Page 85 of Summer Longing
It was no wonder she couldn’t sleep at night.
Her new products—the facial cleanser with white tea and evening primrose, the body lotion with argan and coconut oil, and the oatmeal/calendula soap—had overtaken the kitchen counter. No one in the house had mentioned the rows and rows of Glasslock containers; everyone was either too busy to use the kitchen or too polite to make a fuss. But truly, it was getting out of control.
She wanted to start giving away the products, but she couldn’t bring herself to hand them out in those plain, utilitarian containers. She’d have to order some pretty jars from one of her old packagers. Maybe something in pale blue, like the hydrangeas blooming in the front and backyards.
But even as she considered how to distribute the products, she sat at the table breaking up stalks of lavender flowers and stuffing them in a mason jar to make lavender oil, her project for the next day or two.
This is what happens when I have too much time on my hands.The biting scent of the lavender—more camphor than floral—would cling to her. She hoped Tito Barros didn’t mind the smell. They were set for a dinner date the following night.
“I see old habits die hard,” Ben said from behind her.
She was getting used to hearing the sound of his voice in the house, and it dawned on her that in all these years, she had never quite gotten used to not hearing it.
She turned around. “I thought you and Olivia were going for ice cream.”
“She’s bringing the baby, so I’m waiting for them,” Ben said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her pile of flowers. “It didn’t take you long to get back to business,” he said.
“This isn’t business. This is relaxation. A hobby.”
“Come on, Ruth. It’s me you’re talking to.”
She smiled. “And this is thenewme you’re talking to. I’m retired.”
He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “So I heard. You’re young for retirement.”
“I’m not young foranythinganymore.”
“Well, for the record, you look great.”
She felt, in that moment, like a schoolgirl. “It’s just the Provincetown light,” she said quietly.
“I was surprised you sold.”
“Oh, come on, Ben. You’re retired now too. It’s not a big deal.”
He shook his head. “It’s different. We both know that. I imagine it was a difficult decision.”
She nodded. “It was. Very. But it was the right thing to do at the time.”
“At the time?”
She shrugged.
“Don’t tell me you have seller’s remorse,” he said.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, pushing away the thought of the discontinued Cherry Hill.
“Is that why you moved out here? So you wouldn’t be tempted to jump back in the game?”
“No, that had nothing to do with it,” she said quickly. “I moved out here because it’s one of my favorite places. I’ve wanted to come back for years, but you never wanted to vacation here, and life got so busy…”
“It seems an odd choice,” he said.
“Well…” She wondered if it was worth it to say what was on her mind, then decided why not? She had never held back and there was no point starting now. “It seems odd to me that you refused, for our entire marriage, to come out here.”
“We had the Jersey Shore.”
“Ben, let’s be real. Geography had nothing to do with it.”
