lítost
There was a Czech word for the torment you inflict upon yourself at the sight of your own misery.Lítost.
That was exactly how I felt—tormenting myself—as Oliver opened the passengerside door to his sleek silver Lexus ES. It wasn’t that I didn’twantlunch, but the butterflies in my stomach had returned with a vengeance and I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to bear this before I prayed for the earth to swallow me whole. Not only was I not accustomed to people opening car doors for me, I certainly wasn’t used to fraternizing with my employer’s nephew.Wasthis fraternizing? I’d best not think too hard on that. Eula didn’t seem to mind, regardless.
It was times like these that I missed New York City, if only for the absolute anonymity of it all. I could keep my head down, and no one knew I existed. That got lonely sometimes, but then I’d get on dating apps and go on a few dates and feel a little better. Since the funeral, my invisibility had felt like a balm.
But now, the longer I lived here, the more I was forced to exist.
I pried myself out of the leather seat and shuffled after him up to the lobster roll shack in town. Pinch, the shack in question, was busy this afternoon, but we found a table under a striped red and white umbrella and brought over our lobster rolls and Diet Cokes to sit in the shade.
The early afternoon was surprisingly pleasant, and much cooler than the last few days. A group of teenage girls sat at the table next to us, hunched over one of their phones, captivated by a video. They giggled occasionally and shared glances, all of them wearing matching friendship bracelets.
Oliver polished off his entire lobster roll in a few short bites and started on the basket of fries we decided to split. “Don’t repeat this, but Pinch has the best lobster rolls in Maine. Everyone says it’s Red’s, but they’re wrong. How is it?” he added excitedly.
The lobster meat was sweet and tender. “Good,” I replied.
He rolled his eyes. “Good! It’s the best I’ve had. I always come here first thing whenever I visit Eula. The owner used to know my name, but Claude retired a few years ago. The lobster rolls are the same, though.”
I picked out a lump of lobster meat and ate it by itself. There was so much shoved into the hoagie bun, it threatened to fall completely out every time I tried to take a bite. I now understood why they included a fork on the tray.
At the table across from us, the teenagers shrieked as a sea-gull swooped in to steal a bit of bread from an abandoned lobster roll. We watched them situate themselves again around the table, settling into a conversation about their senior year.
“So what brings you to Lilymoor?” I heard Oliver ask, propping his chin up on his hand. I blinked, surprised at hisbluntness. He took a sip of Diet Coke as he waited for my answer.
“Work,” I said honestly.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “Sure, but you volunteered for this, right? I mean, Lala was going on and on about how you came highly recommended from the NYBG.”
Ah. That. I shrugged, taking the fork and deciding to pick through the lobster meat like a bird instead, at least until I could eat the entire thing without half of it falling onto the tray.
He wasn’t letting it go, though. “Is it the pretty flowers? The hedges? The goose?”
That made me laugh. “Definitely the goose.”
“I knew it.” He shook his head. “It’s always the goose. Everyone loves the goose.”
“What bringsyouto Lilymoor?” I echoed.
If he was surprised by the reverse question, he didn’t let it show as he took a sip of his Diet Coke, prolonging the answer. “What do you think?” Then his gaze flicked up to mine. Here, in the shade, his eyes were the color of freshly tilled earth, soft and brown and deep.
I shook my head. “I think you’re dodging.”
He gave a puff of a laugh. “I guess I am.” He rubbed his thumb against the outside of the soda cup, wiping away the condensation. “I love my aunt. I should have been here sooner—I know I should have.”
“And that’s why you came back?”
“Sure,” he replied simply, “and I’m afraid she’ll fall a second time. I should’ve been there the first time, and I don’t want to make that mistake again.” He ran his fingers through hishair. “It’s my fault she got hurt in the first place. I knew she shouldn’t be living alone. I just . . . I didn’t want to upend my life. Move here. Live in that creaky old house. But I should’vebeenhere. I knew better. I always know better, I just don’tlisten,” he added to himself, and sat back with a sigh.
I put down my fork, deciding that I was done with the lobster roll even though I’d only eaten half of it. “I know she appreciates that you’re here now, anyway.”
He grimaced. “Yeah, it’s just awful timing. She probably also thinks I want to inherit Lilymoor, too.”
“You don’t?” I asked, surprised.
“I mean—you aren’t going to eat that?” He pointed to the rest of my roll, and I pushed it over to him to finish it off. He didn’t so much as hesitate, and it was gone in three bites. “So my cousin and I used to come to the house every summer,” he said, licking his fingers. “We always talked about what we’d do once the estate was ours—the gardens we’d make, the ones we’d bulldoze, the tree houses and cottages and art installations. I even designed aroller coasterfor this place when I was ten,” he added conspiratorially, leaning in toward me.
I tried to school my face. “Oh wow. That would be . . .”
