Page 18 of Trick of Light

Maxine’s smile widened. “I thought I would never get through this crowd. It’s crazy down here.”

Rod laughed nervously. “I shouldn’t have suggested this coffee shop. It’s right in the middle of the chaos. I wasn’t thinking.”

“But it’s beautiful down here. I don’t come to the Historic District enough.”

“You live in Siasconset?”

“I do,” Maxine said, tucking her unruly red curls behind her ears.

Rod turned to press open the coffee shop door, which activated a bell. A barista hurried behind the counter to take their orders—a latte for Rod and a matcha for Maxine. Rod had never had a matcha and studied the curious foamy green drink as Maxine made easy small talk. She seemed like the sort of woman who breezed through life, whom everyone liked. And she was certainly attractive.

Rod told himself to stay in the moment. As they headed for a corner table, he forced himself to ask her questions about her work and life on the island.

“I’m a tourism specialist,” she explained.

“You’re the person to blame for all these crowds, then?” Rod teased.

Maxine laughed. “I suppose so. But to be honest with you, I love my job. I bring people from all over the world to Nantucket to experience our unique beauty. You know, I’m not from here originally. I was born in Ohio. I know firsthand how wildly different Nantucket is from anywhere else. The first time I came here as a teenager, I thought—this is it. It’s paradise.”

Rod’s heart opened. He loved when people spoke so eloquently about Nantucket.

Briefly, Rod told Maxine about the past three years of his life. “I never thought college was in the cards for me. I had my daughter at a young age, and she always came first. But now that she’s grown up with a child of her own, I figured it was time to do something for me.”

“That must have been something. Did you have classes with twentysomethings?”

“There were even a few eighteen-year-olds in one of my classes,” Rod remembered. “They called me Grandpa, but we mostly got along.”

Maxine cackled. “That’s rude!”

“They were funny,” Rod admitted. “They were always rolling into class late, hungover or wearing pajamas. I wanted to tell them how important these years were and not to take them for granted. But I knew that would fall on deaf ears.”

“It’s a blessing to go to school later. You know how important it is.”

“I felt exactly that way,” Rod said.

He was so swept up in the conversation that he let his latte get cold. He smiled inwardly, thanking his lucky stars that Samantha had forced him out on a date. Perhaps this was the next era of his life. First school, then romance.

After the coffee shop closed, Maxine suggested they walk around the Historic District. Her eyes were alight, and Rod sensed that neither wanted the date to end. Rod bubbled with expectation. Once, as Maxine studied a dress in a shop window, he allowed himself to imagine a future where they went on vacation and did things like this—walking, talking, drinking coffee, shopping. He imagined taking her hand.

And then, Maxine said, “Wait! Isn’t that the Sutton Book Club?”

Rod followed her gaze down the street to find the familiar library and community center, which now housed a brand-new restaurant. A lump formed in his throat.

“Yeah. It is.”

Maxine touched his shoulder. “I’ve heard insane things about the new restaurant.”

Rod smiled nervously.

“Maybe this is too forward,” Maxine continued, “but are you hungry? I know it’s our first blind date or whatever. But I’ve been dying to try that restaurant. Are you game?”

Rod switched his weight from foot to foot and searched his mind for a way out of this. Maxine’s smile began to fade at his silence, and Rod’s hands felt clammy.

“Okay. Sure,” Rod said finally. “I could eat.”

Rod followed Maxine into the Sutton Book Club as his head swam with memories. He was a teenager again, listening to the Sutton sisters giggle in the next room as he browsed through the books. He was foolish and gangly. He knew nothing.

The restaurant was held upstairs, where Esme Sutton traditionally held her veteran dinner nights. Now, garlic, oregano, and thyme filled the air, the sound of sizzling skillets and clanking tools came from the back kitchen, and Nantucket tourists and residents sat over nourishing platters, smiling as they exchanged stories and dined. A hostess approached to seat them at a two-person table near the window. Rod felt like he was in a dream.

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