Elise hadn’t wanted to go to the party. She and Fern didn’t have anyone to watch the baby, so they would have to take her along, which would inevitably bring up more questions. But shutting themselves in the house all summer was not an option.
“I don’t know why you’re suddenly concerned about what people think,” Fern said. “You were the one who told me not to worry.”
Elise had yet to tell her about the visit from Brian Correia. She also hadn’t told her about Bianca spying on Shell Haven.
“Let’s just go out and relax with our friends tonight,” Fern said. “We need it.”
By the time Elise and Fern had closed the tea shop, changed their clothes, and fed Mira, it was late; they didn’t get to Rachel and Luke’s until the tail end of dinner.
All day, Elise had told herself to forget about the encounter with Bianca. No doubt the woman had been exaggerating about Fern discussing selling the house. And she did forget about it—until she caught Bianca’s eye across the table and heard her words afresh: That woman said she was very interested. And Fern said it was an interesting idea.
Elise, who’d been chatting amiably with Ruth Cooperman, could not believe the woman was after her house—not when she’d been so helpful and understanding about the baby. No, Elise would not allow herself to be upset. Not on a beautiful night like this. She poured herself another glass of wine, a crisp white from Argentina. They were going down so easily.
“More rice?” Fern asked, passing her the casserole. The baked-seafood dish was one of her favorites, a Portuguese recipe she’d first tasted at the Barroses’ house their first summer.
Elise smiled at her. “Thanks. I should stop, but it’s so good.”
“It’s a party! We can show restraint tomorrow.”
Yes, it was a party. And things with Fern were good—not perfect, but good enough. The shop was almost as busy today as it had been over the weekend; it was a beautiful night under the stars; and she had a baby on her lap. Deep breaths, she told herself.
When the dinner plates were cleared, in the lull before dessert, it was musical chairs as the guests all shifted around to catch up with whomever they’d missed chatting with during the first two courses. Jaci arrived even later than Fern and Elise, separate from the rest of her family, and immediately offered to hold Mira. Elise handed her over, although she felt no need for relief. Despite the intense work of keeping an infant content, she had a sense of loss every time Mira left her arms.
“I’m so sorry about Marco,” Jaci said, looking down at Mira. “I’m trying to change his mind, but my parents are on his side.”
“Don’t make trouble in your family over a summer job,” Fern said. “If you want to come over and hang out in your free time, our door is always open. But you need to support your family’s business.”
“I’m in school getting a degree so I won’t need to go into the business,” she said. “I’m not planning to spend the rest of my life here. They have to accept that sooner or later.”
Mira started fussing, and Jaci stood up. “I can take her for a walk in her stroller.”
“Oh, I’ll do it. Enjoy yourself—it’s a party,” Elise said.
Jaci gave her a wry look. “This isn’t exactly my idea of a good time. I just spent all day with Marco. I don’t need to hang out with him and my parents all night. I’m happy to take a walk.”
Fern told her the stroller was parked on the back patio. Elise resisted the urge to call out, Don’t go too far! She didn’t want Jaci taking Mira at all but she knew Fern would be happy to have some adult time.
“I didn’t even get a chance to say hello to you ladies,” Clifford Henry said, swooping in to fill the seat Jaci had vacated. Elise couldn’t focus; she was watching Jaci across the lawn with the baby.
“Relax,” Fern said, putting her hand on top of hers.
“So who’s the new addition?” Clifford said, following Elise’s gaze.
“We’re trying to adopt,” Elise said.
“Fabulous! How did you—”
“Speaking of additions, we just saw Santiago’s work on this house for the first time tonight,” Fern said quickly.
“Santiago’s a genius,” Clifford said with a wave. “And so are you two. I’m in love with your divine store. In love.”
“Well, thanks, Clifford. We’re pretty happy with it ourselves,” Fern said, winking at Elise.
“Are you going to hire part-time summer help or just manage with the two of you?”
“We’re trying to figure that out,” Elise said. “Why? Do you know of someone who’s looking for part-time work?”
“No,” he said, leaning closer. “But I do know of someone who is looking to buy your house.”
Elise’s stomach dropped, but a quick glance at Fern reassured her. She was already rolling her eyes. “Shell Haven is not for sale, Clifford,” Elise said.
“I know it’s not for sale at the moment. But when it is, I hope you’ll come to me first. Ruth Cooperman told me she spoke with you, Fern. That woman is signaling that she is willing to spend. It’s a seller’s market, as you know, so just say the word and I will work my magic.”
“You’re going to have to work your magic elsewhere,” Fern said.
“You two are no fun!” Clifford said.
“I’m going to see if Rachel needs help with dessert,” Elise said, standing up, hoping to end the conversation.
“Good idea. I’ll join you,” Fern said.
As they cut across the lawn to the house, Elise said, “That was irritating.”
“Oh, you know Clifford.”
“It’s like, the second you rent out your house, it’s suddenly up for grabs. I told you this was opening a can of worms.”
Fern stopped walking and took her hand. “Hey, we’re on the same side. No one is selling the house.”
Elise nodded and smiled. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’m just a little edgy.”
“Well, there’s a lot going on,” Fern said. “But we’ll figure it out.”
Inside, they found Rachel at the kitchen island, its surface covered with enough dessert for twice as many people as there were at the party: cream puffs, butter cookies, the mixed-berry pie she and Fern had brought from Connie’s Bakery, lemon squares, two other pies, and some sort of pudding.
“Oh, hey, you two. Before I forget, I baked extra of these for you to take home.” Rachel reached for a cookie tin on the counter. “They’re called lavadores, and they traditionally go with tea.”
“Rachel, you shouldn’t have,” Elise said. “Really, you have no idea how much I—we—appreciate your help with Mira. I should be baking for you.”
The French doors opened and closed behind them. Marco carried in some empty plates.
“Are you guys heading out?” he said, setting the plates down in the sink.
“No,” Fern said. “Just getting an early peek at dessert. By the way, again, we’re sorry about letting Jaci spend time at the tea shop and babysitting when you needed her. We didn’t realize it was such an issue, though we probably should have guessed.”
Marco shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I don’t know what’s with her this summer. She’s acting like it’s a punishment to be here.”
“Don’t be too hard on her,” Elise said. “She’s still just a kid.”
“I appreciate that. Actually, Jaci aside, I wanted to speak to you both. Do you have time to talk tomorrow afternoon?”
Fern and Elise glanced at each other. Elise felt a sudden unease. Was this about Mira? With that simple question, she realized how precarious her happiness actually was. They had a secret—a big secret. And with that secret, a lot of hurdles in front of them.
“Sure,” Fern said. “Come by the shop anytime.”
“Can you meet me at the dock? I want to show you something I’ve been working on. I have a business proposition for you two.”
In her relief, Elise said loudly, “Oh, that’s great!” Fern looked at her like, Are you okay?
He smiled. “All right, then—to be continued tomorrow. Ready to rejoin the festivities?”
They followed him back outside. Fern reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. Elise told herself to relax. They would figure things out together the way they always had. There was no point worrying about what-ifs when this night was perfect.
And yet, as she rejoined the party and took her seat just as Rachel emerged from the kitchen with the first tray of dessert, she couldn’t deny the fact that no matter how much she wanted to believe she was on solid ground, she knew it could shift at any moment.
In the flickering candlelight of the backyard table, Ruth hid her disappointment when Olivia abruptly stood up and left with terse goodbyes.
Ruth had been midconversation with Lidia and Manny Barros, one of those couples who somehow managed to make it all work. They’d been married for thirty-five years and had two great kids and what seemed to Ruth a remarkably retro-style division of labor: Lidia was and had always been a homemaker; her husband managed the boatyard.
“Sometimes I help with the bookkeeping,” Lidia said. “But, really, my focus has been the children.”
“And the kitchen,” Manny added, giving her an affectionate pat. From another man, this might have sounded sexist or patronizing. But Ruth could see from the look in his eyes it had been delivered with adoration. He looked across the table at his children, Marco and Jaci, with the same devotion. Ruth experienced, deeply, the fractured nature of her life in a way she hadn’t in a very long time.
“Speaking of the kitchen, I’m going to help Rachel with the dishes,” Lidia said.
“I’ll join you,” Ruth said. Movement. Busyness. Motion was the antidote to emotion.
They collected empty plates on their way to the kitchen, where Rachel was already piling a bunch in the sink.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Rachel said, reaching out to relieve them of the dishes. “I’m just leaving these for now.”
“Please, Rachel. Go outside and sit. You’ve been running around all night. Ruth and I need to stretch our legs,” Lidia said, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Ruth.
“It’s true. And I need to start working off that wine.”
Rachel reluctantly left them, giving one last look over her shoulder and an “Are you sure?” before they shooed her outside.
Lidia opened the dishwasher and pulled the top and bottom racks forward. “I’ll rinse, you stack them in the dishwasher,” she said, and Ruth immediately felt bad about taking the cushier part of dishwashing duty.
“You have a beautiful family,” Ruth said, fitting a serving platter along the side of the dishwasher’s bottom rack.
“Oh, thank you,” Lidia said, then sighed. “Though I have to admit, I was really looking forward to my daughter coming home for the summer, and so far, it hasn’t gone well. She doesn’t want to spend time with us—at least, not the way she used to. She didn’t even come home for Christmas!”
Ruth searched for some words of wisdom, something about the age or the transition from living at home to living away but not fully being an adult. And she was sure those things were true, but she hadn’t experienced them herself. By the time Olivia was a freshman in college, they hadn’t lived together for years. To say anything in commiseration felt disingenuous. So she said nothing. This was perhaps a mistake, because in the silence, Lidia added, “I know I sound needy.”
“No,” Ruth said quickly. “Not at all. In fact, I’m having issues with my daughter as well, though it’s an entirely different situation. I understand your feeling of disappointment.”
Lidia looked at her gratefully. “I appreciate that. My husband thinks I’m taking it too personally. He’s annoyed with Jaci for dragging her heels when it comes to doing the job we need her to do, but he’s not emotional about it. Frankly, I wish I could be more like him.” She passed Ruth some silverware, then asked, “Are you married?”
Ruth shook her head. “Divorced. Long divorced.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The expression on her face was one of deep sympathy, as if Ruth had been dealt a terrible blow. What would Lidia think if Ruth said, I initiated it. I’m the one who broke up my family? She was sure the look of sympathy would change to something else entirely.
“Yes, well, these things happen,” Ruth said. “My one regret is that Olivia took it very hard, and our relationship hasn’t been the same since.”
“Well, it’s a good sign that she made the trip out to visit you, right?”
Ruth simply nodded. Talking to this earnest and sweet woman was making her feel like a train wreck. And yet, had the impulse to spend time with her daughter been wrong? She refused to see her attempt to mend their relationship as selfish. Yes, she wanted her daughter back. But she also wanted to be a mother, to offer her a relationship. She wasn’t just trying to take something—she was trying to give.
“She’s leaving tomorrow,” Ruth said. “Though I wish she’d stay.”
Lidia shook her head. “It’s never easy, is it?”
“No. I guess it isn’t.”
“Would you like to come over for coffee tomorrow morning?”
Ruth looked at her in surprise. “Really?”
Lidia smiled at her reaction. “Yes, really. It’s nice to have someone in town who is my age and who’s dealing with a grown daughter.”
“Well, I’d love to,” Ruth said. And she meant it. Standing in that strange kitchen, washing dishes in easy conversation with a woman she’d met only a few hours ago, Ruth felt remarkably at home. Maybe the choices of her past would limit her future with her daughter. Maybe she would always be alone. But at least she had this place and these people, with open doors and open hearts. She’d come to this town for a reason, a reason she couldn’t fully explain even to herself. Ruth had never been one to second-guess her instincts. And once she had an idea in mind, she made it happen. Motion, always motion. Provincetown was a fresh start.
She could not force her daughter into a relationship with her. And she would not try. Clearly, it was time to let go.