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1
Rowan
The sun dips below the horizon, shooting orange and red rays high toward the impending night sky. Pelicans soar over the water of Somerset Harbor. As the yachts come in for the night, couples disembark on the docks and walk to my family’s club for supper. Salt air fills my lungs, the perfume of a thousand memories.
It is a sunset for the ages, just the kind my wife used to enjoy. I sigh at the thought and knock back the rest of my Syrah. I prefer the patio to the dining room on warm nights. Out here, it is easier to avoid happy couples and pitying glances from anyone who knows me, and that is nearly every person inside.
My family has owned the Somerset Harbor Yacht Club for three generations, and the club shows no signs of slowing down. In fact, we have expanded several times over the years. Membership now includes a state-of-the-art fitness center, a private beach, a swimming pool, and tennis courts. We had to raise dues just to turn people away.
All that success means people know my family well, so when my wife Stacy died, an initial outpouring of sympathy was eventually followed by awkward silences and sad looks across the dining room. So, I choose the patio for most working suppers. The scenery provides the distractions I need to keep me sane.
I think I noticed Autumn Sherwood earlier, but she must have just been on my mind. She and I had a fun conversation at Quinn and Tonya’s wedding, and since then, I had thought about reaching out, but I wasn’t sure what to say. How do you tell someone, “I’m sorry my friend cheated on you and wrecked your marriage last year?”
Though, if I am honest with myself, it is a little more than that. My brothers are a bad influence and encouraged me to ask her out. It is stupid, really. Autumn and I have known each other for too long to date. We were strictly friend-zoned years ago.
My server, Wendy, pops by. “Mr. Cargill, may I get anything else for you?”
“Black coffee, please. I have another hour of reports before I go home.”
“Coming right up.” She scoots to the back. At least the staff doesn’t give me the pity eyes. I couldn’t take it if they did.
Working in-house counsel for Cargill Group means my office is at the yacht club. As law offices go, it is not a terrible location. All the seafood, sand, and piano jazz I could want. Stealing another glance before I return to my iPad’s reports, a head full of wavy auburn hair bouncing down the dock distracts me.
That’s Autumn, no doubt about it.
I have never seen her hair color on anyone else in my life. She comes around a yacht, snapping pictures. With every movement of her body, I try but cannot imagine what her ex-husband must have been thinking. Mark is a fool. He had been my friend, but he was a fool.
She is short, with a perfect hourglass figure and the warmest honey brown eyes I have ever seen. Freckles dot her nose and cheeks, and they dance when she smiles. Autumn is beautiful, but that is the least interesting thing about her.
As she photographs the marina, my coffee arrives. “Thank you, Wendy.”
“Of course. Anything else I can do for you?”
“That’s all for now.”
She smiles and nods, before dashing to her other tables.
I watch as Autumn clicks away, snapping shots of the pelicans on boats. She has such an eye for photography. I’ve always admired that about her, having never been gifted with an artist’s eye myself. Her smile is lit by the last rays of the sun. It is good to see her enjoying herself after what she had gone through with Mark. My heart aches for her on that score.
Despite that, I hadn’t known what to say when I’d started to dial her up after the wedding. Part of me feels guilty since Mark had been my friend. I had no clue about the cheating but feel like I should have known.
It is an awkward space to be in, and I finally have some strange camaraderie with all the people who stopped calling after Stacy died. Mark was stolen by a person, though. Not cancer. Certainly, it was not the same thing, but still. Awkward. Uncomfortable.
I wasn’t sure how to navigate such turbulent social waters, and I definitely did not want to say the wrong thing. Autumn always knew the right thing to say, even when Stacy was dying. She had been one of the few who did not stop calling back then. Somehow, Autumn could always make me smile.
I should have been there for her. Even if it was clumsy or I said the wrong thing. She wouldn’t have been alone. I should have called. So many times…
Autumn walks up the boardwalk toward the patio, and I am excited to speak to her. Maybe we can have a redemptive chat. She nearly strolls the other way, but I call out her name and wave.
Her grin is brighter than the sun. She makes a beeline straight for me, arms open wide. Those thin arms ring around my neck, practically strangling the life out of me.
Everything she ever does, she does it with her entire self, and when she hugs, she presses herself to me. It is nice to feel that close to someone again. In the fading light, Autumn is just as gorgeous as ever, from her kind eyes to her full lips and high cheekbones. “Rowan! I’m so happy to see you!”
“You too. Join me.” I gesture to the empty chair at my two-top table.
But she sees my iPad is out. “I would but, you’re working.”
I tuck it into my messenger bag. “Not anymore. Please.”
