“Don’t worry so much,” said Daisy. “I’m twenty. We’re just going to a cute caféup the block.” Daisy turned the phone to face the water.
“Oh, that view! It’s just as Pop described.” Dahlia heard the motorcycle pull in next door and froze. He was back. She was a little nervous about facing him again. She didn’t know what her body would do next.
“Mom, try to have some fun this summer. If nothing else, do it for me.”
First Kara, now Daisy. If it were only that easy to let go. As much as Dahlia wanted that too, she didn’t know the first thing about how to do it. Again, more of a Monica than a Rachel. “I’ll try, how’s that?”
“I’ll take it. Okay, gotta run, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you—” The call ended as Dahlia whispered, “Too.”
Dahlia leaned her elbows on the butcher block counter and wondered for a brief moment what her life would have looked like if she had done what Spence wanted. Some may have made a different choice than she had with a full college scholarship ahead, and Dahlia would have wholeheartedly respected that decision. But after her parents died, she’d felt anchorless, but something inside her shifted when she found out she was pregnant. What would Dahlia’s life even look like without Daisy? She was her entire world. Her heart felt sliced open by the thought. Immediately, she shook the inconceivable image from her mind. She couldn’t go there. Plus, there were more pressing matters that needed her attention.
“Okay, Lil, where should I look next? Give me a sign.” She held up her hands. Why couldn’t Lil have left all this alone? And why did she tell Noah he could use the barn? Dahlia exhaled. “You’re still not off the hook with me,” she said, looking up at the cracked wainscotting ceiling as if Lil could hear her.
Dahlia eyed the pantry door, remembering how Lil hid candy in tin cans for her and then Daisy when she was little. Of course. The key had to be in there.
After scouring every inch of the pantry to no avail and mending Lil’s damaged curtains, Dahlia was in bed by nine, just as she’d hoped. She couldn’t wait to go to sleep and was glad to be tired enough to finally do that. The daylight was almost extinct, and the moon was beginning to shine through the upstairs windows and porch. The slight waft of air was enough to make sleeping possible. She loosened the flat sheet and finally relaxed after a hard day’s work, but her mind had other ideas.
She heard a groan from the hardwood floors.
“I know, bud, it’s a little hot tonight.” She added “bring a fan up from the basement” to her mental to-do list. How did Lil sleep up here without air conditioning? Dahlia hated to admit it, but she missed her central air conditioning in Connecticut. As much as she liked the windows open, the humidity was beginning to creep its way into her Long Island summer and cramp her style.
The back of her palm rested on her forehead. She lay there, her body tired, her mind still awake. She wasn’t usually the type to wonder about someone she had just met, yet Noah Sterling had stolen her thoughts like a thief in the night. She tossed left, then right, tangling herself in the sheets. Dahlia knew it was more than just her attraction to her neighbor. It was also that she’d only ever been with Spence and one other person before.
His name was Tristan, and he was what Lil liked to call a stallion: jet black hair, green eyes, and a way with the ladies. He was newly assigned to the graveyard shift at the ambulance company. Daisy was three and spending two weeks with Gran and Lil while she worked. It was a few dates, then one drunken night before Daisy came home. It fizzled fast once he realized she had a daughter. After that, Dahlia hadn’t seen much point in dating. But Noah was another story, and she was curious.
“Curiosity killed the cat.”She couldn’t help but hear Gran’s words ring in her ears. But this was different.
Dahlia thought about him standing on her porch and how his facial hair outlined his mouth ever so perfectly. She’d never seen a cupid’s bow so perfect and lips so pink on a man. Her heart raced. She couldn’t help but think about what happened to her body when his hand touched hers in the barn and then again on the porch.
What was she doing? He couldn’t be much older than Daisy! And he was clearly not looking to date, which was good. Her mind darted to all the scenarios. Something awful must have happened to him, but what? She looked at her phone on the nightstand, tempted to google him again and find out the tea once and for all. But instead, she just stared at the willow branches shadowing the ceiling. She wasn’t that kind of person, and she didn’t care. Dahlia pressed her eyes shut, trying to convince herself of that.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. This is ridiculous,” she said, throwing on her cardigan just as the fireworks started. And with that, Harry began to howl and bark.
Dahlia was now fully awake. She poured a glass of water and headed out the back door. A hint of night-blooming jasmine drifted through the night air. Dahlia would know that intoxicatingly sweet scent anywhere. She and Lil had planted it beside the porch the summer after her parents died. It was her mother’s favorite scent. Her mind rushed to the memory. “That way, when we’re out here at night, we can feel her with us,” Lil had said with tears in her eyes.
Everywhere she looked and everything she smelled was a subtle reminder of why she loved this place as much as she did. Harry led the way to Lil’s barn. There was a familiar scent in her studio too. It was fresh cedar and must with a hint of WD-40. Dahlia inhaled the aroma as if it would take her back to the days when her pop would work on his ride-on mower and she’d poke through Lil’s stuff.
She had only passed through a few times since she arrived. This time, there was no table saw or sander going. Dahlia could hear her feet on the worn wood below; it was that silent. Lil’s botanicals covered the walls in bright hues that felt like childhood: bubblegum, sunshine, and sherbet. Her smile grew as she continued to wander. There were dried flowers that still hung from the rafters above and coffee cans that lined her shelves. What on earth, Lil? There wasn’t enough candy in the world to fill all these.
There were bins and bins of paintings. She pulled one out. It was an impressionist-style painting of lilacs in a clear vase. The purples were vivid against a robin’s egg blue background. Lil had been a talented artist. One who could have had gallery shows and made an income selling her art. It made zero sense why these paintings were in a dingy barn, hidden away. “These are too good. Right, Har?” She looked around. “Harry?”
The fireworksbangstartled her again. It sounded like gunfire right in her backyard. Then came Harry’s howling, right on cue. She followed the sound to Bruce and Garrett’s house and noticed a fire going in the pit. She hid behind the side of the barn like a sleuth.
Noah was there, sitting alone, having a beer. Well, not alone. He was canoodling with her dog, face to face, trying to calm him. “It’s okay, boy, I’ve got you,” he said while resting his head on his. It made her feel something else altogether this time; if there was a way to Dahlia’s heart, it was through her dog.
Noah cleared his throat, which made her wonder if he was upset. Her eyes narrowed, and an odd sensation of guilt rippled through her belly. Maybe she’d been too hard on him yesterday. Perhaps he genuinely needed to build and use his hands to stay sane. What was he even doing at home on a holiday weekend? He should be in the Hamptons having fun. That’s what most people his age did, after all. So far, she hadn’t googled him, but she knewshe was older, or maybe she just felt older because she had a twenty-year-old daughter.
Dahlia’s nurturing instincts kicked in, and she walked over.
“Hey,” she said, covering her braless chest with her sweater. This was becoming a habit, one she needed to break immediately if there was any hope of them having a working relationship.
“Oh, hey.” He got up. “I was wondering if you’d come by. To get your dog, I mean.” He let out a playful chuckle, one that made Dahlia want to inch closer.
Every part of her wanted to scream yes, yes, yes, but the words were stuck on her tongue.
“Want a cold beer? The view is amazing.” His tone was enticing. “You can see the Shelter Island fireworks from the cove,” he said, pointing above the water.
