Page 130 of Perfect Satisfaction

“What I’m sharing with you is to search deep in your heart to find your home, Sula. The reason the StellaNova of today succeeds isn’t due to any grand desire by my grandson to live the same loneliness as his grandfather or the lasciviousness of his father. It’s because he’s waiting to come home.” Edward pats my foot before he turns and leaves me on the jetty.

Thinking.

About home.

Family.

Broken hearts.

And love.

CHAPTERSIXTY-SEVEN

I’ve died and gone to heaven. I’m in Maine for the weekend.

No, I didn’t score an invitation to The Lost Kitchen.

I’m not certain the setting of Erin French’s romantic mill in Freedom, Maine could compare to the jetty where I’ve been sitting, watching seals frolic in the surf.

Who am I kidding? On behalf of my wife, I still dropped a postcard in the mail for a possible last-minute cancellation.

—StellaNova

Our third morning in Maine,I wander into the “library,” such as it is. It’s more a room of sanded tongue-and-groove pine that’s been beautifully maintained. Covering every flat surface are pictures.

I’ve been dying to spend time walking through Arek’s past since we first got here.

Edward is with me as I lean forward, inspecting a picture of Arek on a tricycle. His frustration is evident.

“Whoever took that shot captured him perfectly.”

“Erica.”

My hand reaches for his and I give it a squeeze, knowing how difficult it is for him to discuss the woman he still loves. It’s the same reason I refused to discuss Arek during the time we were apart.

“Even as a boy, he still had that stubborn adorableness to him.”

“Like to call it straight?”

“I try to. I’d be out of a job if I didn’t.”

Edward then asks what I do, and I give him the abbreviated version. He lets out a long low whistle. “Are you happy? It sounds like a lot of work.”

“Some days. Others, I think I’d like to chuck it all and live in a place like this.”

“You feel something here.”

I hesitate before admitting, “Yes. And that’s rare. Places are normally just that.”

“That’s because there was once love here.”

I pat his meaty hand. “There still is, Edward. Now, will you tell me about the photos?”

One by one, he walks me through the pictures on the walls. I grin at Arek, broken out with acne at his senior prom, standing properly next to his date—a bashful Indian girl whose head is ducked away from the camera. There’s something familiar about her, someone she reminds me of. Dismissing the thought, I remark to Edward, “Neither of them looks thrilled to be with the other.”

Edward chuckles. “Likitha didn’t have a date. Arek found out and pounded on her door. Told her that she was going and to get ready. They were best friends.”

My smile turns wistful. “Yes, that sounds like something he’d do.”