He stops abruptly. Sighs. Runs a hand through his hair.
“It was enough to build a hotel and still have more than I’ll ever need,” Mason says. “Mostly I do good things with the money. I donate to children’s heart foundations and dog rescues and Planned Parenthood, but occasionally I buy a giant fucking chandelier for fifty-five hundred bucks because I want it.”
I don’t know what to say. I know my feelings are coming from my own history of financial insecurity, which is not Mason’s problem.
“Is it going to fit in the truck?” I ask.
He pulls on his lower lip, then releases it. Very quietly, he says, “Fuck.”
“You pay,” I say, digging through my purse for the tape measure I started carrying after my first visit to Very Vintage Vivian. “I’ll measure.”
Out in the parking lot, I quickly take the dimensions of the truck bed, then go back inside to compare them to the size of the chandelier.
“It will barely fit and only sideways,” I tell Mason. “And we’ll need something to cushion the antlers that will bear most of the weight. Like … polar fleece blankets. We could buy a bunch to protect the chandelier on the way home, then wash them up and keep them on hand for our hotel guests to use outdoors on chilly nights.”
“You—” He shakes his head the tiniest bit, then leans in and kisses my forehead. “You’re brilliant.”
Swaddled in red polar fleece, the chandelier looks like an enormous badly wrapped Christmas present as we head west on Route 2. Mason’s eyes go to the rearview mirror so frequently that I make him pull over to switch with me. While I drive, he spends the rest of the trip obsessing over every bump in the road until we finally reach the ferry dock.
* * *
“What’s the story with Yōkai?” I ask, trying to distract him from the chandelier as we settle in for the ferry crossing.
“When I was a kid, my Japanese grandparents immigrated to Ohio to be closer to my mom. After my grandpa died a few years ago, my grandma decided to adopt a kitten for company.” Mason leans against the door. “But when Obaachan went to the shelter, she ended up adopting the massive mean-spirited cat no one else wanted.”
“Poor baby.”
He snorts a little. “Yōkai means ‘demon ghost.’ Which … well, you’ve met her. But she was never mean to my grandma, because they understood each other.”
“How did Yōkai end up with you?”
“Right around the time Jess and I were splitting up, Obaachan had to move into assisted living and couldn’t have a pet,” he says. “Mom decided I should take the cat so I wouldn’t be alone. You’ve seen how well that’s been working out.”
“She seems to love Maisie.”
“My theory is that Yōkai sensed my grandma wanted her—especially when no one else did—and she knows Maisie’s affection has no reservations.”
“Yōkai probably doesn’t trust you, emotionally speaking.”
Mason shrugs a shoulder and nods. “She came to me at a pretty low point in my life. I feed her and keep her litter box clean, but I haven’t really given her many reasons to like me.”
“Maybe you should.”
He considers this briefly, before handing me his phone. “Help me?”
We spend the remainder of the ferry ride with our heads nearly touching as Mason orders Yōkai a cat tree, an array of toys, dried fish treats, and a fluffy antianxiety bed. I mention that he should keep the delivery box because she might like that, too.
“And you could turn the sunroom into a habitat for her,” I suggest as the boat gently nudges the landing.
“That’s … my bedroom.”
“I know, and it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re sleeping on a futon in your own home, when there are three bedrooms upstairs.”
“I didn’t want it to be uncomfortable for you and Maisie.”
“So you’re uncomfortable instead? That’s better?”
“No, but—”
“Mason, I appreciate everything you’ve done for Maisie and me, but you have to be comfortable too,” I say. “I’d even be happy to give you back the master bedroom.”
“You don’t have to do that, but I’ll think about making a habitat room for Yōkai.”
I start the engine and drive off the ferry, following a car with an Indiana license plate. As I pull into the driveway at Avery’s house, Daniel comes out onto the front porch, followed by Avery, Maisie, and Leo.
“What the heck is that?” Daniel asks.
“Elk horn chandelier for the taproom,” Mason says. “Can’t stay and show you. We’re in the homestretch.”
“I’ve gotta see this.” Daniel opens the driver’s door for me. “I’ll take him the rest of the way. You, Avery, and the kids can follow in the golf cart.”
“Mama!” Maisie wiggles her way around Daniel’s knees, and I’m so happy to see her that I give up the driver’s seat and scoop her into my arms. She’s wearing glittery purple nail polish and there’s a bright pink streak in her hair that gives me pause, until I notice Leo has a green braid hanging from the back of his head like a Star Wars Padawan and Avery is sporting straight blue bangs below her dark curls.
“They’re clip-on,” Avery explains as Mason and Daniel slowly back out of the driveway. “We were playing hair salon and I remembered I had a few color extensions from back in the day.”
“Sounds like she had fun while I was gone.”
With the kids buckled into their car seats, Avery and I climb into the golf cart.
“She was a little tearful at bedtime, missing her mama,” she says with a smile. “But Daniel helped them build a fort with the couch cushions and they camped on the living room floor.”
“Thank you for keeping her.”
“How was the sale?”
“I found a couple of lamps,” I say. “But the big score was the chandelier, which was all Mason’s doing.”
“Really?”
“He was like a different person.”
Avery gives me a sideways glance. “In a good way?”
Everything that happened—especially the kiss that didn’t—is sitting in my mouth, wanting to spill out, but she was his friend first. And the circumstances around last night aren’t exclusively mine. I don’t know how to talk about it without stepping on Mason’s privacy.
“He was very enthusiastic about winning that auction.”
“I can’t wait to see the chandelier,” she says. “Did you do anything fun last night?”
“We had drinks and sushi at a place in downtown Sandusky.”
“Like a date?”
I laugh. “You are relentless.”
“Like a date?” she repeats, batting her eyelashes at me.
For a moment I tumble back in time to the hallway, wondering if I should have said something else. Done something else. I shake my head. “Not a date.”
We pull into the driveway of the hotel as Mason and Daniel are carrying the chandelier through the double doorway into the taproom. The kids run ahead of us.
“Oh! Hey! I meant to ask you if you could host book club this month,” Avery says. “I know it’s last minute, but Gail’s mother needs surgery, so she can’t host.”