“Then come.” She punched the clicker to open the gate. “Can I give you a lift or are you going to pedal there?”
“Pedal there.” He trailed behind her on the bike.
She’d met him and his wife, Kay, back when Jeremiah had entered The Kellan School as a kindergartener. Burke’s daughter, the younger of his two kids, had been in Jeremiah’s class. Kay was an attorney. Burke’s schedule, as the only architect at a firm he’d founded, had been more flexible. He’d become involved in the PTA and the school moms had begun referring to him as Nice Dad. Calm. Genuine. Understated. Good-looking. Not as good-looking as Felix, of course. But then, no one was as good-looking as Felix.
She and Burke had interacted quite a bit as their progeny had promoted through the grades side by side. There’d always been a zing of chemistry between them. All very chaste, yet enough of a zing that his presence had made volunteering at the school more enjoyable.
When Fiona had learned of Felix’s affair with their housekeeper, she’d vengefully imagined the affairs she’d have in return to give Felix a taste of his own medicine. Vividly, she recalled thinking,I’ll have an affair with Burke!From there, her schemes had become more far-fetched.I’ll have an affair with my golf pro who’s a decade younger! No, I’ll have an affair with Tom Cruise! He presents himself as straight via his marriages but is he really? I know,I’ll have an affair with Liam Neeson! He's definitely straight.
Those fantasies had remained fictional.
Long, long ago, at the age of twenty-three, she actuallyhadengaged in an affair. With Felix. For a good long time after that, she’d been optimistic or naïve or deluded enough to think that she would be able to repair her reputation. But no. She now deeply comprehended that the public’s opinion of her would stay the same throughout her life and after her death. That long-ago affair had remained the one and only affair of her lifetime because it had done more than enough damage, thank you very much.
Now, at the age of fifty-eight, her affair was very far back in her rearview mirror. Her divorce from Felix, eighteen years back. Since then, she’d had a handful of romantic relationships. None serious.
She left her car in the garage, passed through the house, and waited at the front door for Burke to catch up.
It didn’t take him long.
Like a lot of Mainers, he had a granola vibe to him. She recalled that he’d enjoyed spending his free time hiking, biking, rock-climbing, or camping. He was probably the adorable type who collected stamps from the national parks in a little “passport” booklet. No doubt he was far more fervent than she was about composting and ensuring the survival of bumblebees and earthworms.
“Your garden’s incredible.” He paused at the base of the steps that led to her landing.
“Thank you. I do all the gardening myself. Not the lawn mowing, mind you. Just the planting beds and pots.”
“It’s amazing, what you’ve done.”
“I enjoy it. Out here, I have control. I can plant what I want and make it look how I want.” It was terribly nice when work and skill paid visual dividends.
She held the door open and he entered, carrying his water bottle.
“Your house is great, too.” He followed her to the kitchen. “Even though the way you’ve decorated it is a flashing neon sign telling men they don’t belong here.”
She laughed. “Sounds like the flashing sign is saying exactly what was intended.”
The prenup she’d agreed to before marrying Felix had ensured that he retained Maple Lane, the house where they’d lived together. An impressive, masculine mansion, that estate had been in his family for generations, and she’d been fine with him keeping it. When she’d moved out, she’d swung in a completely different direction and purchased a storybook cottage. Unapologetically feminine, this house had cobblestone pathways, soft rooflines, wooden shingles, round-topped windows. She’d done the interior in cream and dreamy pastels. Though Fiona was not as white as snow, Snow Whitecouldhave lived here.
She motioned for him to pass over the bottle, filled it with purified water, and handed it back. Propping her weight against her farm sink, she slid her hands into the pockets of the gray dress she wore with hose and heels.
As their kids aged, her path had crossed less with Burke’s, though she’d still seen him socially from time to time because he and Kay were two of the people of her generation in this town that she liked. Then Burke and Kay had followed Kay’s job to Boston.
“It’s been a long time.” She spoke the perfunctory thing you had to say when you saw someone after the passage of years.
“It has been,” he agreed. “You look great.” With that, he’d voiced the second perfunctory statement.
In her case, she expected a “You look great” from just about everyone. She’d become accustomed to it now, to the point that if people failed to say it, she felt miffed because she put a lot of time, money, and effort into looking great. “You look great, too.” It was true. He’d become a bit brawny. He must be lifting some pretty heavy weight because his muscles were large for a man over the age of sixty.
It appeared they were both battling the paunch that often came with aging. Most men and women their age had surrendered to it because it was exhausting to keep fighting it as the years went on.
“Was the dinner party I hosted here the last time we saw one another?” she asked.
“Yes, and that was four years ago. I remember, because Kay and I moved to Boston soon after.”
“How is Kay?”
“She passed away two years ago.”
Fiona’s face fell. “Oh no.”
