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Sunday sets her drink down, scoots closer to her best friend, and wraps both arms around her. "Baby girl," she says quietly, shaking Ruby gently and staring at her as she talks. "A man cannot fault you for something you are physically unable to give him. But you can't fault him for wanting that thing either."
Ruby nods and the tears streak down her cheeks. She's given up trying not to cry. "I know."
"So let him go away and do his work. Let him think about you and how he feels about you. Let him come to grips with the idea that pursuing something serious with you means that he might be making some sacrifices. And I guarantee that if and when he comes to the conclusion that he still wants to move forward with you, it'll be because he knows it's worth it. The only person you get to be isyou, and Ruby Dallarosa Hudson,youare enough."
"Amen," Molly says, nodding and holding up her half-empty drink. "Amen."
Marigold nods and follows suit, holding her drink up as well. "Just be you, Ruby."
Ruby takes a napkin from the pile that Bev Byer drops off wordlessly at their table and pats her eyes dry as she laughs. "Thanks, girls. If anyone could understand how I'm feeling right now, I knew it would be you. I'll pull myself together--I promise."
"No, no. You cry all you want," Sunday assures her, finally releasing Sunday and scooting back to her own spot on the wooden bench. "Cry and have a couple of drinks, and oh!" Sunday smiles widely as Bev passes by again, dropping off ahuge platter of onion rings, french fries, and popcorn chicken with three different dipping sauces. "Have a bunch of greasy fried food to drown your sorrows."
"Thanks, Bev," Molly says to him, winking at him as he walks away.
Ruby reaches for an onion ring and drags it through the ranch dressing. "Don't mind if I do," she says with a sniffle.
"Hey," Marigold says in a brighter tone, picking up her phone again. "Did you see the latest pics of the kids in Dublin?"
Ruby chews her onion ring and leans over the table to see the screen of Marigold's phone: there, Marigold's son Elijah is standing in front of a castle with his arm slung casually over Ruby's daughter's shoulder as they both smile. Behind them, emerald green grass rolls out like a velvety carpet.
"Athena sent me that one!" Ruby nods, reaching for a french fry. "And she said they were going to try to see U2 while they were in Dublin--some kind of hometown show in a small venue."
"I'm so glad they're having a good time," Marigold says, looking at her phone one more time. "Oh, to be young again." She makes a face that's both wistful and envious before realizing what she’s saying. "But I guess that's just what we've been talking about, so I'm sorry for that."
"No, don't be!" Ruby assures her as she digs into the popcorn chicken. She is absolutely out to have a good time this evening with her friends, and she’ll worry about everything with Dexter tomorrow. "I would never begrudge anyone else their youth--particularly our kids--but I just wish young people understood how quickly it all goes so they could enjoy it more while they’re in it."
"Hey." Sunday elbows Ruby. "Here's a thought: maybeyou'rein it, too. Maybe right now is a great, golden time of your life, and you're missing it by wishing for a time that's already in the past."
Ruby grows somber as she considers this. "So you're saying in twenty years I'll look back and think that fifty was young and vital, and not over-the-hill and decrepit?"
Molly nods sagely. "You will," she promises the women, who are all about fifteen years younger than she is. "I promise you will."
"Huh," Ruby says, dipping a fry into the ketchup. "You're right." She gives a definitive nod. "Okay, new plan: tonight I wallow, and tomorrow I start appreciating."
The other women laugh.
"That seems fair, Rubes," Sunday says, motioning to the woman behind the bar for another round of drinks. "And if we're gonna wallow, then for god's sake lets wallow with another whiskey sour in our hands."
Walking the perimeter of the island with a hangover is a lofty goal, but Ruby sets out at six o'clock the next morning with a bottle of water, a hat, and her arms, legs, and neck covered in sunscreen. The night before, at The Frog's Grog, she'd overdone it with her friends, and today she wants to wake up, clear her head, and start the day fresh. Her plan is to walk the whole thing even though it might take her three hours, and she's caffeinated and ready to hit the sand when she sees Banks standing on the porch outside her kitchen.
"Banks," Ruby says breathlessly as she walks outside and closes the door behind her. "What are you doing here so early?"
Since he's been dating Sunday, and since they've relaxed their professional relationship a bit, Banks has nearly ceased to be Ruby's actual Secret Service agent. He doesn't drive her everywhere anymore, nor does he insist on sweeping her housefor threats as a precaution on a regular basis. He's still totally available to her should she need him for something, but after a bit of convincing on Ruby's part, they seem to be on the same page about things.
"I woke up, and I saw your lights on upstairs," he says simply. "I still wake up when you do and make sure that everything looks good."
"You do?" Ruby has assumed that he's either at Sunday's house, or that Sunday is staying with him and that Banks is otherwise occupied.
"Ruby. I might give you more space, and I try to live a bit more of my own life now that I'm fifty and staring down the barrel of eternity, but I haven't completely abdicated my duties. I could never forgive myself if something happened to you while I lounged around in bed with a cup of coffee."
"Huh." Ruby puts one foot up on the railing of her porch and leans towards her leg, stretching. "Well, thanks for keeping an eye on me."
"I'd like to go with you," Banks says, nodding at her tennis shoes.
"Where? I'm just headed out on a walk--nothing exciting."
"I'd still like to go. If you don't want to talk, I'd be happy to stay several paces behind. I have my AirPods," he says, tapping the front pocket of his shorts. "I can listen to music."
