“I should have known.” Holly halted in front of the Impudent Oyster. “Very sneaky. How’d you get a reservation so last minute?”
“Let’s just say we have a shellfish relationship.”
She laughed. “Of course you do.”
It was different, seeing Holly out of the inn, and being out together, just the two of them. “You know, I think this is our first grownup date,” he said, once they were seated in a cozy corner.
“Is this a first date?” He wasn’t sure if she was teasing or serious—if she was emphasizing thefirstpart of things or thedatepart.
“I hope so,” he said.
“We’ve had many dates,” she reminded him. “Over many years.”
“Sure. To movie theaters and ice cream parlors, and a few bars before we went separate ways.”
“You mean before I broke up with you.” She winked. It was true. Holly had been the one to end their relationship the first time, after high school graduation and before they both left for college. She didn’t want the long distance to ruin all the good years behind them, she’d said.
“You broke my heart.”
“You joined a fraternity and had a new girlfriend by Thanksgiving.”
Ben thought back. “Christmas.”
She kicked him playfully under the table.
“Seriously, we were still kids. Even when we got back together the summer between college and me going to law school. We could never afford to go to a place like this.”
Holly groaned. “I still can’t, with everything at the inn.”
“Still. We’ve come a long way.” He reached across the table for her hand. “I’m glad we’re here.”
Holly smiled. “Me, too.”
They ordered too much food, and he was glad they did. They started with a bottle of Sancerre. There was mussels Bangkok in coconut curry. Shrimp-and-scallion-crusted local sea bass in a smoked tomato mignonette. Swordfish piccata over fresh cavatelli. Grilled summer vegetables and mesclun. They took turns taking bites and tasting and eventually swapped plates, midway through, everything was so unbelievably delicious. When their courses were cleared, the serverreturned. “I’m not a dessert person,” Holly told him, then ordered crème brûlée.
“I’m not letting you go home yet,” Ben announced when they staggered out, two hours later, bellies full and still laughing over stories they’d reminisced about.
By then the sky was dark and the lights of downtown Chatham aglow. The boutiques and galleries had closed on Main, but the sidewalks were still full of ice cream and penny candy seekers, and a lively crowd lined up outside the Squire Tavern. “They’re all college kids,” Holly resisted, when he pulled her in its direction.
“Nonsense.”
Inside, the old tavern was filled to the gills. “I haven’t been in here in years,” Holly shouted, pointing out the banged-up license plates and nautical signs still hanging on the rustic woodwork. There were the old dart boards and pool table in the back. A guitar player was setting up in the corner. “Nothing’s changed.” Holly was right about the crowd. Ben ordered a pitcher of beer and they found a small high-top tucked in a corner.
“Got to love how unpretentious this place is,” Ben said.
“I think it’s cozy,” Holly told him. They shared a beer, then another, talking about work and the ways in which Chatham had changed since they were kids. “So many of the old cottages are gone,” she said. “Especially by the beaches. They’ve been replaced with big hulking summer homes.”
“It’s why I’m glad my folks have hung on to theirs,” he agreed. “There’s something about the character of an older beach house, humble as it might be.”
And then Holly switched the subject. “It was nice, the other day,” she said, eyes narrowing playfully. “The kissing.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “It was.”
“We’ve shared some good ones over the years. But that—I don’t know. Somehow it felt different.”
Ben knew what she meant.
“I’ve been so focused on the inn, I haven’t had time for a personal life.” She ran her hands through her hair, her expression changing at the mention of work. “It’s all-consuming, and that’s the way it has to be. You know what I mean?”
