Page 21 of Willow in the Wind

Stella kissed him and took a sip. Bubbles cascaded across her tongue.

A moment of silence passed between them. Stella’s heart pounded. These silences had been happening more and more lately. It was often difficult to figure out what was going on in Bruce’s head. He was quiet. He didn’t often show his hand.

“I meant to tell you,” Stella said, breaking through the quiet. “Aunt Esme has agreed to host my book launch at the Sutton Book Club.”

Bruce smiled. “Of course she did. She couldn’t say no to that.”

“But it’s really the perfect spot for it. It’s where Aunt Esme urged me to take up writing in the first place,” Stella explained. “It feels like it’s meant to be.”

“You’ll ask your cousin to cater the event?” Bruce asked.

“If she’s up for it,” Stella said, thinking of Rebecca, who’d returned to Nantucket after her husband’s death.

In fact, Rebecca wasn’t the only Sutton who’d returned to Nantucket. Uncle Victor, Bethany, and Valerie were all back, too—facing the ghosts of their past. It was rumored they’d come because Esme’s husband Larry had died and left her alone. Stella had done what she could for Esme, cooking her meals to put in the freezer and sitting with her at the Sutton Book Club. But Esme was heartbroken.

Stella had never lost a great love to death before. She couldn’t fathom it. Sometimes, it terrified her so much—the fact that she’d let herself fall for someone again.

Although she and Bruce hadn’t said, they loved each other. Not yet.

It’s better to take things slow.

Bruce and Stella enjoyed a picnic on the water, listening to the radio, eating strawberries and sandwiches, and finishing another glass of champagne. Stella had plans that evening with her children, and Bruce had also mentioned getting back for something. Stella assumed it was work-related. She was never entirely clear on what he did for money. But he seemed to make a lot of it and was well-respected. That was enough for her.

Just before Bruce unleashed the sails to take them back to the harbor, Stella got a text from Gwen with a final photograph of the book, newly printed from the publisher.

GWEN: Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?

Stella’s heart broke at the cover. After some back-and-forth with the publisher, they’d agreed on a turquoise-blue cover with the outline of a woman, a man, and a Greek village behind them. It was sensational. Gwen had already said she thought it would “jump off the shelves.”

Stella watched Bruce take them home, his capable, strong hands moving like powerful birds as he worked the sails.

It reminded her of one of the chapters of her memoir. When she closed her eyes, it was like she was right back there on the Aegean Sea, twenty-one years old, her legs long and tanned, her arms open to the variables of whatever came next.

Bruce hadn’t yet read the memoir.

But sometimes, it terrified her to think of him reading it.

What would he say? Would he say,You don’t love me as much as you loved him?

She worried it was obvious.

She worried that the enormous feelings in her memoir wouldn’t translate to the rest of her life.

She worried the memoir made the rest of her life seem hollow.

“What are you thinking about?” Bruce asked as he skidded them against the dock and secured the ropes.

Stella got up and laced her arms around his waist. She kissed him. “I’m thinking about how happy I am.”

Because she was happy. She really was.

Bruce’s eyes were distant again. She tried to peer deeply into them and make sense of what he was thinking.

“You ready to go?” Bruce asked.

Stella put on her dress, grabbed her bag, and walked with Bruce down the docks. Tourists and Nantucket locals milled along the boardwalk, eating ice cream cones, adjusting baseball caps, and talking about their evenings ahead. There were dinner reservations. There were parties at mansions. There were weddings to prepare for.

Nantucket was awash in celebration. It was summertime.

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