Secrets in Summer

Darcy laughed. “Oh, fabulous, Nash, you’ve pegged it exactly.”


They talked more about the chorus, spinning off in tangents to trade gossip about some of the women or their families. They talked for over an hour. Darcy slid down on the sofa. Muffler jumped up beside her hip and fell asleep. Darcy came down from her concert high and began to feel sleepy. She had to work to keep her eyes open. But she didn’t want this conversation to end. When they finally said goodbye, she found herself smiling, even as she brushed her teeth, even as she curled up in bed.



The next day, in the professional space of her office, Darcy forced herself to do something she’d known she had to do. She had asked Willow for Autumn’s phone number, because maybe it was all too unconventional, Darcy spending time with her ex-husband’s stepdaughter. Willow was a child. Autumn was her mother. Darcy should make arrangements with Autumn, or at least bring her into the mix.

She called Autumn.

“Yes?” Autumn’s voice was sweet and clear.

Darcy plunged right in. “Autumn, this is Darcy Cotterill. I’m calling about Willow, and I apologize for not calling you sooner, but you know we’ve asked her to help with story time at the library. I hope that’s okay with you. I know I should have checked with you first—”

Autumn interrupted with a silvery peal of laughter. “About helping with story time in the library? Are you kidding me? Honestly, Darcy, I should pay you. I’m delighted you’re keeping Willow busy.”

“She should be with kids her own age—”

“Forget that. The girl’s too shy, plus look at the loser she met on the island. Already, bad instincts in the male department. Frankly, Darcy, Willow’s had a tough time lately. She’s trying to pull away from me and I totally get that. She’s good at home, but here she can’t seem to get a grip. You’re just the role model she needs, and what could be better than keeping her occupied at a library?” Another burst of laughter came over the phone.

Fine, Darcy thought, let Autumn think librarians were chaste and boring. “Also, I don’t know if Willow mentioned that our neighbor Mimi Rush has asked Willow to read to her in the evenings, and—”

“I know. Willow told me. I mean, what more could I ask? The library and an old lady?”

“Well, we might do something some evening. Go out for dinner or for a drive or something. I want you to know you’re welcome to join us—”

“Oh, you’re so sweet—you don’t want me to feel left out. Listen, I think it’s good for Willow to have her own group, even if it is old people. I don’t think she’d enjoy having me butt in. Honestly, I think it’s great how you’re being nice to Willow.”

“Okay, that’s good.”

“Great. Listen, I’ve got to go now. Thanks for calling.”

The weird thing, Darcy thought as she said goodbye and ended the call, was how much Autumn reminded Darcy of her mother. That same good-natured carelessness. The same rushing speed through life, or at least through their phone call, because Autumn didn’t have much time for discussions about her daughter.

The main thing was that Darcy had made contact with Autumn. She had, in an informal kind of way, gotten permission from Willow’s mother to have Willow be at the library for part of the day. Autumn had made it crystal clear that she wanted nothing to do with Darcy and Mimi. A snarky thought snaked through her mind. She could have said, “I know you enjoy spending time with some of your neighbors, like Otto Brueckner.” But she hadn’t said that, and she was glad. It would have made Autumn think Darcy was even more boring than she already did.





13


And then the heat hit. Humidity rose, and the outdoors became a sauna. The library was air-conditioned, but Darcy’s house wasn’t. The summers she’d spent with Penny when she was younger had never been so hot they’d needed air-conditioning. Just a fan in the kitchen when they were cooking or baking. Darcy could close her eyes and remember the low, soothing hum of the fan as it oscillated left and right in unchanging rhythm.

Out in her garden in the evening, beneath the shade of the neighbor’s old maple, it was tolerable, and by night it was even pleasant. But as much as she enjoyed her garden, she had to eat, dress, and sleep inside her house, so she broke down and bought two window air conditioners and phoned Nash to ask him to install them.

“I’ll bribe you with drinks and dinner,” she added.

“Hm. That might not be quite enough,” he teased.

She played dumb. “Ah. Let me see. What else can I offer?”

“I’ll show you when I get there,” he said.

“I’ll be ready.”

She was smiling when they ended their conversation. His easy bantering woke her brain. It absolutely woke her body.

Nash arrived straight from work. It was almost eight o’clock, and he was in his work clothes—jeans, T-shirt, work boots. His sandy hair had sawdust in it. His white T-shirt was dirty and stained in places, but the thin material showed off his muscular torso quite nicely.

“Well, hello, sailor,” Darcy said as he came in the door. She threw her arms around his neck and raised her mouth to kiss him, but to her surprise, he drew back.

“Let me get a shower first, Darcy. I’m all sweaty.”

“Just the way I like you,” she purred, pressing against him. What was it about his odor that was so sexy? It drew her to him like a moth to a flame.

He put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “First, air conditioners, next shower. Then we’ll see what happens.”

But installing the air conditioners nearly put her over the top. She held the door open while he carried the air conditioners in from the car, moving effortlessly. She followed him up the stairs to her room, unable to ignore the way his muscles bulged in his shoulders and arms, and the long lean line of his back.

He set the air conditioner on the floor. “Which window?”

She’d already studied the situation and decided. The room had two windows facing the street and one facing the narrow lane between her house and the Brueckner’s.

“There,” she said, pointing to a front window. “Can I help?”

“No need.” He raised the window and the screen, lifted the air conditioner into place, lowered the window, and screwed the plastic accordion flaps to the window frame.

“For a lawyer, you really know how to screw,” she joked.

To her surprise, Nash’s face shut down.

“We’re not going there,” he said.

“What?” For a moment, she couldn’t imagine what he meant.

“I’m not a lawyer anymore.”

“But you could be if you wanted to?” she queried.

“I don’t want to. And I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”

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