52
If Celeste and Jack had to name a favorite spot, the salt marshes at Herring Cove would be top of the list. Even at the peak of summer, they could usually find a moment of solitude amongst the great blue herons, osprey, and regal egrets. They dressed in waders and carried binoculars. Jack wore a whistle around his neck in case of coyotes.
Celeste pulled her straw hat lower over her face. The sun beat down as they walked the perimeter of a mud patch, bubbles popping up through small holes—a sure sign that quahogs were underfoot. She reached for Jack’s hand.
“It never gets old,” she said, flush with love for the staggering natural beauty of her adopted town. And for her partner.
Jack stopped walking, his dark eyes sharp and focused on her.
“It certainly doesn’t,” he said, pulling her close. She smelled the faint scent of the tobacco he was supposed to quit. That, and the briny musk of his sweat. “You’re as beautiful as the summer we met. More beautiful. I love these.” He traced her crow’s feet with his finger.
“Oh, Jack,” she said, kissing him. His hardscrabble New England exterior was no match for his romantic heart. A dragonfly landed on his shoulder, then alighted. “I love you.”
“I know you do,” he said. “Say, any thoughts yet about the wedding venue?”
“Well,” she said, swallowing hard. “I started talking to Lidia about it but then the blackout happened and we got distracted.” Okay, not exactly the truth. The blackout did happen right when they were set to talk, but she took it as a bad sign, and immediately called Maud for a reading.
Maud gave her unusual instructions.
“Go to the water tonight,” she said. “Collect thirteen stones of similar shape and size. Keep them by your bedside overnight and bring them with you when you come for your reading.”
Celeste did as she was told, carrying the bundle of stones to her lunchtime appointment. They sat across from each other at a small table and Maud marked each stone with a different symbol; one represented the sun, another the moon, another Mercury, and so on. Then she placed all the stones in a cloth, drawing it closed into a pouch. She then closed her eyes and asked Celeste to do the same.
“I want you to meditate on what concerns you, what questions you bring with you today,” Maud said. After a few minutes, she told Celeste to keep her eyes closed, but that she was going to place her hand on the stones and she should retrieve three. “Now set them on the table.”
The stones she picked were Venus, Mars, and the Universe.
Maud contemplated them, then looked Celeste in the eyes with her steady gaze. “Venus is connected to love and happiness. Mars suggests the need for courage and a potential battle ahead. The Universe suggests a reshuffling of your place in the grand scheme of things. So I would say that you’re right to be on guard. Proceed with caution. Change is ahead.”
“But what does that really mean? Should I go ahead with the wedding?”
Maud said she couldn’t tell her what to do, she could only give her the information at her disposal. But the information wasn’t enough; Celeste felt the universe was giving muddled signals just when she needed it to guide her the most.
“I was thinking we could have the wedding in the garden,” Jack said.
“In our backyard?”
“No—not our garden: Suzanne’s Garden.”
Suzanne’s Garden was a floral wonderland open to visitors for the past decade. It began as a private garden created by a longtime Provincetown resident named Suzanne, who hired a landscaper to plant a small orchard, and then a few years later began collaborating with a new next-door neighbor to create a joint flower garden. The pair even traveled to Monet’s garden near Paris for inspiration. The result was both whimsical and thoughtful: pear trees, hazelnut bushes, roses, irises with shell pathways throughout, and a central wisteria arbor.
As she thought about it now, the arbor made it an obvious choice for a wedding, although Celeste had gone there to sit and read so many times and it had never crossed her mind. It was a perfect place for quiet contemplation, especially in the middle of the summer when so much of the town was overrun with visitors and every outdoor space seemed to be teeming with tourists. Most people didn’t know about the garden, and even during the busiest theme week she could usually find an hour or two of solitude in the arbor.
Jack knew that she loved the place. It was a thoughtful idea.
“Um, sure,” she said.
“We can go look at it tomorrow,” he said, kissing her neck, then her collarbone, then gently tugged her down onto the muddy ground.
“Someone could walk by,” she said, her body already responding to him.
“After all these years, you still pretend you’re not every bit as adventurous as I am.”
For the moment, her fears about the future were forgotten.
Race Point Beach was almost as crowded at eight at night as it was in the middle of the afternoon. Elodie and Tito had staked out their prime spot an hour earlier, setting down their folding beach chairs and the picnic basket they’d assembled together in Lidia’s kitchen. Elodie, who had spent her life dining in the finest Manhattan restaurants—Daniel, Union Square Café, Danube, Le Bernadin—had perhaps never enjoyed a meal so much as the chicken salad sandwiches and potato chips she ate that evening.
The sky was already a kaleidoscope of color: blues, purples, pinks, and oranges. It made her feel whimsical and girlish. It reminded her of the multi-flavored swirled sorbet her mother used to serve when she was a child.
Elodie swallowed hard. She looked into his deep dark eyes—so brown they were nearly black—and felt unmoored in a way that was unsettling and thrilling. A day ago, she would have told someone—if she had anyone to confide in—that her feelings for Tito reminded her of the way she’d felt about the one man she’d ever loved: giddy, unfocused, thrilled but also insecure. No one since Liam Maybrook had inspired such intensity. And yet, this was different. Being around Tito also made her feel enveloped in calm.
She didn’t know what to do with these feelings. When she was younger, attraction led to sex and sex led to relationships and relationships were supposed to lead to marriage someday. But that hadn’t worked out for her.
Besides, she wasn’t sure how Tito felt. They were dog-walking buddies. Sure, a picnic dinner at Race Point at sunset had romantic overtones. Yes, he’d held her hand at the fireworks on the Fourth. But she still felt uncertain.
The sun inched lower on the horizon. People stood, phones held high, snapping photos. Elodie and Tito walked to the edge of the ocean. They stood, shoulders touching, watching the light change with every passing second. When the sun dipped out of view, everyone broke into applause.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Tito said.
“Oh, even that would be overpriced, I’m afraid,” she said.
“Are you worried about finding housing?”
She looked at him in surprise. Lidia must have mentioned her inquiry and the fact that she was losing her room at the house.
“No,” she said quickly. “I’ll find something.”
“Now I’m kicking myself for renting out my house all summer,” he said. “You could have stayed with me.” Stay with him? Definitely romantic.
She smiled. “I would never impose. But thank you.”
“It would be fun.”
Fun? Friendship.
“I’m going to speak to the Realtor tomorrow,” she said.
“Why don’t you talk to your sister? She has space above the store. Unless there’s someone else staying there aside from your niece.”
“Oh—no. My sister and I don’t have that kind of relationship. We’re not like your family.”
“Well, that’s a darn shame,” he said. “Maybe if you stayed there you could work on that.”
“I’m doing just fine. There’s nothing that needs working on,” she said, a little defensive. He must have sensed her irritation, because he reached out for her hand. She went in to shake it—like a friend. No hard feelings. But then he held it—like more than a friend.
“Elodie,” he said.
“Yes?”
“I only mention it because I want you to be happy. And part of that is selfish.”
“Selfish? How so?”
“I figure the happier you are, the longer you’ll stick around.”
And then he leaned over and kissed her.
Romantically.