Page 15 of Willow in the Wind

Gwen and Stella said goodbye and hung up. This left Stella in the shadows of her office, in a house that shifted uneasily in the Nantucket winds. She rubbed her chest and got up, wishing one of her children were here. But as it was a Wednesday in the middle of winter, in the middle of the afternoon, both Chloe and Logan were in school.

In fact, tonight was Logan’s basketball game against Oak Bluffs High School. Stella couldn’t wait to sit with her daughter and Matt and cheer Logan on. Matt had begun bringing his girlfriend Mandy to games, too, which was all right by Stella. Mandy had great taste in snacks and always shared. And itpleased Stella to see Matt so happy. She didn’t want her children to grow up thinking that adults couldn’t be happy after divorce.

Stella was jittery after her call with the literary agent. She had the sensation that all of her dreams were coming true. She had to go talk to someone about it.

So she grabbed her purse, donned her coat, and drove to the Sutton Book Club. Aunt Esme was the woman she needed to see.

Stella entered the Sutton Book Club to find Esme kneeling before a bookshelf, rearranging spy novels and crime thrillers. Esme worked diligently with her brows furrowed. From the speaker system came the music of Genesis. Toward the back of the Sutton Book Club stood Larry at the computer, typing away. They still hadn’t noticed Stella. It was as though they were in their own world, safely there together.

“Aunt Esme?” Stella’s voice wavered.

Esme jumped, then pressed her hand to her chest. “I didn’t hear you come in!” She clambered to her feet and came over to draw Stella into a hug. “My darling Stella. How are you? Let’s get some coffee.”

Stella followed Esme to the coffee machine, where she filled two mugs and pressed one into Stella’s hand. Esme looked at her expectantly.

“You look like you’re bursting with news,” Aunt Esme said.

Stella laughed. “Is it that obvious?” She took a breath. “A literary agent wants to represent me!”

Aunt Esme nearly dropped her coffee. She put it down and threw her arms around Stella. “Larry, did you hear that?” she called. “Stella has a literary agent!”

“That’s fantastic!” Larry hollered back.

Stella blushed and explained she hadn’t said yes, not yet. Aunt Esme nodded and agreed she was taking the right course of action. This was how it went in the publishing world.

“It’s slow as molasses,” Esme agreed. “But tell me. What did the literary agent say about your book?”

Blushing even deeper, Stella translated what Gwen said. Esme nodded along. She’d read the book three times—once in the spring of 2022, right after Stella had finished a first draft, then again in the summer of 2022, and again in autumn when Stella was pulling her hair out after months of looking for an agent.The book is great,Esme had told her in autumn.You just need to find the right agent to champion it.

“I knew you’d find someone,” Esme breathed. “This is great news.”

Stella’s eyes filled with tears that she blinked away. “I can’t believe I wrote the thing, let alone that somebody actually likes it.”

“The book is tremendously heartfelt,” Aunt Esme said. “The world will take note.”

Stella left the Sutton Book Club a little more than an hour later and walked to Nantucket High School to get there in time for Logan’s basketball game. It was snowing lightly, melting on her nose and hair, but she hardly felt the cold. All the way there, she thought about the book she’d written during the dreamy final months of 2021 and early part of 2022—a book that delved into the specifics of her very first romantic love. A romantic love that had nearly shattered her. It was the first time she’d really stared the story in the face.

The experience had been cathartic. A friend had laughed. “Most people mourn their marriage after getting divorced. But your divorce has led you to mourn your first love instead.”

Grief was a strange thing. It came in waves. Sometimes, those waves came decades later.

Stella sat in the basketball gym on a bleacher with her phone in her hand. She emailed the literary agents who still had full copies of her manuscript with the news that she’d received an offer.

Suddenly, the bleacher bowed slightly, creaking with the weight of somebody else. Stella raised her head to find Bruce Tyler opposite her. He spread a book across his thighs and adjusted his glasses, killing time before watching the game. Bruce’s son Simon often played only a few minutes a game, but Bruce was always there, rain or shine. Logan was one of the more athletic guys on the team, which meant the coach threw him in at every opportunity, even when he was exhausted.

Stella didn’t know Bruce well. They were friendly, but she hadn’t known he was a reader.

It was rare to meet readers these days. Everyone was so busy. Everyone was obsessed with their phone.

“Hi, Bruce!” Stella said. She shoved her phone into her purse, realizing she looked like one of those obsessed with their phones.

Bruce looked up from his book. “Hey there.” He didn’t close his book.

“What are you reading?”

“It’s a Knausgaard,” he explained, raising it up to show her how thick it was.

Stella was pretty sure Knausgaard had won a Pulitzer or a Nobel Prize. One of the two. But she’d never read him before. She smiled, impressed.

---