Page 67 of Seven Summer Weekends

She was happy that she avoided discussing the deeper meaning of her statement. She was not ready to decide whether to stay or sell. The words from Gicky’s letter ran through her head. The part that readI hope that the house stays in my family—and you are my family. I see you don’t have one of your very own.

Then she pushed it all aside.

“I’m sorry. When you walked in the door, you were about to say something when I so rudely interrupted.”

He jumped up, remembering his grand gesture.

“Oh shit. I ordered us dinner from the market. Get dressed. It will be here any minute!”

With that, the word “Delivery” rang out from the direction of the front door, followed by Ben’s bare ass disappearing into the bedroom.

Addison zipped up her cutoffs and answered the door to the delivery boy holding a large tinfoil tray of food.

“Rack of ribs?” he asked, panning the house behind her for more mouths to feed, no doubt.

“Yes, yes. So hungry, thank you.”

The kid walked in and placed it on the counter like he had been in the house a hundred times. He probably had. Addison realized she should tip him and searched her pockets habitually. It was useless. She hadn’t touched money since arriving on the island.

“Give me a sec to find some cash, please.”

“It’s OK,” he said, his cheeks suddenly flushed. “You don’t have any of Gicky’s scones, do you?”

For fuck’s sake, she thought, duly frustrated.

“Nope, sorry to say. I do not.”

“You know, I never even tasted scones till I met your aunt. Really, I used to only eat plain bagels before that, maybe a corn muffin if they were fresh from the oven at the market. She dared me to taste one, and now I have a very diverse palate.”

Of course the delivery boy was quirky.Just like everyone else around here, Addison thought. He continued singing Gicky’s praises.

“She was pretty cool, Gicky. But I don’t have to tell you that.”

Sadness squashed her frustration. He seemed to notice.

“Don’t worry about the tip. You’ll catch me next time. And sorry for your loss,” the kid added before leaving.

Addison shook off her emotions and called out, “The coast is clear!” while pulling two plates from the kitchen cupboard.

After dinner and a delicious bottle of merlot, Addison made a fire. She had been waiting to do so since she arrived, and the night was just cool enough to warrant one. She had also bought all the ingredients for s’mores in anticipation of the occasion.

Ben was engulfed in Gicky’s bookshelves.

“Take anything you want,” Addison encouraged. “Except for that little shelf over there with that hot Fire Island author’s books. Those stay put.”

He sat down on the floor with his back against the couch and thumbed through a collection of short stories by Gay Talese. On the inside cover it read:

With admiration and thanks, Gay

“For someone who was so humble, your aunt lived some life.”

“It seems so,” Addison agreed, before plopping down in between Ben’s knees and pushing back into his chest to admire her roaring handiwork. Ben was quiet for a beat. She tilted her head back so as to see his face.

“What?” he asked in response.

“Nothing. You’re kind of quiet, is all.”

“Just thinking.”

---