She’s wearing linen.
Nina texted back:
The end times are upon us.
Jordan got out of the driver’s seat, carrying a bottle of wine and a small wrapped package. He wore jeans and a faded blue shirt.
He shook Greg’s hand on the porch, and within three minutes, they were talking about the table Jordan was building, and Greg was asking about wood. Jordan was explaining the reclaimed church beams from Georgetown, and Claire watched her husband lean forward in his chair with genuine interest.
Sam arrived at noon.
He parked on the road because the driveway was full. He walked up the path to Nina’s house carrying flowers for Nina and a separate, smaller bunch for Elena. He’d learned over the last few mont of very careful courtship that Elena was the gatekeeper, and the gatekeeper needed her own offering.
Elena accepted the flowers like a queen and then inspected the bouquet, smelling it. She looked at Sam over the top of the stems.
“You remembered I like gardenias,” she said.
“You did mention it.”
“I mentioned it once.”
“I was listening.”
Elena looked at him for a long moment and then nodded.
Sam found Nina in the kitchen. He kissed her on the cheek the way he did everything, gently.
“Happy birthday.”
“Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for inviting me.”
He looked around the kitchen. It was overflowing with food, and then there was the cake from Greg, the white napkins in a pile, and the napkin they’d all signed a year ago framed on the wall.
He’d heard the story of the pact. He’d heard all the stories over dinners and phone calls and long walks through his garden on James Island, but he’d never seen the napkin.
He walked over and looked at it.
“So this is it, the famous napkin.”
“That’s it.”
“It’s smaller than I imagined.”
“The biggest things usually are.”
He looked at her, and Nina thought about David looking at the marsh through that same kitchen window and saying, this is it.
She thought that maybe a person could have more than one this is it in a lifetime.
Maybe the first one didn’t cancel out the second, and the second one didn’t dishonor the first.
Maybe a life was big enough for two of them.
The party was everything a birthday dinner should be, loud and messy.
There were no place settings, no color-coordinated napkins, no Pinterest Mason jars. People sat where they wanted, ate what they wanted, and spilled things everywhere without any apology.
