“Well, I wrapped it back up in the tissue paper, put it in the envelope—”
“And then back inside the box, and the other box,” I continue for him.
“Exactly, and then I took that box and put it in a slightly bigger box.”
“No, you didn’t,” I say, unable to control my laughter.
“And then I stuck it in a safe-deposit box in the bank that I pay ten dollars a month for.”
“Seriously?”
He nods. “And then one day, when the time is right, I will go to my safe-deposit box and pull out the box, and then the other box, and then the last box, and then the envelope, unwrap the tissue paper, hold up the recipe card, and present it to whoever becomes my wife. And when she asks what it is, I will pat her gently on the shoulder and say, ‘Please make this for me, I have no idea what chutney is.’”
My laugh carries through the empty living space. “You are so ridiculous.”
“Devin and Darnell are married?” I ask in utter shock.
“Yup,” he says. “And they have five kids.”
“Five?” My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “I can remember when Devin wanted nothing to do with babysitting because she hated kids so much, and now she has five? With Darnell? Her sworn archnemesis?” I shake my head. “I don’t think I can believe that.”
“It was hard for the rest of us to grasp as well, because right before they presented themselves as a couple, they were seen in the corner market, throwing flour at each other.”
“Oh, I remember Grandma Louise telling me about that. She said it was the great white cloud that never settled. Took Martin at the corner market weeks to clean up.”
“I think if you go in there, you can still see some of the flour in the air.”
I roll paint along the wall, loving how this room is brightening up so much. “And now with five kids, unbelievable. Were you at the wedding?”
“Everyone was at the wedding—it was hard to miss. It was as if they were trying to prove a point, so they did it on the steps of the municipal building and had it cast out to the town by speakers.”
“That’s a bit obnoxious.”
“No, obnoxious was Devin and Darnell riding in a white carriage pulled by horses and shouting to the rooftops that they were married while empty beer cans trailed behind them. Thankfully, they moved closer to Pottsmouth, so we don’t see them very much around here.”
“But the flour is still there.” I smirk at him, and he smirks back.
“Yup, we will forever remember the flour.”
“Can I ask you something?” I say as I finish up rolling the last wall.
“Yes,” he says while he stands on a ladder above me, cutting the edge of the ceiling.
“Why did you go to Boston?”
He pauses and glances down at me. “So, I see the funny stories are done—just jumping right into the hard stuff?”
I shrug. “Might as well. I was always curious, and I guess if we’re going to live in the same town, we might as well get everything off our chests.”
“That’s fair.” He climbs down the stairs and then takes a seat on the stepladder rung. “Well, after I broke your heart and treated you like crap—”
“Glad you see it like that.”
“I always have, Nola,” he says, his eyes full of sincerity. “I know how much I hurt you, and it’s my biggest regret.” He glances down at his hands. “But I wasn’t mature enough for you. It’s not an excuse, it’s a fact. You had dreams; I had ... well, I had my dad’s hardware store. When you left, I thought that maybe if I proved to myself that I could be something else, something better for you, then I could beg for your forgiveness. So, I went to Boston, where I took woodworking classes for a year, and after a year, I knew I wasn’t cut out for the city. I wasn’t cut out for a grown-up relationship, for that matter. The maturity wasn’t there. But if there was onething I knew for sure after being in Boston, it’s that I was meant to stay in Bright Harbor, and that’s when I decided to fully let you go. I knew we were headed in opposite directions, and if I tried to follow, I’d be miserable. And that’s not fair to you.”
“Oh,” I say softly, as the truth hits me. I never realized that’s how he felt. “You could have told me that, Caleb.”
“And risk having you stay when clearly you were supposed to go and explore the world?” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have done that. You deserved more.”
