“You don’t need to make any decisions about this today,” Camille continues. “I can’t give the job to you, of course. You’ll have to apply and go through the interviewing process. Having the board on your side would be advantageous, which means you need more face time with them. Say yes to this, Diana.”
If Camille had presented this suggestion before—when Tom was still alive—Diana would have immediately declined, Tom’s career demands taking priority over hers.
It hits her like a clap of thunder on a spectacularly sunny day: She is different. Losing Tom, being on her own, learning he kept secrets from her—all that has changed her. She wantsmore. She’s not sure what thatmoremight be, but she lets that idea linger.
“Diana?”
“If my parents can watch the kids, I’ll come.”
“Excellent. Ask your mom.”
“Come on, don’t you have better things to do? Like oversee the library? Check on the staff? Do literally anything else?”
“No, actually, I do not.”
Diana fishes her phone out of her bag and texts her mother.Library fundraiser next Friday night. Any chance kids can stay with you and Dad?
“Done,” she says, holding out her phone to Camille.
“Good,nowI can go run the library,” Camille says, turning to leave.
Diana’s phone buzzes.Yes, of course. We’ll make it a sleepover.
Camille stops, her hand on the doorframe. “And?”
“She said yes, so I will be your wingman. Or is it wingwoman? Whatever it is, I’ll be there,” Diana says, though she fears attending the Spring Fling will be a mistake.
Camille gives her a thumbs-up and disappears out the door, the sound of her silver bracelets ringing behind her.
Once she’s alone, Diana removes the lid from her coffee and licks the cappuccino’s foam. She hadn’t anticipated this conversation withCamille, but it’s intriguing. She’ll have to give the idea of being library director more thought.
As for the Spring Fling, the last time Diana attended was two years ago, with Tom. She remembers him asking why the event was scheduled for outside in April, when the probability of a winter chill or a blizzard was a reality. “Wouldn’t a hotel be smarter?” he said, as he knotted his tie in front of the bedroom mirror.
Diana was in the bathroom applying her makeup, trying for the third time to give herself a smoky eye that didn’t look like she’d been punched in the face. “I’ve asked about moving it to June, even September. When I do, I’m told that it wouldn’t be the Spring Fling and what people want is theSpring Fling.”
They hadn’t yet known he was sick; that would come the following month, like a torpedo stealthily making its way through the cold, dark ocean to its target.
The rest of the night comes to her in bursts of memory: Tom spinning her across the dance floor; kissing him against the leafless maple tree across from Alcott Pond on their walk home; the tree branch that left a large purple bruise on her lower back; and Tom’s fingers holding her chin as he whispered, “I want you.” His voice was urgent and demanding, and they ran home, her feet slipping in her high heels, their hands clasped together. They left their clothes in a pile by the front door, and after, they fell asleep on the floor of the living room, a scratchy blanket from the back of the sofa thrown hastily over them, Tom’s arm under her shoulder, the other across her waist.
Five months later, he was dead.
Diana stands up and walks across the room to the windows. She presses her fingers against the glass, watching people stroll along the sidewalk below. She needs to look at something else, something real. She focuses on a budding forsythia bush in front of the post office until the memories of that night fade.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Duncan lopes down the stairs clad in a Red Sox sweatshirt and jeans. “I’m ready,” he says to Diana and her father as he stuffs his feet into his sneakers, laces untied.
“We’re going to pick up Evan and Noah and head into Fenway,” Francis says. “We should make it in time for the first pitch.”
Diana couldn’t have dreamed there was more her already hands-on father could do for her kids, but once Francis heard about the call from Duncan’s basketball coach, he managed to find new ways to be involved. Over the past week, he helped Duncan with his history project on the electoral college, taught him how to fix the dishwasher, and planned this night out at the Red Sox game. It’s been good for both of them.
As they drive away, Diana remains on the threshold, scanning the street for strangers and inhaling the lush scent of early spring. Around her, the neighborhood settles into evening. She hears Lakshmi and Ramesh talking through an open window, neighborhood kids yelling to one another on the playground across the street, and a dog barking off in the distance.
She remembers the time she chaperoned Duncan’s fourth-grade field trip to the Museum of Science. At the reptile exhibit, they learned how snakes shed their skins, leaving the old one behind, slithering off into the sun as a new version of themselves. Diana recognizes a change is up ahead: her own new skin. Ever since she returned from Vermont, she’s felt different, as if looking into Tom’s past has shiftedthe direction of her future. This excites her, this unexplored possibility. It scares her, too.
When she hears Phoebe call her name, Diana reluctantly closes the door and returns to the kitchen, where preparations for a girls-only Family Dinner are underway. Her daughter balances on a stool, watching Vivian make pesto. Phoebe’s cheek is healing nicely, the angry red scrape fading each day.
Diana pours apple juice and uncorks a bottle of chenin blanc, looking up when she hears the front door open. “A stealthy arrival. I didn’t hear your car.”
