Page 109 of Summer After Summer

“A great idea, Sophie,” I say. “Thank you.”

A waiter bustles around us, pouring us all a glass of white wine to go with our first appetizer of white fish carpaccio with jalapeño and locally pressed olive oil. “All the ingredients are local,” James says. “And seasonal if possible. That fish was caught this morning, as was all of the seafood.”

“And the beef was slaughtered yesterday,” Fred says, lifting his glass, amused.

James gives a belly laugh, and the two grin at each other.

Fred is happier now, his gloom from the house tour and bus ride lifted. He has an easy way with James, I’ve noticed, and I wonder if he was the one that James saved out there in the ocean.

“How have you not been here before?” I ask Fred, taking a sip from my glass and sighing in pleasure. The wine is excellent—light, effervescent, refreshing. I could drink a whole bottle, but I remind myself that there are four more glasses coming, which is about three past my normal limit and certainly way past my limit for day drinking.

“I kept meaning to.”

“I was about to disown him,” James says at his elbow. “Can you blame me, Olivia?”

“Not at all. If it were me, you’d have trouble keeping me away.”

“You’re welcome any time.”

“Thank you.”

“And maybe you can convince Fred to make it more than a yearly visit?”

“Oh, I …” I feel a blush creeping up my cheek as I take a longer drink from my flute.

“You’re bugging the wrong woman,” Sophie says, a catch in her voice. “Lucy’s the one who has to remind him.”

A shadow passes over Fred’s face.

“Whoever can persuade Fred is a friend of mine,” James says lightly. “Now, taste your food and tell me, is it divine?”

We obey, picking up our forks and trying the delicate fish. It melts in my mouth. “It’s fantastic, James. Thank you so much for this.”

“It’s only the beginning.” He flits off to the other table, his cane clacking on the floor.

“He’s great,” I say to Fred.

“I agree.”

“Was it you he saved?”

“It was. A stupid training accident.”

“I’m glad.”

His features soften, but then Ann says something to him, and he turns away. I eat the rest of my food in silence while Sophie chatters away next to me, intent on keeping me from speaking to Fred. I want to tell her to relax, that he’s safe for Lucy, if he’s interested, but there’s no point when Sophie gets this way. Instead, I guide her gently toward real estate, and over the next course of salad and a delicate sauvignon blanc, she tells me that she and Colin are in a fight over whether to buy something or wait.

“He wants to see if he gets a new job first.”

“That seems reasonable. And the money hasn’t even been transferred yet.” I try the delicate greens and strawberries. I’m not a salad fan, having had to eat too much of it in training, but this one is fantastic. “When is that supposed to happen?”

“End of August, I think, on the same day as the transfer.”

So, I’m stuck here until then. Or I could leave and come back. I’m not sure why it’s so hard to make the decision, only every time I think about leaving, I feel so incredibly sad. It’s going to be harder than I thought, saying goodbye to Taylor House for good.

“Charlotte didn’t tell me the date.”

“Me neither, but I dragged the information out of Ann.”

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