Page 50 of The Summer We Mended
“Morning,” a low voice called out.
Lily turned, startled.A man stood at the edge of her yard, holding a tray with two steaming mugs and a small plate wrapped in a gingham cloth.He had a kind, lined face, dark hair streaked with gray and wore a faded flannel shirt over jeans and work boots dusted with dried mud.
“Sorry to sneak up on you,” he said.“Didn’t mean to startle you.I’m Tom Hadley.I just moved into the house next door.”
Lily blinked.“Oh.Hello.”
“I thought I’d introduce myself properly.Figured coffee and banana bread was safer than knocking uninvited.”
Her gaze flicked to the tray.“You brought coffee?”
“And banana bread.My sister’s recipe.She made me bring it over.Claims it wins people over better than I ever could.”
Lily stepped down off the porch, brushing dust from her jeans.“Well, your sister might be onto something.”
He handed her a mug, and their fingers brushed.She pulled back too quickly.
“Sorry,” she said, flustered.
Tom smiled.“No problem.New neighbor jitters?”
“Something like that,” Lily muttered.“I’m Lily.Lily Hartman.”
“Nice to meet you, Lily.Your place has a lot of charm.”
“It needs a lot of work,” she replied.“Charm comes later.”
He chuckled.“I get it.My place has the same issues.Leaky faucets, slanted floors, and doors that don’t quite shut right.Feels like the house is trying to whisper secrets all the time.”
Lily let out a small laugh, surprising herself.“That sounds about right.This one has seen a lot of love and laughter in it all these years.”
Tom glanced at the steps.“Mind if I sit?”
She hesitated, then nodded.“Go ahead.”
They settled on the porch steps, side by side but not too close.Lily sipped the coffee.It was strong, just the way she liked it.
“This is actually really good,” she said.
“I can’t take the credit,” Tom said.“That’s all Emily, my sister.She made me a care package before I left Boston.I think she was worried I’d fall into a hole of microwave dinners and isolation.All I did was put the K-cup in the machine and came out with coffee.”
Lily’s brow lifted.“Boston?What brings you out here?”
“Retired contractor.Spent the last couple of decades flipping houses.Got tired of the rush.Wanted to live in one long enough to watch the trees grow.”
She glanced at the mug in her hand.“That sounds nice.”
“And you?”he asked softly.“Have you lived here long?”
“Nearly forty years,” she said.“Came here on vacation with my family, met the love of my life, and never left.He was a fisherman; his family has been on the Vineyard for decades.My husband loved it.Said it felt like the kind of place where time slowed down.He was so proud of it.”
Tom tilted his head.“Was?”
Lily nodded once.“He passed.A little over a year ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Tom said.“I lost my wife six years ago.Cancer.Still feels like yesterday sometimes.”
There was a long, gentle silence.
