By the time they returned to the house, someone had put lights on in a few of the rooms; the house looked so welcoming and unblemished that Alexa’s throat caught. The house was beautiful, yes, but more than its beauty was the fact that its coziness, its familial feeling stood in contrast to Alexa’s own lonelier home, bowing still to grief. As if specifically placed to complete the tableau, from somewhere out on the water came the soulful, haunting cry of a loon.
“That’s a yodel,” said Cam knowledgeably. “Which is different from a wail. Only the males yodel. Listen—”
Cam stepped closer to her and they leaned together against the minivan, listening. Cam intertwined his fingers with Alexa’s and, despite her worry that some of the Nashville hot sauce lingered on them, she was scared to move, almost scared to breathe, lest she destroy the moment. A loon called again.
“That was a wail,” he said. “Did you hear the difference? They’re talking to each other with the wail, regaining contact. It’s pretty amazing how they do that, make sure that they’re never lost from each other.”
“I love that,” said Alexa softly. “I really, really love that.”
She didn’t want to let go of Cam’s hand, but she said she should think about getting home. It was a long drive, and her mother would start to worry. She moved toward her Jeep, still holding on to Cam’s hand.Kiss me,she was thinking.Please, Cameron Hartwell, please kiss mebefore I leave.
And then he did kiss her; hewaskissing her. It wasn’t like the time she kissed him in his driveway at home, when she took himby surprise, and it was a one-sided thing, a show of power orchutzpah. This kissing was mutual, reciprocated and reciprocal, urgent.
“You should go,” Cam whispered, when they came up for air, and his voice was gruff and sexy. With his thumb he traced her cheekbone. “Before I do something I might regret.”
“Go ahead and do it,” she said. “I dare you.” She pressed against him—she couldn’t help it; her body led her mind. Cam rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms, gently but firmly, like he was warming her after some chill, although even without the glow of the sun the air was perfectly temperate.
“Don’t tempt me,” he said. “We have the rest of the summer.” He opened her driver’s-side door and said, “I’ll see you soon.” He kissed her twice more, once on the forehead and once on the nose, and those types of kisses could have seemed avuncular but actually they were sexy too. She climbed behind the wheel, and he stood in the driveway as she executed a three-point turn and departed, leaving behind something as glimmering and hopeful as a promise.
47.
Sherri
On this particular day Sherri was not on the schedule at Derma-You so she was able to drop Katie at theater camp herself. After Katie hopped out of the car without so much as a by-your-leave, Sherri saw Rebecca’s white Acura—a mirror of her own—three cars behind her in line. As she was pulling out of the turnaround, a text came into her phone.Pull over when you leave. Sherri did as she was told, and Rebecca drove up alongside her and lowered her window. Sherri pressed the button to lower the window on the passenger side, and Rebecca said, “Let’s have lunch later.”
Sherri hesitated. She’d been spending so much money lately. Katie’s summer camps, rent, groceries. Gobs and gobs of ice cream. She hadn’t sat down and made herself a real budget. She still had to find a pediatrician for Katie, and a dentist. Possibly dance classes, if she could afford them.
“My treat,” said Rebecca.
“Oh no,” said Sherri, embarrassed that her thoughts might be transparent. “That’s really not necessary. I was just trying to figure out if I had time.”
“I insist. You’re new to town and you haven’t seen all the good places yet. Consider me an ambassador of Newburyport. And anyway, it would be a favor to me. I could use someone to talk to. We’ll go to Michael’s Harborside. Have you been to Michael’s yet?” No,Sherri had not been to Michael’s. “I’ll pick you up at noon. No, eleven-thirty. We’ll have a better chance of snagging a table on the deck that way.”
They got the last open seat on the deck, which overlooked the Merrimack River; across the river, they could see the town of Salisbury, and the deck of another restaurant (which was actually called the Deck). There were boats everywhere: boats docked just below them, boats docked across the river, boats docked to the left and to the right, boats moving and boats tied up. Sherri had never seen so many boats in her life. She thought of the pontoon ride and cringed.
When the waitress—an adorable college-aged girl with a messy bun and a really good tan—came to take their drinks order, Sherri asked for an iced tea.
“Two,” said Rebecca. Then: “Actually. You know what? Plot twist. I’ll have a sangrita.” Sherri looked at the menu; the sangrita was sangria mixed with tequila.“She’ll have one too,” added Rebecca, pointing at Sherri. “Forget the iced teas.”
By the time their food arrived—a lobster roll for Sherri, fish and chips for Rebecca—their drinks were half gone. Sherri’s lobster roll was delectable; it was served on a grilled hot dog bun, in what Sherri understood was the New England way, without too much mayo. Rebecca popped a fry into her mouth and when she was done chewing she said, “So here’s the thing. I’ve been seeing someone.”
“Youhave?” said Sherri. “That’s—exciting?”
“Confusing,” said Rebecca. “But also exciting.” She took another slug of her sangrita. Already she was faintly flushed. “I’m telling you because—well, because I want to tell someone. And so far I haven’t told anyone, not a single soul. I’ve had to keep it very much under wraps.Verymuch.”
“None of your friends?” said Sherri, feeling flattered. “Not Melanie or Brooke or Gina or anyone?”
“No.Especiallynot Gina.” Rebecca leaned over her fish and chips platter. She looked furtively around her. “Daniel and I just had a fight about this. Our first real fight! He’s tired of sneaking around, acting like we’re doing something wrong. But obviously, I can’t tell Gina.”
This wasn’t obvious to Sherri. “Why not?”
“Because,” said Rebecca. “Because it turns out that Gina’s husband Steve’s sister, Veronica, used to be married to Daniel! A long time ago. She cheated on him, and then she left him. She wasnotgood to him. Veronica the Cheater.” She sat back, took a bite of her fish and looked at Sherri expectantly.
“It seems convoluted,” said Sherri. The sangrita had diluted some of her politeness. “Why does that mean you can’t tell anyone?”
“It’s not that convoluted. Gina is still close to Veronica the Cheater. I used to be really close with Gina. Then came the sleeping bag incident that I told you about at the beach.”
“Oh, right. I remember.”
