46

“I have something I need to do real quick,” I say to my kids and my dad. “Can I meet you at the inn in a bit?”

“I left my purse in the church,” Greer says.

“Okay, Grandpa will wait,” I say. I need to go to Ethan’s house. I need to take him to our chairs by the pool and tell him that I was wrong. That I don’t give up, that I want more, whatever that looks like.

“No, could you help me find it?” she asks.

Something’s up. “Sure,” I say, and we walk back in through the big double doors. I start up the aisle to where we were sitting, and Greer takes my hand to stop me.

“I didn’t bring a purse.”

I turn and look at her.

“I was really upset,” she says. “About my friends. And I guess I’ve been upset about everything else too.”

“I know that. And you have every right to be,” I say, and squeeze her hand.

She drops mine and fiddles with the strap on her sundress. “But I didn’t mean that about you disappearing. I don’t think you’re going to. I know you’ve been sad, but I know you’re here for me.”

“Thank you, it feels good not disappearing,” I say. Super Me in a world of pain is still Super Me.

“And maybe that thing with Scooter was a good thing. He’s cool,” she says. “Like, he’s so easy to be around.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Fancy would have liked him.” She smiles my mom’s smile.

“Yes.” I’m pretty sure Fancy sent him. I pull her into a hug. How complicated it is to be a daughter and a person. “One time when he was teaching me to skateboard, I was trying to learn how to go up the ramp with the right amount of speed, you know? I went up, and when I was coming back down, I could feel my balance go off. I could feel myself start to fall. And the funny thing was that as I was falling I thought, this was really fun and totally worth it.”

She smiles up at me. “Did you get hurt?”

“No,” I say. “He caught me. Just like Fancy would have. And I’ll always catch you too.”

---

My dad takes my kids to the reception at the inn. I don’t need to tell him where I’m going. He knows.

I’m going to tell Ethan that I’m sorry, that it’s not over. I’m going to tell him that I know who he is, and that I know he can be that person anywhere, that we’ll figure it out. I don’t know why I never told him I loved him. In the agony of the past two weeks, the one thing I’ve been sure of is that I will never feel this way about another person again. He was it. When I’m Phyllis’s age I will remember this summer and the way it changed my heart. And if he doesn’t want to believe me, it’s fine. I just need to tell him.

I pull up in front of Ethan’s house and his car is not in the driveway. There are two other cars, and a guy is standing on a ladder looking at the gutters. A woman in a sensible suit is checking things off a list. The For Sale sign is gone. I catch my breath and rest my head on my steering wheel. It’s just a house, I tell myself. But it’s an ending. It’s the end of the summer I’ve just spent there and the end of Ethan coming back here. Even when he visits his parents for the holidays, he’ll be going to Florida. Frannie’s the last Hogan in Beechwood.

I wipe the tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand and make my way toward the inn. I slow down as I pass the skate park, delusional that I’ll find him there on the half-pipe in his divorce-day suit. The inn is the last possible place he could be, unless he’s left town already. The thought gives me an empty, sick feeling in my stomach. I picture Ethan driving home to Devon to get back to his actual life. In a different life, I would be getting on the highway with him.

I park at the dog park rather than at the inn because I don’t want to get blocked in, and I could use a little fresh air. I walk across the park in my sandals and feel the dry grass of summer’s end brush against my feet. I pass the spot where Ferris picked Ethan for me, and I tell myself it was worth it. I wouldn’t go back and unlove Ethan in order to not be feeling the broken way I’m feeling right now. I’d do it again.

I get to the end of the dog park and walk through the gate to the inn. It’s hot, and I could really use a breeze. Even the flag that usually flaps over the inn droops in the thick, still air. To its right I see something hanging over the railing of the widow’s walk. I think it’s a blanket, but when my eyes focus, I see it’s a suit jacket. Next to it are two forearms resting on the rail, clutching a beer. I would know those golden forearms anywhere. I race behind the inn and around to the side where the narrow stairwell has been bolted shut forever, and the door is open. I climb the steps more slowly than I want to because of my shoes and take them off halfway and run. When I throw open the door to the landing, he’s there looking out at the water.

We are very high up. Of course I knew this, but I’ve never been up here to get a real sense of it. There’s no breeze at all, and everything seems perfectly still. In front of me, I can see all the way to Long Island. Behind me, I can see all the way to the end of town. In this stillness, I am feeling clear on everything.

He turns and sees me holding my shoes. “Hey,” he says.

I walk over to him, but I don’t touch him. We both turn back to the railing and watch the tide roll out as I catch my breath.

“It was a nice funeral,” he says.

“Yes.”

“It’s going to be hard for you without her. She was a big part of your life.”

“Yes,” I say again. But it was worth it. I’d make eggs for Phyllis and sneak vanilla pudding into her refrigerator all over again, knowing I’d miss her like this today. Because that’s what life is—joy peppered by loss. It’s why you get a dog. And then you get another dog. Madness repeating itself just to get another taste of joy. I turn to him and don’t say any of this. “It’s weird there’s no breeze up here.”

“Yeah. Everything feels kind of stuck.”

“Yeah.” Someone goes by on a kayak. There are sailboats out in the distance. I want to ask him if I can touch his hand. Or if we could take a walk. I want to know if I could spend one more day with him before he goes because there’s value in a single good day.

“You’re really great at talking about the weather,” he says finally.

“It’s a gift,” I say.

He looks out at the water.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong,” I say.

“No kidding.” He takes a sip of his beer. I want him to turn to me, to invite me in.

“This has been really hard,” I say.

We watch the water. A pair of paddleboarders are passing Pelican Island. “Did you really think I was just going to let this go?” he asks.

“You didn’t really have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Ali. You broke your promise.”

“I know,” I say. “I broke my own heart too.”

I’m looking for some way back in. Like some sign that he’ll give me today, or this week, or the rest of the summer. But he’s not reaching out to me. His body language is closed. He stares at the water, and I feel shut out.

Desperate, I ask, “How long will you be here?”

“How long do you want me to be here?”

“As long as possible.”

He doesn’t say anything.

I try again. “I thought it would be too painful to say goodbye to you. And I was right, by the way. I can’t do it.” I want to tell him I’ve changed my mind about the dog thing, but I’m sick of talking in circles. I take a breath and just say it. “I love you.”

He turns to me, finally, and I go on. “I know that’s a big thing to say, but I do. Can we just have more time? I can’t handle the idea that this is over. I’m not going to feel this way again.”

There are tears in his eyes. He pulls me into his arms and I rest my head on that spot on his chest where I could stay forever. It would be nice if he said he loves me too. My words are just hanging there, but I guess that’s okay. Not everything balances.

I pull away because I might as well say the thing. “I think what I wanted to say to you, besides that, is that I think you’d be the most important part of any community you lived in. I don’t think you’d lose yourself if you left Devon. You are so strong and sure that you make other people strong too. I’m not saying move here, I’m just saying you’re loved here too. And if moving is impossible, then that’s fine too. I could drive to Devon every week. I would totally do that.”

“Ali,” he says. He takes both of my hands. The shock of the feel of his hands in mine temporarily removes me from this conversation. Yes, I just told him I loved him. But God, do his hands feel good. “I’m staying here, in Beechwood.”

“No, you can’t do that,” I say. I’m looking right into his eyes and I know for sure that no one, including me, tells Ethan what he can or cannot do.

“Don’t make me say the whole architect thing.” He pulls me closer. “I made kind of a big decision. You might not actually like it. I don’t know. I did it for myself, but also hopefully for us.”

I don’t say anything. I’m mesmerized by the word “us.”

“I gave the house away. I donated it to the city.”

I come to. “What?”

“I was wandering around Devon trying to get it to feel like home again, trying to get back to being the person I was before you. And it just felt empty. I moved there because it felt good. I realized that what felt good there was that it was a place where I could belong. But that’s not enough anymore. I belong with you.”

My heart stops and I don’t even blink. I want to make sure I heard him right. “Really?” I wrap my arms around his neck.

“Really,” he says. He kisses me, and the salty taste of him is my first clue that I’m crying. Relief washes over me, just being this close to him. He rests his forehead on mine and wipes my tears with his thumbs. I have this funny feeling that neither of us has the upper hand; I can feel both of our hearts reaching out for one another.

“But what about everyone in Devon?”

“That’s sort of complicated. I mean, Barb can find a guy to change her alarm batteries, and I can do legal work remotely, but the kids at the skate park still need me. They’ve got my number, and I’m going to go back to Devon once a week. But I’m also setting up my parents’ house as a place for kids to come when they’ve aged out of the system. Michael and Louie are the first two who are coming down. I have a social worker involved, and Frannie’s going to give them temporary work at the diner. We always need people at the inn in the summer.”

“Frannie knows this?”

“Yes, she’s been very cool the past few days, actually, and she’s been begging me to tell you, but it wasn’t settled until this morning. And I wasn’t sure what you’d think.”

“It’s an amazing thing to do.”

“And, honestly, Ali, it’s not like no one needs me here. I’ve been coming back here like a teenager, sort of regressing to what they expect of me. But my parents do need help, with the inn and everything. Theo needs me; you know they’re never going to let that kid learn to walk.”

“True.” I laugh. “And you thought I wasn’t going to like this?” I run my hands over the sleeves of his crisp white shirt.

“Well, maybe. You love that house. Maybe you pictured a different kind of future. But it feels right. And all the rest of it, I can figure out.” He smiles at me, and I feel like I want to spend the rest of my life in that smile.

“You are honestly the best person I’ve ever met.” I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I doubt that. But I love you, Ali, like in a way that’s so intense I don’t think I could even explain it to you. So I’m staying.” He kisses me again, more deeply, and I feel myself melt into him in that way I never thought I would again. “I love you,” he says into my mouth. “I love you so much, Ali.” In the irony of my lifetime, everything I have ever yearned for has materialized on the widow’s walk.

Ethan cups my face in his hands and presses his forehead to mine. “No more goodbyes, okay?” I nod and kiss him again. It’s a promise. The wind picks up out of nowhere and I feel the breeze skim my cheek. A flash of red catches the corner of my eye as the flag waves at us. This sparkles for sure, she says.

The sun is getting low over the town behind us, but I don’t want to turn away from him to watch it set. I want to stay in his arms, where I am somehow completely protected and completely free. The impossible thing. “Where are you going to live?” I ask into his neck.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll stay at the house for a bit. Just to make sure things get off to a good start. I’ll find a place, and in the meantime I can always stay here, at the inn.” He looks around. “We should get some furniture up here, just for us. I’m the only person in the world with a key. I found it in my dad’s office.”

“I can’t believe you did this.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t think of it. Weren’t you the valedictorian?”

“I never in a million years thought someone would completely change their life for me.”

“I never in a million years thought I’d want to.” He kisses me again, and I want to stay here forever.

“Wait, do your parents know?”

“Yes, I put together a whole pitch to explain it to them, how it would work legally as a nonprofit and with the city. All they focused on was you. Of all the things, I think you’re the thing they’re finally proud of me about. They asked about a hundred times if we’re getting married. They wanted to know what your kids think about step-grandparents.”

I am smiling at this possibility. More grandparents, more family, more Ethan. “Thank you for doing this. For everybody.”

“I did it mostly for myself.”