“Depends.” She pointed to the Candy Manor delivery and then the bar cart. “Do you prefer sweets or wine?”
An open bottle of sauvignon and a box of chocolate fudge between them, Holly and Greta each lay on an opposing couch staring up at the bookshelves. “It really is a magical space,” Greta said.
“It’s everything I wanted it to be, minus the circular staircase.” When Greta looked confused, Holly described the old staircase and landing that had been built by the Spicers, andreplaced by her grandparents, before being torn down altogether. How she used to play in here with Ben and his brother and all their other friends, how she would hide up there, and how she wished she could go do that now.
“You and he go way back,” Greta said, popping another piece of fudge in her mouth. “May I ask what the story is there?”
“If I can ask about you and Oliver.”
Greta snorted, and they both laughed.
“The fact that I’m hungover from a night at the Squire and still sharing a bottle of wine with you pretty much sums up my story,” Holly said. She told Greta about their past, about how he’d come back, single again, this summer. About the time they’d spent together and how naturally they fell back into things. Up to last night. “It seemed we had another chance, but it turns out he has to go back to Providence.” She sighed. “He leaves this weekend.”
“And right after what you shared last night?”
Holly winced. “Indeed. Your turn.”
Greta told Holly more than she’d anticipated. It was not just Oliver and a budding relationship that had stalled out, as she’d suspected. Greta’s history involved a number of complicated male relationships, most of them quite painful, and Holly felt for her. “I know what Oliver and I shared may not seem like a big deal, but I don’t date. Oliver was my exception. I made space for him.”
“It’s always a big deal when you put your heart out there,” Holly said. “That takes bravery.”
Greta sat up. “Okay, I’ve had two glasses of wine in the afternoon and I have dinner service to get through. This may have been a bad idea.”
“You’ll be fine,” Holly said, sitting up, too. “Your new dishesare proving a hit, by the way. I say we add a few to the old menu. Assuming you’re ready to go back to the old menu?”
Greta nodded gratefully. “Thank you for trusting me with that. I needed to work through some stuff. That’s how I do it—in the kitchen.”
“I don’t question genius.”
“How about you? Are you nervous about tomorrow night?”
Holly thought about that. “I think being nervous means that whatever you’re doing matters. So yes, I am.”
The sun had moved west across the water, and it spilled into the library, dappling the walls and shelves in gold.
Holly didn’t want to put Greta on the spot, but they’d aired so much in the library that afternoon. “I know everyone is worried about their jobs right now. I overheard Josephine’s sister mention openings in another hotel. I was relieved when Josephine told her no—it was too soon to look. Do you wonder about what you’d do if you weren’t here?”
“I used to want to work in a city, in some culinary mecca, but now I don’t think so.”
“You wouldn’t go back to Sweden?”
“Not now. I feel like there’s more here for me to explore and do.” She looked at Holly. “I’m not ready to give up on the Cranberry.”
Holly knew that feeling. “The inn has certainly drawn a cast of characters for its staff, all from off the Cape and yet all determined to stay here. I’m lucky, even if I only get the summer with all of you.”
“This was nice,” Greta told her, rising and taking the bottle with her. She paused in the doorway. “Remember, summer isn’t over yet.”
Ezra
Amy called on Saturdays. It was their little tradition. It had started because Saturdays he was home from work, and when he retired they still kept the day. This week he called her, two days early.
“Dad,” Amy said, sounding surprised. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, of course.” He bristled. He did not want her to think otherwise. “So how are the boys? What have you all been up to?”
As he listened to her recounting of the week, Ezra’s mind drifted. Amy told him about the T-ball team and how everyone got a trophy, which she liked because they were so young, but she also worried might set the boys up for disappointment later. He smiled to himself, reminded of all the little things younger parents worry about: the slights at school, on the bus, on the playground. Never mind the big things, too. Oh, how Rachel had worried when Amy was growing up. Sometimes he wondered if it was because Amy was their only child. Perhaps he was lucky in his profession as a neurosurgeon. Those parents he met,whose children he got to care for, were some of the most worried people he would ever know, and for good reason. Watching a mother hold her child’s hand before sending them into the OR, not knowing what would happen behind those doors and not being able to do a darn thing about it on the other side, was a fear he saw too many times in the hospital. As hard as it was to witness, Ezra considered it a gift, too. A release from the less harrowing fear of the school bus bully, when viewed through the same lens. Perspective could be life altering.
Ezra had tried to maintain that perspective since he’d left the Cranberry House. He understood that what happened with Holly and her grandmother was between them. Just as he understood each time Holly had called since, and left not one but three messages, that he was wanted back. But theawful planhe’d started the summer with had never quite left him. He’d come back to it, as one worries a scab that covers a wound that is trying to heal. For a little time he’d thought he would heal.
