Something more happened that evening. Aiden walked in while Jacob was cooking. I see Jacob wearing an apron, holding a spatula. He turned to face Aiden. Hey, buddy, he said.
My heart leaped at the sight of Aiden with his tie askew, his hair a mess. He must’ve been coming from work. But I hid what I felt. Why? Had he come over expecting to find me alone? Was Jacob supposed to be away?
I’m interrupting something, Aiden said, looking uncomfortable. The air was charged with tension.
You’re not, Jacob says. Drink? Something you need to discuss?
No, it can wait, Aiden said. He placed a Tupperware container on the table. I was in the area, thought I would bring this back. He turned to leave. I wanted to run after him, but I stood rooted to the spot. The memory recedes into shadows, large pieces missing.
“Fifteen minutes for the squash,” Jacob says, setting the timer on the stove. “The sweet potatoes will take longer.” He empties the bag of pecans onto the cutting board and begins chopping them into smaller pieces.
“Aiden’s a good friend of yours, right?” I say, watching him work.
“Yeah, why?”
“You haven’t talked to him since we’ve been here.”
“I called him yesterday while you were walking on the beach.”
I nod, leaning back against the counter. “Should we invite him to visit? I mean, we liked doing stuff with him, right?”
He looks thoughtful, his eyes distant. Then he smiles. “Yeah, we could. I have to go back to the city next week, to check on things, remember? I’ll talk to him then.”
“Did you tell me you had to go back?” The familiar prickle of anxiety sneaks under my skin.
“You don’t remember.” The pinch of irritation returns to his voice. “I’ll have to go back now and then to keep an eye on the company. Shareholders’ meetings, board meetings.”
“Aiden didn’t work with you? He worked at your company, right?”
“He’s a manager in IT,” Jacob says. “Engineer. I gave him a job. We didn’t see each other every day.”
I’ll always be grateful to Jacob, Aiden told me. I have to be careful. I don’t want to alienate the guy. Alienate him how? And when?
“You were friends before that, right? In college?”
“Yeah, he was a brilliant scientist. Good programmer, too. We both love the outdoors.”
“We hiked together a lot. Did we dive together?”
“A couple of times.”
“In the pass?” I say.
“No, we dove in the pass only that one time.” He gives me a curious look. “Why all the questions about Aiden?”
“I remember him stopping by unannounced, that’s all.”
Jacob nods slowly. We’re quiet for a moment.
“What’s next in the recipe?” I say, taking a deep breath.
“Heat the pecans and add the magic ingredients. Coconut sugar, maple syrup, cinnamon, salt.”
“I’ll help. Should I—?”
“You go on.” He gives me his I’ve-got-this expression. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Move over, Angelina Jolie,” Jacob says, looking at me as he drives up to the Phelpses’ farm on Dream’s End Lane. “Kyra Winthrop’s in the house.”
“But where is Brad?” I say, grinning.
His face falls. “Damn. We’re history.”
“Anyway, you’re way better-looking than Brad Pitt.”
He smiles. “My name is better, too.”
Twilight spreads across the horizon in a strip of bright orange. I’m in jeans, black boots, a soft beige knit sweater, and simple silver earrings. When I emerged from the shower, Jacob had laid out these clothes on the bed for me. I’m holding the casserole in a glass baking dish warming my lap.
“Seriously, am I fancy enough?” I say. “I mean, I love the sweater you chose for me, but . . .”
“You’re perfect. What about me?” He’s a step up from casual in gray flannel trousers, black turtleneck sweater, and black shoes.
“Perfect,” I say. “Better than Brad, like I said.”
As he drives up to the garage, the sweet smell of freshly cut grass fills me with a deep ache of nostalgia. I’ve been here before, smelling the grass, gazing through the trees at the welcoming lights of the farmhouse.
As Jacob parks beside Van’s truck, Nancy comes out onto the porch, waves at us, and descends the steps, holding her fuzzy white sweater close around her. Van strides out after her in a black T-shirt and jeans, surrounded by two leaping black Labrador retrievers.
Jacob lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my wedding ring. He squeezes my hand, the way he squeezed my hand on the deck of the ferry as the island came into view. I remember now. There was no wind in the harbor. It was early summer. He took my hand and slipped a wedding band on my finger, made of hammered gold.
What’s this? I gasped in delight and bewilderment.
To replace the one you lost.
Jacob . . . Tears of joy and confusion blurred my vision. The ring was gorgeous but a little loose.
You used to be a six, he said.