“Did you do it?”Stevie said.
Corinthia nodded.
“Did she—uh—write back?”
Corinthia let go of the branch and stood silently.The forest was silent, too.She had almost opened her mouth to say “no” to Stevie when a rush of silver began at the outermost range of her senses and rolled toward her like an ocean wave, bright with metallic spray.
It reached her from every direction at once: an enthusiasticyesfrom the trees, from the wind, from the sand beneath her feet.It was through the forest but notofthe forest; it was Rosemary in every sense.
“She said yes,” Corinthia said.
Stevie pumped her fist into the air.
“Your turn,” Corinthia prompted, nodding toward Stevie’s pocket where her phone would be.
“Oh, right!”Stevie plunged her hand into her pocket and removed her phone.She raised it and waggled it in Corinthia’s direction.“At least with Drew, I only have to send a text message.”
That evening, when Corinthia had gone home to wash up and dress, she faced her closet with the coolness of mind of someone who was unsure about a great many things, but not clothing.It had taken years to determine what she liked and what she wore well, and once she had, she simply replicated the concept over and over, replacing like with like whenever anything wore out.
Everyday clothing she didn’t fuss about much.She had library t-shirts for work, and for any exercise she might take, a pair of track pants and an old t-shirt suited her fine.
But for an outing, she broke out the good stuff: nice jeans, a crisp white dress shirt, a tailored blazer.Special sneakers she kept in tip-top condition for dressy occasions.A flashy pair of gold earrings—hoops or something dangly—and, if she was really feeling foxy, a hat to top it all off.
Tonight, a black fedora.
“What do you think, Beaufort?”she said, holding her hands out and turning in a slow circle.
Beaufort thought this was a marvelous new game and leaped as high as he could, trying to reach the treats he imagined were waiting in Corinthia’s outstretched hands.
Corinthia stopped turning, grabbed a handful of treats, and ran the hound through all of his known tricks until her phone dinged insistently, one text after another in quick succession.Stevie had sent four shots of the same outfit from different angles.
Stevie’s going-out fashion also differed significantly from her daily look.No more khaki shorts and a nature-related t-shirt.Stevie glowed in an off-white jumpsuit and strappy sandal flats, hair let down from its usual ponytail to dance around her shoulders, a gold-toned lariat necklace and cuff-style bracelets adding glitz and color.Her makeup continued the golden theme with a wash of shimmery highlights.Is it too much?Stevie wrote.I don’t know what Drew will be wearing.
You look great, Corinthia wrote back.
Do you think she’ll like it?
If she has any sense, Corinthia wrote.She tucked the phone in her inside jacket pocket, did one last check of Beaufort’s supplies—food, water, toys, blanket—picked up a ribbon-tied box she’d placed on the counter, and left her car in the driveway in favor of going out the back door and over the makeshift drawbridge her fence had become.
The instant she set her foot on the sand, it was like coming home; like opening the door to a place she had loved all her life, though she had only really known of it for a few days.Her heart felt like a compass—the green cottage, true north—and she followed the path eagerly, pausing only at the top of the tall hill to smooth her lapels and carefully adjust the fedora to its most flattering angle.
Down the hill, the branches waved a greeting in the evening breeze, and the hidden birds alerted one another like old-timey newsboys shouting, “Extra!Extra!”
Corinthia looked at the box in her hand and wondered, like Stevie had about her outfit, if it was too much.Maybe the ribbon was too much.She pulled it off, felt foolish, and tied it back on again.She had picked these bonbons one by one, just as she would have curated a display of books: thoughtfully, with an expert eye.
Yes, chocolate was a perfectly acceptable gift.People gave one another chocolate all the time; ask anyone.Corinthia hurried down the hill, forgot the tree root, and tripped just like she had before.
At least she didn’t drop the chocolate.
The sky had faded down to the last haze of pink along the western horizon.The trees were almost silhouettes, except where they were close, in which case their leaves took on a silvery sheen.At first the cottage was not visible.There was only a heap of shrubs, wider than they were tall, marking the place where it had been, and Corinthia had a brief moment of panic when it became possible that she had imagined all of it.
But when she stopped at the bottom of the hill, what had not been there moments before immediately resolved itself, as if something had been quickly focused, like a microfiche machine, and there was the little green cottage with its round top door, two windows, and flowerbeds.All around the forest began to glow with its warm points of light, and the same illumination permeated the cottage walls and roof, until everything around the clearing was beautifully and comfortably lit.
Before Corinthia could even approach, the door sprang open and Rosemary ran outside, arms outstretched.“You came!”She closed the distance, and before Corinthia could think, let alone dodge, Rosemary wrapped her arms around her in a kinetic hug that almost tipped Corinthia off balance.
“Well, hello to you as well,” Corinthia said, one arm pinned to her side, but the other arm managing to pat Rosemary on the back with the box of chocolates.“I brought snacks.”
This got her an extra squeeze before Rosemary released her.“You did?Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Rosemary said, immediately setting to work at pulling the ribbon off the box and removing the lid.
