That was the thing about being stubborn and terrible at goodbyes. You could never really admit you needed to say it. And you were never ready.
Phoebe got into her car and looked at the time. Per usual, she was late. The boys had a T-ball game, and she was meeting them there with Rob. Jane and Edward were going. As were Olivia, Luci, and Jake, who had just gotten his cast off. She started the car and allowed herself a final look at the front door.
A long time ago, when she was applying to colleges, her father had given her advice. At the time she was headstrong and eager to leave her small town of Lenox so she could elbow her way out into the big exciting world. Where exactly she was going didn’t really matter to her at the time, as long as she escaped. Edward had cautioned her. “Never run away from something, Phoebe,” he’d said. “Wait until you have something to runto.”
As she rolled down the driveway one last time, Phoebe did not look in the rearview mirror. Not even once. She wasn’t running away, she was learning to let go. And besides, right now she had everything to run to. And they were waiting for her at the ball field.
Perry
Perry knocked for the second time and stood outside the door, waiting. Why was it no one ever seemed to monitor the door when they were hosting a party? He checked his watch. He was on time. At least for another minute.
He was about to knock again when the door swung open. “Perry!” It was Olivia, and she was in one of those wildly patterned dresses she was so fond of. He blinked. “Come in, come in! The others are out back.”
She led him through the cozy stone foyer and the living room. The house was like he’d expected: toys and books and food and kids and music. Loud and colorful, kind of like her dress. But he was a guest, and she was now family, so he supposed he needed to get used to it.
The sliding glass doors to the back lawn were wide open. Beyond them, there was a lot going on for his taste: groups of people he did not recognize talking and laughing, the smell of spicy barbecued food that was sure to set off his stomach, and one oversized hairy dog.
But as he looked more carefully around the yard, which probably could have benefited from a good mowing for the occasion, his gaze fell upon a few faces he recognized. Emmawas playing with a group of children with that boy, Sully, from camp. Perry didn’t exactly love seeing Sully spending so much time with his daughter, but what he did love was the look on Emma’s face. She was back to her old self, but better. Happier. And if it meant putting up with Sully on occasion, Perry supposed he could muddle through. From the corner of the yard came a whoop of laughter, and his gaze landed on Phoebe and Jake, whose heads were bent together in some sort of private joke. At that moment Jake looked up and saw him. If there was any hesitation, Perry could not tell, because his little brother headed straight for him.
Jake’s limp had not receded, something that pained Perry every time he saw his brother. Jake, who did not like to sit still, who was lithe and quick and graceful, now carried a distinct hitch to his long stride. But true to form, his smile remained in its place. “Perry. You made it.” He clapped his big brother on the back before embracing him.
“It’s a good house,” Perry said, offering him a bottle of wine. Jake thanked him and dropped it into a cooler of indiscriminate beers, not bothering to take notice that Perry had just handed him another fine Shiraz, this time from a boutique vintner out of New Zealand. No matter. If someone opened it, Perry hoped they would enjoy it.
“Have you seen the view?”
Perry followed Jake to the far edge of the yard, where their parents conversed. The house was perched on a steep hillside, in a heavily wooded family community known as Deer Run Shores. But if you cocked your head and squinted, through the trees there was a slim glimmer of Candlewood Lake blue. Perry nodded in appreciation. “Congratulations,” he said.
It had been one month since Jake and Olivia had marriedand moved in. The wedding had been a simple affair at Ben and Marge’s house, with drinks and appetizers in the garden. It was the same day that Jake and Olivia announced the purchase of the new house. Perry had been flummoxed.
“It’s wonderful news,” he’d told his little brother. And he’d meant it. “But how?” Jake’s job at the nature center paid the bills, but would not have afforded them much beyond.
“Did you hear? Olivia’s piece that was featured in Ben’s show last month? It sold. And she’s been commissioned for another.”
Perry had not heard. Once again, this family who never seemed to stop talking about mundane details still managed to skip all the important ones. “Congratulations,” Perry said.
“It’s not a lot. But combined with my salary, it was enough for a deposit. The place is pretty small. But it’ll be ours.”
Now, standing in the backyard at the official housewarming party, Perry was pleasantly surprised. The place was very small. And much in need of updates. But it was bright like Olivia and felt friendly like Jake. Jake got Perry a beer, and excused himself to greet other guests. To Perry’s joy, one of those others was Amelia. “Hi, honey. Don’t you look handsome in your seersucker jacket.” She pecked him on the cheek. It was then he noticed she, too, had brought a bottle of wine.
“Thank you. Wait, which bottle is that?” he asked. “I already brought one.”
“Oh.” Like him, Amelia coveted the wines they imported from their travels, and as such they reserved gifting bottles only for the closest of family and friends. One bottle was generous. Two was just plain crazy. She lowered her voice. “I can put this one back in the car.”
“No, no,” Perry said, slipping his arm around her waist. “It’s all right.”
“You sure?”
For a long time, Perry had not been sure of much. After the accident and the leaked photo of his daughter’s first, but probably not last, bad choice, he had come to question everything he’d so firmly believed. That careful forecasting and prudence could secure them a safe station in the world. That crises could be managed. After that summer, those ideologies had been reduced to ash. But in the months since, as the smoke cleared, Perry had been unable to escape the notion of risk. And people’s differing tolerance for it. Some avoided it like grim death. Others possessed an appetite for it; some, insatiable. Perry wondered at all his family had grappled with that summer. Sometimes the people you loved risked too much. To his surprise, he had been one of them.
For all he thought he knew about being a family man, his daughter had shown him there was much still to figure out. In the end, the very things he had strove for were not what he needed. Boats could be replaced. Docks could be repaired. Loyalties lost, however, could not. Perry had withdrawn as president of Candlewood Cove. He waited until they reinstituted Emma’s camp counselor position, if only under pressure, and then he canceled the family’s membership in full. He did not need to belong, at least not to the Club. What he needed he already had with his wife and daughter. And yes, his family, however unreasonable they could be. They still needed him, after all. And, as it turned out, it went both ways.
Still, it surprised him, the things that people willingly risked: Money. Marriage. Security. As such, Perry still subscribed to a healthy diet of skepticism, and caution still whispered in his ear. But how lovely, for a change, to scan a horizon for stars instead of danger. To race full-tilt down a dock on a summer day and jump into the lake. To put yourself out there, if only a little further, each day.
Perry still did not like parties and big crowds. And his family was stillso much themselves. As he stood at the edge of Jake and Olivia’s yard watching his wife and daughter mingle, he was nudged roughly in the thigh. When he looked down, he found himself staring into inquiring brown eyes. “Well, hello, Buster.”
“He likes you.”
Perry spun around to find Luci staring up at him with that strange and knowing look. She smiled—the same way she had on the Metro-North train that day, and again, in the hospital, when he’d read her the story about the mouse. But never before had she spoken to him. Was Luci’s talking a new thing? Warily, he glanced around. “Buster likes me, does he?”
