Jen looked back over her shoulder several times as she, Carrie and Daisy headed south toward the Newport house. Daisy did, too, but for probably a different reason.
“He looked good,” Carrie said as she, too, looked back at Joe walking north toward his house. Boris was trotting alongside him slowly, and Joe took frequent glances toward the sailboats bobbing past the waves.
“He did, but oh, those sad eyes. It was like a dagger when I gave my condolences about his dad.”
Carrie paused for a second. “I remember the same look in your eyes when Allen died. It was decades ago, but at the same time it feels like it was just last weekend. Things like that don’t fade very quickly,” Carrie said.
Jen remembered that Carrie had always told her that she looked like that, too. For an entire year after.
Jen shook off the memory. It was a long time ago, and things were very different now. “Too bad he didn’t want to come over. I do know how he feels, but getting back in the world is the only remedy. Company would be good for him, and I’m sure Daisy would agree about Boris. One thing I learned is that it helps to talk about things. Reminisce. Remember the good stuff.”
Carrie looked back one more time as Joe sat on the stoop, Boris plopping down beside him.
“Maybe he’s just not ready yet,” she said as they reached the Newport house.
The gate of the white picket fence creaked as Jen scooted Daisy inside and took off her leash. Jen brushed white paint chips from the gate on her now-dirty jeans and leaned back against it, looking up at the house.
“Ah, home sweet home. You happy to be back for another season?”
Jen shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up at the roof of the loft, the highest story. “Thrilled. But it looks as if home sweet home needs a little TLC. Faith’ll have to tell you how hard it was to even get in here.”
Carrie stomped sand off her feet before she climbed up the stairs. The wooden, weather-beaten door swung open, and she wrapped Faith in a big hug. It was her favorite time of year, and seeing her friends meant that summer had officially begun.
“Great to see you,” Faith said. “I can’t believe we’re all together again.”
Jen and Carrie followed Faith into the kitchen, where Carrie popped the bottle of wine into the freezer.
“I didn’t know when you’d be back after I saw Daisy pull you up the beach, so I went ahead and made the artichoke dip.”
Jen opened the oven and inhaled deeply. Artichoke dip was their inauguration tradition—tangy marinated artichoke hearts, parmesan cheese, cream cheese, onions—everything delicious. The creamy dip bubbled and had almost started to brown on the top, and in the sourdough bread bowl, it smelled divine. She couldn’t wait to have some.
Dust plumed in the streaming sunlight as Jen took a stroll around the bottom floor of the house. Family pictures dotted the walnut-paneled walls and her grandmother’s collection of teapots sat on the yellow Formica counters.
Carrie plopped a stack of design magazines on the counter and looked around.
“It’s too bad they’ve never let you remodel this place. Or redecorate, even. We could do wonders here,” she said, holding up a magazine cover of a remodeled beach house up next to the orange and yellow flowered curtains that had to date back to the ‘70s. Maybe the ’60’s.
“It really is awful, isn’t it? My mother always said, “Why bother when everything is always covered in sand?” And when the kids were little, it was still that way. Now that they’re all grown up, maybe the others might agree to a little sprucing up here and there.”
“Just in time for grandchildren to ruin it all,” Carrie chimed in. She checked the bottle of wine and nodded, indicating it was cool enough. “I kind of like it the way it is. Brings back lots of memories. It wouldn’t be the same without the orange and avocado chairs.”
Jen laughed and fluffed an orange throw pillow with a tree embroidered on it in green yarn. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But we do need to attend to some of the deferred maintenance. We don’t want the whole thing to actually fall down,” she said, picking some white paint from the fence off of her jeans.
Carrie dropped a handful of bread cubes onto a baking sheet that Faith had handed her.
“Ah, I see you remember your job,” Jen said. Carrie could barely boil water on her own, but she’d learned over the years how to be a good sous-chef—cutting up things for Jen and Faith to add to their trial recipes.
“Did Jen tell you that none of the family has booked time this summer?” Faith asked Carrie as she poured their glasses of the crisp chardonnay they’d brought.
Carrie raised her eyebrows as she turned to Jen. “No, she didn’t. But it’s not exactly like we had time for that. We ran into Joe.”
Faith had been leaning toward the artichoke dip and stopped in mid-reach. She turned to Jen, her eyebrows arched. “Oh? How was that? We haven’t seen him in—forever.”
“I think I forgot to tell you that he and Claudia aren’t together anymore. And his dad died. So we pretty much just said we were sorry for him, invited him over tonight, but he said no. And then came back.”
“Oh, my gosh,” Faith said, sitting slowly on one of the plastic orange bar stools. “I wish he would come. I’d love to see him. It’s been a long time.”
“Maybe he’ll change his mind,” Carrie said as the three of them loaded up a tray with the artichoke dip, a wine cooler with a fresh bottle in it and the bread to dip into the warm, creamy parmesan concoction.
Faith swung open the door to the main deck and the friends dusted off three orange cushions for the deck chairs, reached for their wine and toasted each other.
Jen lifted her glass toward the beach. “I hope so. But meantime, let’s get this summer started.”