, Ester wanted the drama.

Ester wanted the views.

“I will find a place here later,” she said to her daughter. “We’ll come back in the fall, in time for school to start.”

“Do you think people will have forgotten?”

No.

Devorah hated that she wasn’t able to protect her daughter from any of this. No child should have to bear witness to something of this magnitude. Maren should grow up thinking her father was perfect. But instead, at nine, Maren worried about people never forgetting what her father had done.

“We can only hope. If not, we can try for a different school.” They definitely needed a fresh start.

“Maybe.” Maren stared out the window. Devy reached for her daughter’s hand and held it tightly. She would do whatever it would take to make things right for her little girl again. Her brother, Colt, would step up. He’d be a father figure, and her dad . . . well, he’d remind Devy how he’d told her not to follow some wannabe to college. Which was exactly what she had done. While she loved her job as an estate curator, she wasn’t rolling in the dough, according to Chad. And her income definitely wasn’t enough to continue the lifestyle she’d grown accustomed to in Chicago.

As soon as she pulled onto Interstate 80, Devy turned on the playlist she’d put together for their fifteen-hour drive, turned the volume up, and started singing. When her favorite song came on, she danced in her seat and did everything she could to get her daughter to smile.

At the end of all this, Maren wouldn’t see what the affair had done to her mother. Devorah would mask everything until her child was tucked away at night. Then and only then would she allow her emotions to come through, allow herself to feel. She’d be brave for her daughter and for anyone else she ran into once she was back home. All she could hope for was that no one in Oyster Bay had seen the video—or, if they had, that they hadn’t realized it was about her. She didn’t need any more embarrassment in her life. Enough of that would be coming from those who had never left Oyster Bay, people who would be happy to see the “Pearl of the Ocean” four years running fall flat on her face.

They were only an hour into the drive when Maren started singing and dancing. Her smile was enough to keep Devy’s foot on the gas and moving forward.


It was after dinner the next day when they pulled into town. Antique streetlights and lamps kept the street lit, and the sound of the foghorn reminded Devorah how close they were to the water. Devorah pushed a button, sending her window down. She leaned her head out of the window and inhaled, almost gagging on the smell of brine. No one enjoyed the odor, but it meant home to her. They had Lake Michigan in Chicago, and while it was massive, she missed the ocean. She missed the constant ocean mist the air held from being this close to the water and the sound of fishing boats returning to harbor, along with the constant ting of the buoy bell wind chimes.

“How far does Grandpa live from the water?”

“Not far,” Devy said as she turned onto Main Street. “You can walk there in two minutes if you don’t get stopped by someone who knows you.”

“No one knows me here.”

Devy let out a small laugh. “Oh, sweetie, everyone knows who you are here. And by tomorrow morning, they’ll all know Tremaine Crowley’s only granddaughter is in town. Especially since the last time you were here, you were three.”

“Really?” Maren looked like she didn’t really believe her mom.

“Yep. Small-town living definitely has its drawbacks.” She pulled into the driveway and put the SUV into park. She stared at the yellow house and wide porch. The railings looked freshly painted to match the picket fence in the front. The house and subsequently the fence sat too close to the main road but had been built long before Oyster Bay ever became a town. Blue-and-white hydrangeas took up most of what little front yard they had, and she was surprised they looked well kept and weren’t growing over the fence.

To the left of her was a small road, leading not only to their backyard but to a few cottages out back. At one time, thanks to a social studies assignment, she’d learned that her house had been owned by Joe Updike, the founder of Oyster Bay. He’d built the cottages behind what was now her childhood home for his employees.

Devy sighed and shut her car off. She was ready to get out, stretch, and head to the beach.

“What’s the perk?” Maren asked when they met at the back of the car.

“This.” Devy pointed across the street, where if you looked through the somewhat empty parking lot, you could see the water and the masts of sailboats tied to the docks. Dev, her brother Colt, and all their friends had spent plenty of time on those docks back in the day. Doing things she’d rather not tell her impressionable nine-year-old daughter about.

“We can go there?”

“Yep. There’s a paved walking path over there.” She pointed in the general direction of where the pathway started, between two old buildings that had been there since the early 1700s. The one on the right of the path had always been a law office, passed down from one generation to the next. The building on the left used to be a bait-and-tackle shop, but from the looks of it now, it seemed to be some sort of gallery. “With a lot of spots where you can walk down to the water. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“What about school?”

Devorah opened the back and reached for her suitcase. “School can wait until Monday.”

“Awesome.”

It was the least Dev could do. She wanted to give Maren time to adjust and get to know Oyster Bay before she threw her to the wolves. She wasn’t wrong when she said there were drawbacks to living in a place like Oyster Bay. Sure, it was beautiful and had a lot to offer people, if a town this small was what people looked for. It was great for visiting, but you either fit in or you didn’t. There really wasn’t a middle ground. Maren had a lot going for her, though. She was outgoing, charismatic, smart, and athletic. Devy hoped that would be enough.

With what they could carry, they headed toward the concrete pathway, where the fence opened near the house, which would lead to the wide-planked steps and then to the front door, where, if memory served correctly, the screen door would be old yet sturdy and still squeak when opened and closed.

With her arms full, Devorah looked toward the house and saw her father standing on the porch. Tremaine Crowley, Crow for short, was the town sheriff, or, as he liked to tell everyone, he was the law around town. He was the epitome of what most people would think a small-town sheriff would look like. Big and burly, he kept his dark hair high and tight. Every kid in town was afraid of him, including his own.

“I heard you were coming,” he said gruffly as he descended the stairs. Crow wasn’t one for pleasantries or change. He liked his life to stay the same, day in and day out. Which was why Oyster Bay was the only town with a sheriff and deputies, while every other place had a chief and a police force.

“Hi, Daddy,” Devorah said. “I can’t imagine who you heard it from.”

“That man you . . .” Crow stopped when his eyes met his granddaughter’s. Maren was one of the reasons Devy had stayed away from Oyster Bay for so long—her daughter looked identical to her mother, who had passed away when Devy was ten and Colt was twelve. Crow never got over the death of his wife.

“Hi, Grandpa,” Maren said as she stepped around her mom. Maren wrapped her arms around Crow. The gesture seemed to take him by surprise. Devy cocked her eyebrow at him, in challenge, wanting to know how he was going to react. He slowly placed his hands on Maren’s back and patted her. Dev said nothing. She couldn’t remember the last time her father had hugged her.

The wooden screen door popped open, and a light-brown puppy trotted out.

“Grandpa, you have a puppy?” Maren went immediately to the fluff ball standing on the porch, with its tail wagging back and forth.

“She was the runt of the litter, and no one wanted her,” he said as he reached for the suitcases. “Your uncle brought her home.”

“What’s her name?” Maren dropped to her knees and cuddled the dog.

“Cordelia,” Crow said. “Your uncle says her name means ‘goddess of the sea’ or something like that. Hell, I mean heck. I don’t know.”

“I can help take care of her,” Maren said without taking her eyes off the puppy. “We’re going to be best friends.”

Devorah watched this unfold and found herself smiling. This puppy could turn out to be a good thing for Maren.

“Colt lives here?” Devorah asked as she followed her father up the stairs.noveldrama

“He does. Don’t worry, we have room. Come on, Cordelia,” he barked out as he entered the house. Much to Devy’s surprise, the puppy followed on command.

Nothing had changed. Not the house nor the man who ran it. The door slammed behind Devy. She jumped, lost in thought as she looked around the entryway of the home she’d grown up in and couldn’t wait to leave as soon as she graduated from high school.

While the bones of the house were old, dating back to prerevolutionary days, the interior had been redone sometime in the seventies or eighties and was in desperate need of another remodel. To the left was the large dining room, with built-in cabinets and buffet. The last Devy knew, those cabinets and drawers were filled with dishes and linens her mother, Marguerite, had acquired. Either passed down to her or something she’d bought. Devorah couldn’t imagine her father throwing anything out. The dining room table still looked the same, from what Devy could see. The tablecloth was lace, yellowed from age and lack of washing, with a vinyl protector underneath. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind the wooden tabletop was in pristine condition.

Separating the dining room from the eat-in kitchen was a robin’s-egg-blue swinging door. It was something you’d find in an old diner. Devy and her friends often used it for their grand entrances during their days of dress-up.

To the right, the outdated living room, with its floral wallpaper, brown wood trim, and well-used fireplace. The room was in desperate need of a paint job and probably a hammer. In front of the large picture window sat her father’s recliner. Crow sat there and watched over the town he’d sworn to protect thirty-plus years ago.

Straight ahead, a glass door, and behind it the hallway, her parents’ bedroom, one of the two bathrooms, one of the two entrances to the kitchen, and a door that led to the upstairs bedrooms and attic.

“Jesus, it’s like a time capsule in here. Don’t you get tired of looking at the same stuff, day after day?”

“No,” he said pointedly as he opened the door to the hallway. “Upstairs you go,” he said to Maren and Devy. They climbed the stairs after him and Cordelia. Maren followed her grandfather to the right, but Devy paused at another large picture window. That was one thing she loved about this home—the windows. Each room had massive windows, letting in as much natural light as possible.

She moved the sheer curtains to the side, coughing at the amount of dust that had accumulated. If she had to bet, she’d wager her father hadn’t washed the curtains since Dev had done it last time. The house would be cleaned, top to bottom, before she went back to Chicago, whether Crow liked it or not. It was the least she could do. She rested her head on the pane of glass and sighed, remembering that if she opened the window and leaned out, she could see the water from here. Otherwise, there was nothing but the rooftops of the other homes on Main Street and the old bank building at the end of the road.

Behind her was her old room. Devy walked toward the threshold and sighed. It was exactly as she’d left it. She expected to find a thick layer of dust, but the room was clean. Had her father cleaned it after Chad called him? Had Colt? Did her father have a girlfriend? The latter idea made her heart swirl in ways she didn’t expect. She wanted her dad to be happy, but imagining him with someone other than her mom was hard.

Devy walked through the Jack and Jill bathroom and found Maren chatting animatedly with her grandfather and Cordelia snuggled next to her. He seemed to be listening, which Dev appreciated.

At a break in the conversation, Devy asked, “Where does Colt sleep?”

“Converted the garage into an apartment.”

“Really? Isn’t it kind of small?”

Crow pointed to the window. Devy walked over and looked into the backyard. The wooden fence had been replaced with white vinyl, and the garage Dev remembered as falling down looked brand new. Her father could build a new garage but not update the interior of their house.

Because my mother never went into the garage.

“Looks nice. Where’s your car?” she asked without turning around.

The last Devy knew, her father still had his ’72 Chevelle, black with black leather bucket seats. She used to love riding around in it when she was little.

“Still there. Colt built his apartment above the garage.”

Devy turned around in time to watch her father leave the room without another word. She glanced at Maren, who stared at her. Dev shrugged.

“Grandpa’s complicated.”

“He’d probably say the same about you.”

Maren’s words gave her pause. History was about to repeat itself if Devy wasn’t careful. The last thing she wanted was for Maren to have a strained relationship with Chad, even though he didn’t deserve any kindness from her. Either of them, for that matter.


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