Harper blames the whole affair on the Morning Glory Farm market.
In the weeks preceding the visit to the farm, Harper had logged in a lot of hours at the hospital with Billy, back when his problems were treatable. Dr. Zimmer had been the man in charge of Billy’s medical care. He explained what was going on with Billy’s kidneys, his liver, and his heart. He went over the medications in meticulous detail with Harper. Also, he talked to her about Billy’s diet and exercise, what he was allowed to do and what he wasn’t. It was all very professional. Only once had he laid a hand on Harper’s arm and said, “He’s lucky to have a daughter like you.”
Harper had responded, “He’s been an excellent father to me my entire life. I’m the lucky one.”
When Harper bumped into Dr. Zimmer at the counter at the Morning Glory Farm market, she had recognized him but couldn’t place him. He was wearing a tight, colorful biking outfit and a helmet and wraparound sunglasses. Harper was standing at the counter, where she was about to order a Morning Glory muffin fresh out of the oven. The market was engulfed in the aroma of cinnamon, raisins, orange zest, and toasted pecans.
“Harper!” Dr. Zimmer had said. He smiled at her, and Harper thought, Wait a minute. Who is this guy? Then, an instant later, she figured it out.
“Dr. Zimmer!” She checked out his spandex; he looked like he was wearing the flag of Uganda. “I didn’t know you biked.”
Dr. Zimmer nodded at his Fuji, leaning up against a tree. “Stress-relieving hobby,” he said. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee—my treat?”
“Sure,” Harper said. “Thank you.” She rarely hung around the Morning Glory because there was too great a chance she would bump into Jude or Jude’s partner, Stella, or someone who worked for Jude. And, sadly, Harper didn’t have friends she could meet at the farm for coffee and a muffin. She occasionally brought Fish with her for companionship, but Fish always attracted attention because he was so darn good looking, and attention was precisely what Harper wanted to avoid. To sit with Dr. Zimmer was a good thing, though, she thought. Dr. Zimmer was a revered member of the community, and he would lend Harper respectability by association.
They had sat at the picnic tables under the oaks for the better part of an hour. They started out talking about Billy—Harper confessed that Billy was still smoking one cigarette a day despite the fatwa on tobacco—then they wandered off topic, experimentally at first.
Dr. Zimmer had said, “Do you have siblings? Other family?”
Harper sipped her pumpkin-flavored coffee; this was the first time it had been available since the previous fall. It was a natural question to ask, she supposed, but it put the pleasantness of the encounter at risk.
“I have an identical twin, actually. She and my mother live on Nantucket.”
Dr. Zimmer had slapped a hand down on the green painted wood of the picnic table. Like most doctors, he had beautiful hands; he didn’t wear a ring, but Harper knew he was married to the woman who owned the pie shop in Vineyard Haven. She had, at least, done that much research. “An identical twin on Nantucket?”
Harper pulled off a chunk of muffin, then opened one of her three foil-wrapped pats of butter. Normally Harper dragged the muffin through the butter, making a mess of the butter and her fingers, but that day, in the polite company of Dr. Zimmer, Harper had used a plastic knife. The muffin was already rich and moist, and adding butter was like dipping jelly beans in icing. “You wouldn’t be able to tell us apart.”
“Come on.”
“I’m serious. We look exactly alike. The teachers at our school never figured it out. Neither did our camp counselors or our friends. Our own parents. Lots of other people.”
“And she lives on Nantucket with your mother. That’s crazy, right? You and your father live here, and your identical twin and your mother live on the other island?”
“Crazy,” Harper said in agreement.
“Are you close?”
“No,” Harper said. “Our parents’ divorce drove a wedge between us, then my sister and I had a pretty serious falling-out fourteen years ago now.”
“That’s too bad,” Dr. Zimmer said.
Harper shrugged. “I talk to my mother periodically, although she’s tough. Her name is Eleanor Roxie-Frost. Have you ever heard of her?”
“No,” Reed said. “Should I have?”
“I guess not,” Harper said. “She designs dresses. She’s a pretty big deal in the fashion world, or she used to be.”
“You’re single, right?” Dr. Zimmer asked. “Are you dating anyone?”
Again, Harper shrugged. “I date here and there. I’ve never been married, no kids. Do you have kids?”
“No, no kids,” Dr. Zimmer said. “I want them; my wife doesn’t. And to be fair, when we got married I didn’t want them, either. Apparently changing one’s mind about wanting children isn’t allowed…” He let his voice drift off. “What do you do for work?” He was changing the subject. No kids with Mrs. Zimmer was a sore spot.
Harper smiled. He obviously hadn’t heard about her involvement with Joey Bowen. “I deliver packages for Rooster Express.”
The next time Harper saw Dr. Zimmer, they were back at the hospital. It was late evening, and Billy had been urinating blood. Dr. Zimmer had him admitted and told Harper she could go home for the night. He was leaving the hospital as well, and he had walked her to her car. It had been the quintessential autumn night, cool but not yet cold, the air smelling of wood smoke and leaves.
“Would you like to go get a drink?” Dr. Zimmer asked.
They went to the Brick Cellar at Atria, a place Harper liked but where she would never go alone. Reed ordered a glass of wine, and Harper followed suit, although she preferred a beer and a shot. Reed—as soon as they got out of their respective cars to go inside, he had insisted Harper call him Reed instead of Dr. Zimmer—said he was hungry, and since Harper could always eat, they ordered a grilled Caesar salad, the lobster tacos, and the peach-blueberry cobbler and shared everything. When Harper groaned over the cobbler—which was a rather orgasmic groan, because the cobbler was so good—Reed turned to her and said, “You know that’s arousing, right?”
That had been the start of things, Harper supposed. Her inadvertent food groan elicited Reed’s choice of the word arousing, which automatically gave their new friendship a sexual edge.
It had been Reed who ventured there first, not Harper.