“Okay,” I say to Thomas, because I’m too tipsy and exhausted to argue.
“What you saw the other night with Josie wasn’t what it looked like. The truth is, she’s been helping me out these last few weeks.”
A blue jay lands in the tree behind his back, where he seems to be holding something out of view. Absurdly, I wonder if the bird is Lottie in reincarnated form, checking in on us. The thought makes me both incredibly happy and deliriously sad.
Thomas continues. “I reached out to her a few days after the wedding, when I ran into your family here in the garden. I knew I had to get out of Rose’s way, but I also didn’t want to leave the island entirely, especially with the progress we’re making on the new company.
“Her family has been helping me find a place.” He smiles sheepishly. “And, well, it worked! They found me an incredible property on the water in Madaket. The owner agreed to sell it fully furnished. We closed today. I’ve just come back from the office to sign. I’ll be out of here after next weekend, but don’t worry, the rest of the lease has been paid in full.”
I want to feel shocked, but my capacity for shock has been drained. Instead, I feel stunned: numb and dumb. The garden spins.
“So at Rose and Crown you were…?”
“Just celebrating,” says Thomas. “But I also told her about my history with Rose. I probably shouldn’t have, since it’s Rose’s story to tell, but you must forgive me that it just slipped out. I ended up telling her the full story—Josie can be quite persuasive, you know—and she wanted to help me out. She told me about the private practice Rose is working to start. The other night at Rose and Crown, that’s what we were talking about.”
Of course, I think to myself. It was all a misunderstanding, but I’ve gone and ruined any chance of their happiness by once again intervening and telling Rose what I saw.
When will the mistakes stop?
“You were just talking about Rose?” I repeat, making myself process the sentiment. “You were just doing business.”
“Well, that. And I’ve been working on this and wanted to show her.” He pulls something large and vaguely rectangle-shaped from behind his back.
As he steps closer, I get a better view and realize that it’s actually two objects. Both are large pieces of polished wood with lettering that was carved into them and then painted gold. The smaller of the two reads “Lottie’s Way.” The other is still unfinished. It has a blank spot in the center, but underneath it are the words “Psychotherapy Practice.”
“I figured Rose would need one of these once she signs the lease Josie was talking about,” he says with a shy, endearing smile. “I left the name blank for now.”
Something twists in my chest. “And the other one?”
“I noticed ‘name the cottage’ was on Lottie’s bucket list and I figured I’d give it a try. No pressure if you don’t like it, of course. I got carried away at the shop.”
I think about William and how he would prefer if Rose didn’t work at all. Their incompatibility is obvious. I know my mom—I know Rose better than anyone else on this planet. And I know William is not her person, but there’s a chance Thomas might be.
“Did you hand carve these yourself?” I ask, awed. I walk over to run my hand along the smooth wood. It looks professional.
“I’ve been practicing at a workshop downtown,” he says, still looking slightly embarrassed. “New hobby.”
My fingers trace Lottie’s name. It’s such a kind gesture, and the truth is, I love it. It’s the perfect name, the one we’ve been looking for this entire time. But Thomas doesn’t know that the woman he is honoring is the same woman who kept him and Rose apart.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him. “But I’m not sure my mom is too happy with Lottie right now.”
To my surprise, Thomas says, “I know. Your grandfather told me what happened at lunch.” He laughs. “He’s quite the talker, too.”
“And you’re not mad?” I’m confused by the even expression on his face.
He sets the quarterboards down and sits next to me on the bench. “I’ve known this whole time,” he admits. “Your great-aunt wrote to me after your parents split up. She wanted to know if it was too late. She admitted everything, explaining how she persuaded Rose against the engagement. But by that point, I was already with my wife. We kept missing each other.
“There’s something else,” Thomas says. “I found these inside a compartment within Lottie’s bookcase.”
He hands me two large yellow envelopes, surprisingly heavy. Lottie’s unmistakable handwriting is on the top. I notice my hands are trembling when I take them from him.
“Did you read them?” I ask. I look down at the envelopes in my lap as if they are religious artifacts.
“No,” he says. “I figured they were meant for you and Rose to find.”
“If you knew all along that Lottie was the one standing between you and Rose all those years ago, then why did you suggest naming the cottage after her?”
Thomas looks at me intently. His eyes are intelligent and kind. “Just because someone made a mistake, doesn’t make them a bad person. Lottie was a wonderful woman. That one action doesn’t define her.”
