Laura eyes him sharply, offering no response other than to reach in front of him to pick up his not-quite-empty martini glass and hand it off to a passing waiter.
“I’m an idiot.” Adam raises his hand and then lowers it. “Tova, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You won’t get old alone. Even with Erik gone.”
“It’s quite all right,” Tova says quietly. “It was a long time ago.”
“I remember it like it was yesterday.” Adam’s voice is clearer now.
Mary Ann claps a hand over her mouth, and Laura plants her hands on her hips, shooting a glare that could shatter stone. But Tova turns to Adam, suddenly aware of her heart throbbing under her blouse. “I always welcome what people remember.”
His drags a hand over his face. “I mean, nothing you don’t already know, I’m sure. I remember the last time I saw him. We grabbed nachos at the snack bar that afternoon, before he started work. We were planning to go out to my family’s cabin the next day. He was going to sneak some beers from your fridge, as usual.” He cringes. “Uh, sorry about that.”
Tova waves a hand. “No matter.”
“Anyway,” Adam goes on, “he wanted to impress that girl, whatever her name was. He was going to bring her to the cabin.”
Tova lets out a stony chuckle. Stealing beer from the fridge? That sounded like her son. But the rest, was it possible? She shakes her head. “I don’t remember Erik having a girlfriend at that time.”
“I don’t know what she was, technically, but they were a thing.” Adam frowns and furrows a brow. “Damn. What was her name?”
Laura lays a hand on Tova’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Tova? Dear?” Mary Ann echoes her daughter.
“I’m perfectly fine.” Tova’s voice sounds like it’s coming from inside a cave. She stands and thanks Laura for the luncheon while giving Mary Ann a brief hug, then hears herself bid goodbye to Adam Wright and Sandy Hewitt.
Click-clack, click-clack. The sound of her sandals on the restaurant’s hardwood floor seems to propel her away from the table. Outside, late-afternoon sun assaults her, and she shields her face with a hand as she beelines across the Elland Chophouse parking lot toward her car. Only once she’s sitting in the driver’s seat with the ignition turned on and the radio playing does she realize she’s been holding her breath. It comes out, hot and fast, the blowback fogging her glasses.
So Will had been right.
There was a girl.
The Pier’s Shadow
Avery’s house is small with yellow vinyl siding in a subdivision off the county highway. It’s a haul from town; no wonder Avery showers at the store after her morning paddle, even if the water is ice-cold, instead of driving home. Garden tools and yard-waste bags are all over the place on one side of her driveway, barely leaving room for Cameron to park his camper.
She appears in the front doorway clutching a coffee mug. A pair of running shorts sits low on her hips, a flash of light-brown skin peeking out between the waistband and her tank top. Damn. Suddenly, he’s very glad she suggested they meet here for their paddleboarding date rather than down at her shop. She had claimed it was because she doesn’t like to come into work on her days off, but maybe she has something more in mind?
Squinting into the sun, she says, “You made it!”
Cameron hops down from the cab and tucks the keys in his pocket. “Did you expect otherwise?”
She grins. “To be honest, I don’t normally date younger guys. I’ve been ghosted more than once.”
“Younger guys? How old do you think I am?”
“Twenty-four?”
“Try thirty.” Cameron bounds up the short set of front steps in one leap. “But I’ll forgive you. It’s hard to tell with my youthful glow and athleticism.”
Avery rolls her eyes. “Save your chest-puffing for after I get you on a paddleboard. We’ll talk about your athleticism then.”
“I’m sure I’ll be a natural. Naturally.”
“Uh-huh.” Avery smirks. She gestures at the open door. “Come in for a bit? I need to finish getting ready.”
“Sure. But what about you?”
Avery turns to him, puzzled. “What about me?”
“How old are you?” A note of anxiety creeps into Cameron’s voice.
“Turned thirty-two last month.” She laughs at his look of relief, then bends down to pick up a lone sock from the laminate floor. “Why, how old did you think I was?”