Sunsets on Catfish Bar Read online

  PRAISE FOR MARY STRAND

  For Sunsets on Catfish Bar:

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  "Emotionally complex and deeply involving, this is the story of a woman dealing with impossible challenges—and finding grace and humanity in the journey." —SUSAN WIGGS, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author

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  For Pride, Prejudice, and Push-Up Bras:

  * * *

  Listed among “the best indie Pride and Prejudice books the IP staff has seen...” —Independent Publisher

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  “This Minnesota-set rom-com hits the ground running and never draws breath until its satisfyingly foregone conclusion.” —Jane Austen’s Regency World magazine

  SUNSETS ON CATFISH BAR

  A PENDULUM NOVEL

  MARY STRAND

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Triple Berry Press P.O. Box 24733 Minneapolis, Minnesota 55424

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  Copyright © 2022 Mary Strand

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  Cover Credits

  Cover design: LB Hayden

  Lake and forest @ Pietus

  Feet hanging out of convertible @ pikselstock

  Back view of a young man driving his convertible yellow car. Open roof @ arastorguev

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  Logo Credit: LB Hayden

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without the author’s express written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Electronic ISBN: 978-1-944949-10-5

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-944949-11-2

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  Printed in the United States of America

  For Miriam Seltzer,

  without whom the St. Croix has never been the same.

  With all my thanks to:

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  Don and Arvonne Fraser, who owned and loved our St. Croix River house before Tom and I inherited it. I’m still grateful despite the fact that Arvonne painted everything red, and I loathe red, and HELLO, my life would’ve been much easier if you’d painted everything blue! Ha ha!

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  Bonnie Skelton, who still hangs out with us at the St. Croix house, and who waterskied in her eighties and went tubing with me in her nineties. Bonnie first showed me the beautiful hikes up the hill at the St. Croix River that I describe in this novel, and she used to always leave all of us in her dust.

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  My mom, Betty Strand, who taught me more than I ever wanted to know about brain cancer.

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  So many good friends who provided critiques, edits, beta reads, or brainstorming help along the way (some of it a million years ago), including Connie Brockway, Susan Kay Law, Carol Prescott, Jennifer Crusie, our Maui writers group, Just Cherry Writers, Romex, Ann Barry Burns, and Tom Fraser.

  * * *

  Michael Bodine, who knows everything and occasionally tells me some of it.

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  Mariam AlAdsani, my daughter Kate’s friend at Boston University, who came up with the “Pendulum” name after many of my Facebook friends took a shot at it. (Thank you all!)

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  Keely Thrall, who (along with the Washington Capitals) saved my writer butt just as this book was about to go out into the world.

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  Several wise published writers (and adorable friends) who gave me much-needed advice when it was time to bring this book into the world, including Judith Arnold, Brenda Hiatt, Lori Matthews, Cathy Maxwell, and Melissa McClone.

  * * *

  Laura Hayden and Pam McCutcheon, collectively also known as Parker Hayden Media, LLC, who patiently answer some of the most anal-compulsive and/or wildly ignorant questions in the world on a routine basis, all of them from me.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  A Note from Mary

  About the Author

  Sneak Peek at the Next Book

  Also by Mary Strand

  CHAPTER 1

  Swans and fairies twirled and leaped across the stage in frenetic glee, spinning and turning and—

  Damn. Liz Tanner cringed when Jenna nailed another dancer, her third so far, and the other little girl skidded on her butt, landing against a fake tree. Miss Sam came running out, a horrified smile frozen on her face, and scooped up the sobbing girl. Jenna, utterly oblivious, continued to twirl. The other five-year-olds now kept their distance, leaving Jenna to dance an impromptu solo.

  The spring recital program called it Swan Lake, but it looked more like the dance of a lethal sugarplum fairy.

  Biting back an embarrassed grin, Liz resisted the urge to slink down in her seat. Jenna had improved since her first dance recital last December, when she’d frozen in place, sucking her index finger for the entire routine. But the other parents might not agree.

  Paul wasn’t here to agree or not. Liz checked her watch, then glanced back at the doors for at least the fortieth time this afternoon. The woman behind her nodded at the empty seat next to Liz and smiled sympathetically.

  A flush crept up her cheeks, but Liz didn’t need sympathy. She needed Paul. No, Jenna needed Paul. He’d promised a dozen times that he wouldn’t miss the recital, or forget it, or come up with yet another excuse. Mr. Hotshot Junior Partner at Brennan & Locke, the third-largest law firm in Washington, D.C., had a lot of them.

  And he’d blown it. Again.

  As she turned back to watch the finale, a sudden pain stabbed her. She pressed a hand against her stomach, feeling the ugly raised scar from the last surgery. She still had one ovary, as if it mattered. As if a baby could save her marriage.

  Wild applause, whistles, and bright lights brought her focus back to the stage just in time to see the class bow and file off the stage—except for Jenna, who tumbled forward into the front row, landing in Liz’s lap and slamming against her stomach.

  Oof. Liz sucked in a breath at the shooting pain. Another breath, this time slow and calm. A tiny “Mom?” from Jenna, who jiggled in Liz’s arms as her short white-blond hair sprang out at odd angles. “Where’s Daddy?”

  “Um, still at work?” Biting her lip, Liz tilted Jenna’s trembling chin upward and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Hey, you were fantastic, sweetie.” The woman behind Liz snorted. Liz whispered in Jenna’s ear. “The best one out there.”

  “I hit Virginia.” And two others, but who was counting? Jenna looked past Liz, scanning the audience. “Maybe Daddy’s in the back. He said he’d come, ’cause it’s Sunday and I was dancing and he—he promised.”

  A tear formed at the corner of Jenna’s eye, and Liz touched her thumb to it before it could trickle down her cheek.

  “I guess he got busy.”

  How could she explain Paul to a five-year-old when, at thirty-seven and after eleven years of marriage,
Liz didn’t understand him? Her brain churned, trying to offer excuses. Finding none, she shook her head and hugged Jenna.

  After a quick trip backstage to pick up Jenna’s dance bag and whisper an apology to Jenna’s teacher, they headed out into the bright sunshine of the May afternoon, hand in hand, walking up Connecticut Avenue toward the zoo. A little girl who’d survived her recital and whose father was missing in action deserved a reward.

  She reached into her purse for her cell phone, then shrugged and withdrew her hand. If she called Paul, she’d only yell and upset Jenna, and what was the point? He wouldn’t change.

  As she walked with Jenna, Liz pondered the riddle of Paul—and how to solve the riddle without ruining everyone’s life. Jenna squeezed her hand, an instant reminder of the one precious thing she’d gained from marrying Paul.

  But Jenna couldn’t fix what ailed her parents’ marriage.

  A bus honked its horn, jarring Liz as a blast of exhaust hit her. She glanced at a street sign and realized they were almost at the zoo. The walk hadn’t done much for her abdominal region, but resting for the last four weeks hadn’t, either. Luckily, deals were light at her investment-banking house, and Peabody McBain didn’t miss her. Much.

  Bottom line, she needed to do something about Paul. He barely knew his daughter and no longer knew Liz at all. Had he ever? What had happened to the thoughtful man she’d married? The guy who’d left work early so many times just to surprise her with a picnic in Rock Creek Park or tickets to a concert at Wolf Trap? Had he been faking it?

  She didn’t have a clue. But today’s recital had been the last straw—and the last time she’d let Paul disappoint Jenna.

  With new determination, she hopped up onto a curb, blinking at the sudden jolt. Gripping Jenna’s hand as they waded into the crowd near the zoo entrance, she tried to ignore the pain. She was going to take action—finally—and she’d make it work. For Jenna’s sake and for hers.

  Her cell phone rang. Paul, undoubtedly, begging forgiveness for sins he’d never admit to committing. She let it ring again, then pulled it out of her purse and glanced at the screen. Her eyebrows rose, even though she shouldn’t be surprised.

  “Diana?”

  A pause. “Is that how they greet people in the big city these days? How’s my little dancer?”

  Liz caught herself smiling. Her stepmom had probably calculated the precise moment the recital would end.

  Liz rubbed Jenna’s shoulder and mouthed the word “Gram” in response to the question in her daughter’s eyes. “Hi, Diana. You missed quite a performance. I’ll let Jenna tell you all about it.” Jenna tugged on her sleeve, begging to talk, and Liz nodded as she held up a hand. “But last time I checked, Minneapolis was a big city, too.”

  “With drafty old houses.”

  Liz pictured the elegant mansion in Wayzata, the wealthy suburb where Liz’s dad and Diana had moved a few years after Liz left for college. “What are you up to these days? You’ve retired now, right?”

  “In theory.” Diana sighed, loudly, which only drew another smile. “But that’s a subject for another day.”

  “Oh? And what’s today’s subject?”

  Another slight pause. “It’s . . . your father, dear.”

  Monday morning, after a restless night in which Paul slept on the living-room sofa and left the house before dawn, Liz promised Jenna lunch downtown—a special treat in honor of her first dance recital at which she’d actually danced—and a trip to her daddy’s office.

  Why Jenna wanted to see Paul, Liz couldn’t imagine. Maybe she just wanted to remember what he looked like.

  In Liz’s current mood—overcast with a chance of lightning—she debated the wisdom of visiting Paul, especially with Jenna in tow. After she filled him in on the latest news, not to mention her big decision, she was pretty sure Paul would agree.

  Leaving the kid-friendly eatery nestled amid a cluster of banks and high-powered restaurants, she squinted at the blinding sun, clutched Jenna’s hand, and hurried past a little boy and his earbud-wearing mom—or nanny, more likely.

  Fifty yards later, she rounded the corner onto K Street and reached the heavy glass door to Paul’s building. Tugging it open, she hustled an already-tired Jenna inside. As Liz blinked against the cool air and dim lighting, Jenna pointed to the far corner of the marble lobby, where a teenage girl scooped out ice cream from a makeshift stand. Jenna’s eyes, wide as saucers, went from exhaustion to delight in the space of a heartbeat.

  “Ice cream! Can I?” Tugging free of Liz’s light grasp, Jenna didn’t wait for a reply. With one stride for every three churned out by Jenna’s little legs, Liz caught her a moment before she pressed her face inside a large tub of ice cream.

  “Just one scoop, Jenna.” Liz eyed her daughter’s pink-and-orange tank top and matching shorts, still remarkably intact after their pizza lunch. “Strawberry?”

  After ten minutes, two spills, and five rounds of Jenna’s giggle fits, she pushed the elevator button for Paul’s floor. Two tight-lipped young lawyers joined them, nodding once before checking their phones.

  The elevator lurched at the sixth floor. Catching Jenna’s sticky hand, Liz hoped Paul could squeeze in a quick break. She couldn’t have this conversation on the phone or in the middle of the night. That didn’t leave many options.

  She pushed open the solid wood doors to his firm.

  “Paul Worthington, please.” Smiling at the receptionist, Liz tapped her nails on the marble-topped counter while she waited for Margo to buzz Paul.

  She glanced around the reception area, realizing she hadn’t set foot in Paul’s office since Christmas, when she and Jenna had forcibly kidnapped him for an hour of shopping.

  Buzz. “Mr. Worthington, your wife and daughter are here to see you.” Pause. “Send them back? Yes, sir.”

  Margo held up a hand as Liz started down the hall to Paul’s office. “Ms. Tanner, his office is—”

  “Thanks, but I remember the way.”

  Margo coughed, loudly, causing Liz’s head to swivel. “He moved to a new office.” She pointed left. Liz had headed right. “Down that hall. I can have someone show you.”

  “I’ll find it, thanks.” Shaking her head, Liz wondered what else Paul hadn’t mentioned. Thank God he hadn’t switched firms. He’d tell her a year later, or maybe send a memo.

  Four doors down the left-hand hallway, she found him, hunched over a stack of papers at eye level, swilling a cup of coffee as if it held the key to eternal life.

  When he didn’t look up, she sighed. Jenna skipped around Paul’s desk to his chair. She squeezed his arm and a handful of his shirt, getting an absentminded pat on the head in return.

  “Jenna’s here to see you, Paul.” She watched his eyelids flicker as he flipped a coffee-stained page and still didn’t look up. Exasperated, she turned to leave.

  “Liz.” Gazing through her, he forced a smile before offering Jenna a wider, more genuine one. “Hey, peanut.” He wouldn’t smile when he noticed that Jenna’s sticky pink fingers had left their mark on his white shirt. “What brings you guys here?”

  Liz gritted her teeth, having expected a different reaction from a man who’d just spent a night on the sofa. She nodded at Jenna, who was now prancing around Paul’s office. “She didn’t see you all weekend.”

  He flinched. “She wasn’t around this weekend.”

  “Oh?” She raised one eyebrow. Had he always been so defensive? “You’re right. She had a dance recital yesterday.”

  No reaction. Unbelievable.

  His gaze skittered from her to Jenna to the stack of paper. The stack won. She hadn’t made him salivate like that since they were dating.

  “I can see you’re busy, so I’ll be quick. Carrie gave notice today. She’s done as of Friday.”

  “Carrie? Friday?” Frowning, he pushed his wire-rim glasses higher on his nose.

  “Our nanny.” She hoped he knew that, but she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. “Friday. Just in tim
e for Memorial Day weekend.”

  Paul straightened in his chair. “Our contract with her requires thirty days’ notice.”

  “Tell it to a judge. In the meantime, we have a problem.” She dropped into the ugly burgundy-plaid chair across from him.

  “Won’t you—”

  She waved away his question, which she knew from experience required her to “fix” the nanny problem. She’d hoped that cutting back her work hours would give her time to heal from the surgery. Time to think. She hadn’t anticipated being the only parent on duty until they somehow found a new nanny.

  “Diana called me yesterday.” She took a deep breath. “Dad isn’t doing well.”

  Paul’s eyes glazed over the way they did whenever she mentioned something that didn’t directly affect him.

  Jenna plopped herself down on the carpeting with a few sheets of hopefully blank paper she’d grabbed from Paul’s desk and a crayon she’d found in Liz’s purse.

  “He has brain cancer.”

  Paul stared at her, silent. She’d stunned the mighty deal lawyer with two words: brain cancer. Come to think of it, Diana had done the same thing to her when they’d talked, and most of Diana’s remaining words had blurred together.