Page 9 of Coral Memories

There was a brief pause before Oliver continued, “I’m a widower now, Ginger. Margaret passed two years ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Oliver.” Ginger pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the pain of that loss. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. You knew how Margaret was; she didn’t want any fuss. We had a small ceremony for our family. It comforts me to know she’s in a good place now.”

Ginger remembered Margaret. She had been quiet and introverted, though she was a sweet woman dedicated to her loved ones.

“How are you managing?” she asked, her heart aching for him.

“I’m much better now. Thanks for asking.”

They fell into an easy conversation, catching up on old friends and their paths since they’d last seen each other at Bertrand’s funeral. Ginger laughed at Oliver’s witty observations and felt a warmth she hadn’t experienced in years.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Oliver asked, “Did you ever remarry after Bertrand?”

“No, I never tried to replace him,” she replied. “There are few men like Bertrand.”

“I agree,” Oliver said. “He always said that life should be lived to the fullest. Maybe we shouldn’t close ourselves off to new possibilities.”

Curious now, she had to ask. “Have you been seeing anyone?”

“No, but I’m open to surprises,” he replied with a small chuckle.

His words resonated with her, stirring something long forgotten in her. “Life certainly has a way of doing that.”

Ginger enjoyed talking to him. His intelligence and humor were refreshing, and their shared history gave them a great deal in common to talk about.

“I shouldn’t monopolize your time,” he finally said. “I wanted to talk to you before the event and remind you not to wear black. This event is a fond celebration, not a funeral. That’s how Kurt wanted it. He told me he wanted to look down on one last festive event.”

“That sounds like Kurt. He was always the life of the party.”

Oliver cleared his throat on a husky note. “I look forward to seeing you soon.”

“As do I, Oliver,” she replied. Then, surprising herself, she added, “Feel free to call if you need help with anything.” A smile played on her lips as she hung up the phone.

Ginger sat back in her chair, recalling their past friendship with fondness. She checked her calendar and marked the date of Oliver’s event for Kurt. She would attend, she decided.

Jack arrived shortlyafter she hung up with Oliver. She answered the door with a stack of old photos in her hand.

“Visuals will help you imagine what my world was like,” Ginger said as she welcomed him. “Come with me. I’ve been sorting things on the dining room table.”

“Sure will. I appreciate that.” Jack surveyed the stack of papers and photo albums on the wooden table.

“Have a seat.” She had prepared for this meeting with a pot of his favorite Earl Grey tea, a pad of yellow sticky notes, and copies of articles she’d written years ago.

Jack slid out a chair for her before taking a seat. She smiled at his manners, pleased that Marina had chosen a partner well this time—not that Stan hadn’t been a prince of a man, too. But that Grady—what he had done to Marina still irked her. Yet, if her fiancé hadn’t acted in such a dreadful way, Marina wouldn’t have fled to Summer Beach or met Jack. Ginger loved having Marina nearby, along with her bustling cafe.

“You’re the wordsmith,” Ginger began, pouring tea for Jack. She noticed him watching her with respect. “I’ve always been driven by ideas and possibilities. Of right and wrong—although the world operates in shades of gray, I’ve discovered.”

“Thank you,” Jack said, accepting the tea. “Before we begin, I’m curious. Your biography—why now?”

“Is that Marina’s inquiry or yours?”

“Fair enough. She voiced the question, although I wondered, too.”

“First of all, you’re available. To find talent such as yourself, with your credentials, in Summer Beach is rare.” Avoiding questions of age, illness, or mortality, she added, “The time simply seemed right.”

Jack nodded at this explanation. He opened a notebook and clicked a pen. “I know you well enough to flesh out the foundational material, so we can skip those questions. The stories we share reveal our outlook, life experiences, and subsequent learnings. We’re hard-wired for stories, especially those that humanize the subject. That’s where we can start.”

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