“Excuse me,” he says. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re looking for a job.”
When he smiles, I notice a row of white teeth. The two front onesare slightly longer than the others. It’s goofy but not in an unattractive way. He has curly, deep brown hair and strikingly blue eyes, the kind that are almost navy around the irises but Gatorade blue at the center. They’re shadowed by thick, bushy eyebrows.
I nod, taken aback. “Yes, I am.”
“We’re not hiring here anymore, unfortunately,” he says. “But I have another day job where I give tennis lessons at Great Harbor Yacht Club a few days a week. I know we’re in desperate need of a check-in person at the front desk. The pay is decent, better than retail, and the staff is fun. If you’re interested, I can put in a good word.”
There’s an appealing quality to him, a combination of confidence and sheepishness. He looks trustworthy, his fingernails nervously tapping against the counter. His nose is slightly too big for his face, and there’s a compelling asymmetry to his features. Beauty can be bland, so perfect your eyes practically skip right over it, but the flaws, the crooked imbalance, always make me want to linger. It is beauty you can hang your hat on. For the second time this trip, I wish I had my camera or something to sketch on.
“That’s amazing, thank you. That’s so generous of you, really. Um, sure, that would be great.”
“Awesome.” His face splits into a full grin. The expression reveals two deep-set dimples in either cheek. “Can I have your number then? And I’ll text you what my boss says.”
He hands over his phone. It’s thick and boxy, and there’s a large crack in the middle of the screen, which has begun to chip off in small parts. To my mortification, just as I’m entering my number, Mom returns from the bathroom. The stool scrapes loudly against the ground as Rose takes a seat, leaning over to look at the phone.
“What’s this?” she asks, humor in her voice. “Did you make alittle friend while I was gone?” Rose winks at the bartender who, to his credit, smiles confidently back, unfazed by the teasing.
“This is…” I hand the phone back to him. “I’m sorry, this is so rude of me. I didn’t catch your name.”
“You can call me Theo. All my friends do, and apparently, we’re little friends now.”
He addresses me when he’s speaking but, at the end of the sentence, turns to wink at Rose, who immediately throws her head back laughing.
“You’re funny,” she says. “I like you.”
“Thank you,” says Theo. “I like you, too, but I think I might be a little too young for you. Do you happen to have a daughter who looks remarkably similar to you?”
Rose roars with laughter again, slapping her knee and almost spilling her water in the process.
“Okay, enough,” I say.
Theo and Rose share a wry look, both giggling like little kids conspiring together in class behind the teacher’s back.
As they laugh, I can’t help thinking again about this mysterious Thomas Wentworth character again. I’ve never known my mom to be anything but steadfast, collected and disciplined and selfless. Today, talking about Thomas, she seemed different. She seemed… vulnerable.
What are the odds this man from her past would return like this—living directly next to us for the entire summer?
Henry’s face appears in my mind, floating up to the surface and blocking everything else out almost like it was summoned.
My past may be doomed, but that doesn’t mean it’s too late for Rose. And unlike Rose, I know it’s never really over.
Chapter EightLily
May 30
Once again, Mom is gone before I wake. There’s a sticky note on the back of the door and a silk dress hanging from the frame.
“At work,” the note reads in Rose’s flowery script. “I got this for you for Friday’s event. 7pm at Bartlett’s Farm, don’t forget. Won’t be back until after dinner.”
It’s Memorial Day, but leave it to Rose to work on a bank holiday.
I walk to the full-length mirror on the back of the door and hold the dress against my body. The green fabric is near identical to the color of my eyes. So thoughtful, I think. Rose has always been the best at giving gifts. As a kid, I thought she could read my mind.
The dress is for the event on Friday, in four days. I assumed I would just pull something together from Rose’s closet, but knowing she thought of me ahead of time like this warms my heart.
Every summer since Rose first became involved in the island’s mental health community, we have volunteered at several charity events. It’s the busiest time of the year for fundraising, and manyof the local nonprofits rely on one summer party to sustain their programming for the entirety of the year. This is the benefit of the summer people. Usually, we will run the auctions or help set up decorations.
At the end of July, Rose is being honored at the Dragonfly fundraiser as the Clinician of the Year. The event raises money for the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) and the local therapy office, Fairwinds. Rose is expected to give a speech, which she has been working on for the last month. I can hear her sometimes, practicing in the shower, but I can never quite distinguish the words.
