A breeze blew over the water, unexpectedly cool, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Lana had gone down the steps and out to where the grass jutted over the water. She stretched her arms over her head, as she had that day at the Egg, then held them there, hands clasped.
“She’s going to miss you,” Ben observed. He was looking at her as well.
“You think?”
“Yup. No way you’d know this, but female friends aren’t exactly her strong suit.” He bent over the guitar, his hair falling across his face. “You made it look easy, though.”
“I just let her boss me around,” I pointed out.
“I think there’s more to it than that,” he said. “Anyway, I’m bummed you’re going too. You weren’t even here long enough to use any of that toothpaste.”
I sighed. “Much less put it in a cabinet.”
“At least we have our shared memories,” he told me. “Oh, and when you’re talking about them, be sure to make me sound super confident and more attractive. I mean, if it’s not too hard.”
In truth, I liked him just the way he was. But this felt like too much to say out loud. “I’ll do my best,” I told him instead.
“Good.” He smiled. “And look… whatever happens when you get home, with the breakup, at least… I hope it’s what you want.”
“Thanks.” I sighed. “Although honestly, I’m not even sure what that is right now.”
“Finley?”
I turned: My mom was in the doorway. “Yeah?”
“Can you come inside?”
I looked at Ben, still bent over the guitar. “Sure. I’ll be there in a sec.”
I didn’t go right away. At first, I was again only watching him play, focused on the movement of his hands. Then, though, the notes arranged themselves into something I recognized. It was a Dolly Parton song I’d heard at the Egg, about clear blue mornings and things turning out okay. Not the biggest detail or deal. Still, it was nice to know one thing for sure.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ready?”
I looked over at my mom, who had just fastened her seat belt. The clock in front of me on the dashboard said 7:31. “Ready.”
She started the car. The plasticky-new smell and spotless interior were a stark change from the Woods, which began to grow smaller in my side mirror as we pulled away.
Just as we stopped at the mailbox, I saw a Tides van pull up to the front of the Egg.
By the time we’d crossed the road and pulled into a space, at least ten people had disembarked. Cardoon, again in uniform, stood by the door, motioning them inside.
“It’s crowded,” my mom observed. “Should we go somewhere else?”
Before I could answer, Lana appeared on the sidewalk with an armful of menus. “How many?”
“Twenty total,” Cardoon told her. “Four parties. One’s a six-top, FYI.”
She handed him the menus. “You know what to do.”
He gave her a jaunty salute just as two cars pulled in. Atthis rate, Lana’s prediction would be proven out: It was already busier than the last time.
“I’ll go order,” I told my mom.
“Are you sure?” she asked, eyeing the growing line. “We really don’t have—”
I was out of the car before she could finish, turning sideways at the door to squeeze past Cardoon and two women in tennis whites who were fanning themselves with menus.
