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“Oh, no, not tonight. Go crazy, wear those flip-flops. We don’t get too fancy in these parts.”
A sweet smile spreads across her face, and it takes a force of epic proportions to pull me away and down the cabin steps. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Solia crosses her ankles and leans against the front porch railing with a look that has me wanting more. I wink and reluctantly walk to my truck.
* * *
Ifollow West Shore Road around the lake, unaccustomed to my newfound happiness. Spending the day with Solia has flipped my world upside down. Because of her, a little part of me that I thought was buried too deep is beginning to surface.
Once parked, I rest my head against the steering wheel and tap out for a minute. I won’t let myself spiral. I force my doubt to the back of my head, enter my condo, and get ready for dinner.
The area around Meriden doesn’t have many fancy restaurants. People here are simple and enjoy casual dinners. Fire Hearth is a four-season restaurant off Main Street. In the summer, the owners set up patio tables and chairs on the deck and string white lights to create a warm and inviting atmosphere.
“I’ve never been here.” Solia reaches for my hand. She looks beautiful in her short yellow sundress and white sneakers. She has her hair tied into a high ponytail, accentuating her long, slender neck, and a delicate infinity gold necklace draped along her collarbone. My thoughts wander back to earlier, hoping tonight’s conversation is as easy as today’s. She makes me relax, so at home.
“The menu is extensive, so everyone finds at least a few options they like. The head chef has been here for as long as I can remember, and the owners are amazing.”
The hostess seats us at an outside table, and we order two pints of the local IPA. As the waitress walks away, I see the owner, Gary, walking toward us. A sudden shift of unease settles in my stomach, and I wish I could disappear into thin air. Gary watched me grow up, practically family, so he’s no stranger to what I’ve been through.
“Hey there, Jackson, how are you? It’s great to see you here tonight.” He looks from me to Solia, unapologetically obvious he is waiting for an introduction to my stunning date.
“Great. Thanks for asking. This is Solia—she’s new to town.”
Gary extends a welcome to Solia. She smiles sweetly and shakes his hand. “It’s great to meet you. Have you lived here long?”
He lets out a hearty chuckle. “Sweetie, I’ve been here my whole life. Just like my parents and their parents. Once you fall in love with a place the way we did, you become a thread in the fabric. You can’t leave. It’ll destroy you—nothing will ever compare to these streets.” Gary looks from Solia to me. “Jackson, I sure am happy to see you here. Sharon and I have missed you. Don’t be a stranger.” He winks and walks through the summer crowd and into the restaurant through the patio doors.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Chances are always high I’ll run into a familiar face. Analyzing Solia’s expression, I see uncertainty rear its ugly head. Sensing her question before she speaks, I lean back in my chair and stroke my chin. “I guess it’s been awhile since I’ve been here. That orchard keeps me busy, and busy is good. I’m better off keeping my mind focused.”
“Oh. He seemed surprised to see you.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s been a long time.” A waitress arrives at our table, not our waitress, but a waitress, and at this point I don’t care. I’m just thankful for the interruption. Nicole sets two drinks on the table.
“Here you are, two Manhattans.” She looks at me and then Solia. “Oh goodness, I am so sorry. I’m at the wrong table. I’m sure your waitress will be right with you.” She gathers the small glasses filled with vermouth and a cherry and heads to the table behind us where an elderly couple sits smiling in her direction.
“Those were definitely not IPAs.” Looking over at Solia, I’m stunned to see tears. I stretch past the flickering candle in the middle of our table and reach for her. “What’s wrong, Solia?” I wait patiently to see if she’ll respond. A single tear flows down her cheek, illuminated by the candlelight. I squeeze her hand a little tighter.
She pulls away and wipes the stream of tears. “I’m fine, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I’m crying. You’re going to think I’m a basket case if I tell you why.”
“Try me. I’m pretty sure anything you say won’t change my impression of you. Unless you don’t want to share … I can pretend this didn’t happen.”
Surprising me, Solia speaks. “Growing up, I was extremely close to my mother’s parents. They were amazing, not only separately but as a couple. Their stories were legendary, as was their commitment to family, and they shared an everlasting love people search for their whole lives.” She pauses and shifts in her seat. “Married for seventy-six years, they loved life and each other until the very end. That side of my family is large, and they were our glue, our North Star. Losing them”—the tears continue, but she allows them to flow—“was awful. My grandfather passed first in November, at home, surrounded by his family. It was beautiful and just the way he wanted it. He insisted everyone pour a Manhattan and cheer for a life well lived. Not even four months later, my grandmother passed from a broken heart.”
I caress her skin, hoping to reassure her I’m listening to her every word.
“After they passed, my family changed drastically. Instead of having Sunday dinners together and filling their home with laughter and music, each family started slowly distancing themselves to begin their own traditions. No one fought or argued—it was simply a new beginning, a different way of existing. I’m not sure my grandparents would be proud of this, but they’re no longer here to hold us together. My life continued as planned and naturally, I missed them.
“It was later that I came across a book a friend had recommended. I love to read different genres, so I’m always willing to try new books. Her recommendation had to do with life after death, souls, energy, light, and so on. I never gave any of those things much thought. My parents took me to church when I was little, and I believe in heaven, but that’s pretty much where my thoughts and beliefs end.” She pauses. “I’m dragging this out. Sorry. You must be ready to pull your hair out.”
She couldn’t be further from the truth. I am so invested in her words, every single one. I stare at her, hoping she will continue, and reach across to wipe the smooth skin beneath her eyes. I take her hand back in mine and nod.
With a gentle smile and tilt of her chin, she proceeds. “After I read the book, my grandparents entered my thoughts often, and I began to contemplate life after death. If they could hear me, then maybe it would be possible to connect with loved ones who’ve passed, and I figured, why not try? You’d have to read the book to fully understand, but anyway, I started to talk to them aloud when I was alone in my car or before I went to bed. I found it comforting, and it brought me peace thinking they could sense my love.
“I read that for those who are open to the possibility of connecting to loved ones who have crossed, you should ask for a sign. A sign you can see, a specific sign, an object you wouldn’t normally see in everyday life. I knew I was open. I never say never. So, I tried it.
“One day while driving, I was telling my grandparents about an event that happened in my life, that I was unsure if I was doing the right thing. I told them I needed guidance. I asked them to show me a sign of a Manhattan if I was on the right path since it was their favorite drink. Every day at five p.m., we would find them at their counter toasting a Manhattan.
“Days later, they sent me the sign and haven’t stopped since. When that waitress came over with the wrong drinks, that was them. This move to New Hampshire is drastic, and I doubt myself at times, wondering if I can handle this and figure it out. Now, I’m reassured they agree with my decision.” She lifts her chin and gently smiles.
