Page 26 of Seven Summer Weekends

“That’s so sad, poor thing,” Addison said.

“You should put the other one aside and start it tomorrow. You won’t believe it,” Jessie added.

Addison shook her head in agreement. Katie ordered themthree vodka sodas with lime, and loaded nachos, while Jessie headed for the bathroom. She returned looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“What did you do?” Katie asked.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Jessie said, smirking.

With that, Addison saw her neighbor walking toward them.

“Ugh. Hide me,” she warned her new “friends.” “My neighbor Ben is coming over here. He’s awful. Total tool,” she added, in what she thought was their language.

Katie looked that way and covered her face with her hands.

“Oh my God, Jessie, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. You haven’t stopped saying what you would do if you ever got ahold of Benjamin Morse in person. Well, here he comes. I sent him a drink—from you!”

Katie turned ten shades of crimson, bent her head under the table, and ran a wand of gloss over her lips. Addison’s lips, on the other hand, remained agape.

“I thought that guy’s name was Ben Silver? Is Benjamin Morse a pen name?”

“I don’t think so—but you can ask,” Jessie suggested.

A million contradictory emotions careened through her brain like a game of emotional pinball.

Anger, betrayal, sympathy, empathy, confusion, and embarrassment.

Embarrassment won. She was mortified by just about everything she remembered saying to this poor widowed guy on the beach:I’m surprised the women aren’t flocking to you…. I would think you would have landed a keeper by now.That thought was replaced by an image of Ben, not Shep, as she had previouslyimagined, blocking the bulldozer from destroying her street like some kind of lovelorn tree hugger from Greenpeace.

Ben was Benjamin Morse. The banter about the book now made sense too. Had she insulted his writing as well?

Ben Morse. Flirt. Neighbor. Author. Widower.

Kill me, she thought as she watched her neighbor walk their way.

Ben Morse seemed like he couldn’t care less about any of their unfortunate interactions. He smiled, motioned for her to shove over, and slid beside her in the tight booth as if they were actual friends. She could feel his leg grazing hers and practically hugged the wall to avoid it.

“I thought your last name was Silver,” she quietly blurted, adding, “Your garbage cans say Silver!”

“So do my beach chairs. If it ain’t broke!”

Addison looked confused. He clarified, “I bought my house from Shep Silver a dozen years ago—along with those cans. They’re sturdy and snap closed. You should invest in a couple.”

“First time on Fire Island?” he asked her two houseguests, clearly eager to steer away from the garbage can incident.

“It is!” Katie gushed. “We took a quarter share in Westhampton this summer, but have never been out here, so thought we would compare the two.”

“Here summer is a noun. Out there it’s a verb.”

Addison laughed at Ben’s highbrow joke, but her houseguests looked confused by it.

“We spend the summer on Fire Island,” he explained. “They summer in the Hamptons.”

Jessie and Katie laughed now too. It was just the kind of witty observation that made him a bestselling author.

Katie brazenly put her hands on top of Ben’s and got right down to business. “I’m so sorry about your wife.” She may have had a tear in her eye. He pressed his lips together as if holding back laughter at her dramatics, which made Addison do the same.

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