“We met out at a bar in Boston. He was in town for a wedding. I was out with my single girlfriends. He walked in around midnight—suspenders, loosened bowtie, jacket over his arm. There’s just something about a man in a white dress shirt and suspenders, you know? I think he saw me too, because he wedged himself between my barstool and my friend’s to order his drink. He turned to me and said, ‘Hi,’ with a little nod.
“We flirted for the rest of the night, and he came back to my apartment with me. We had drunken, sloppy sex, and then we had coffee together in the morning and talked and talked, I think sharing more of ourselves because we both assumed we’d never see each other again. I told him about my disenchantment with my job. He told me about the Vineyard, his dreams for his and Luke’s company. When he left he said, ‘If you ever want a tour of Martha’s Vineyard, call me.’ And that was it for months.”
“And then…?” I’d stoppedeating my salad.
“I had a rough week at work. Finally realized start-up life might not be for me. We ended a really tense investor call on a Friday afternoon and I justfled. Before I knew it, I had a suitcase packed and was walking to South Station, checking the bus schedule on my phone. When I got on the bus to Woods Hole for the Martha’s Vineyard ferry connection, I texted Jeremiah asking if his offer of a tour still stood. I figured I wouldn’t hear back from him.”
“But you did of course.” I looked at Francesca, her deep tan complexion, brown eyes, and dark brown hair that fell almost to her waist. She was memorably beautiful. I noticed people noticing her every time we went somewhere together. I bet Jeremiah couldn’t believe his luck when she reached out.
She smiled, looking at the flower box hanging from the railing beside us. “Yes. He saved me the embarrassment of admitting I was already on the way because he asked if I was already on the island. Then he called me!”
“On the phone? Like it’s the nineties and we don’t have texting?”
“Yes! He convinced me to stay with him for the weekend. It was, hands down, the best weekend of my life. We just clicked, you know?”
I swallowed. I knew exactly how that felt now. Probably for the first time in my life. “Absolutely.”
“From there it was easy. We saw each other almost every weekend. I’d come here, he’d come to Boston. When I quit my job and came here to stay with him for a while, I just kinda…never left.” She shrugged one shoulder, beaming.
“I love that story.”
“Me too.” She smiled to herself and took a sip of her iced coffee. “That’s why I’m so proud of you for quitting your job. It was the best thing I ever did—taking a step back, thinking about what I wanted for the next chapter of my life.”
I choked up a little. Francesca and I had only hung out half a dozen times since we met, but she was quickly starting to feel likea real friend, someone I could be my true self with without fear of judgment. Besides, I’d never judged her for leaving a high intensity job that she fell out of love with, for making a career change to something totally different in her thirties. I admired her.
I drank in my flourishing surroundings and the flourishing woman across from me as I sipped my iced tea.I think I’m proud of myself, too.
“How’d Jeremiah convince you to do winters here? Is it as long and cold and boring as everyone says?”
“Honestly, I kind of like the winters here. Everything slows down by October, and the fall is beautiful. The air gets crisp, the leaves change color, the rhythms of the island slow. I hole up and read books and work on my website and marketing materials, do some self-education, long phone calls with friends and family. And then when it gets really cold, work slows down for Jeremiah, too. We watch movies every night, that kind of thing. We go off-island for the holidays, and then again in January or February for a vacation somewhere warm, and before you know it, it’s summer again.”
“That sounds really nice actually.” I pictured myself holed up with a book reading, or my laptop writing.
She pursed her lips as a knowing look spread on her face. “I think you’d like it.”
I had a feeling she was right.
32
Iwatched myself in the mirror as my fingers twirled the pieces of hair that framed my face this way and that, making sure the soft curls I put in would hold for a while. I’d finally found a dress this week at my favorite boutique downtown—the one I stopped in so often after dropping Luna off at sailing that they recognized me now. It was a deep emerald dress in a rayon material that hung like silk down to just below my knees, with a modest slit on one side and a cowl neckline. It hugged the curves of my hips and my butt just enough that I was proud of them, not insecure about them.
I told myself I didn’t buy it specifically because I hoped Luke would like it, but that was a lie.
I was more nervous about this fundraiser than I had a right to be. It wasn’t my project, my company, or even my event. But I’d been so involved with certain aspects of the planning with Francesca, I wanted everything to go well for her. I also hoped Karas Construction would hit its fundraising goal. Tickets were sold out, but they’d need some generous bids on the bigger ticket auction items, a ton of 50/50 raffle sales, and many direct donations to get there. Maybe nervous wasn’t the right word. More like invested and excited and dying to see Luke.
After adding gold dangling earrings and scrutinizing my makeup for a little too long, my phone buzzed on the hard surface of the vanity. Incoming call: Luke.
A butterfly fluttered in my belly like it always did when his name popped up on that screen.
“Hi!”
“Hi, Val. So, we have a tiny crisis happening over here, a braid emergency, if you will.”
“Dad!” I heard Luna call from the background, her tone accusatory.
I chuckled. “Luna wants braids in her hair for her playdate, and you can’t do it.”
“Precisely.” I heard a door click in the background before he said in a lower tone, “I know we need to leave for the event in half an hour. Maybe we can pick you up?”
