Page 112 of Summer Longing
“Ben, you should know I told Olivia to stay here, not to go back to New York to start that company.”
He didn’t seem pleased with her announcement. “Ruth, it’s understandable that you want to make up for lost time, but the summer can’t last forever.”
“It has nothing to do with the summer or wanting to spend more time with her. I believe she should give her relationship with Marco a chance. I told her that if I could do it all over again, I’d do it differently.”
“Ruth, that’s not true,” Ben said.
“It is,” she said, her voice breaking. “It is true.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“Do you remember,” Ben said, “the night about a year ago when we ran into each other at Scarpetta?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She’d been lukewarm on her date to begin with, but after seeing Ben it was all over.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you the rest of the night,” he said. “I was with a perfectly nice woman, and in that moment, I realized I would never feel about her the way I’d felt about you, so what was the point?”
Ruth’s heart began to beat fast. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.
“Why would I?” he said.
“Because maybe I was feeling that exact same way that night.”
It had been a mistake to walk away from the marriage.
“Ruth,” he said. “You divorced me. I’m no longer angry about that. But at the same time, I don’t live in the past. What’s done is done.”
She stepped forward and, under the setting Provincetown sun, reached her arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed her back, and for a moment, it was the summer of 1978 and they were on a boat anchored just off Long Point. And then he pulled away.
“What was that?” he said.
“That was history repeating itself,” she said.
Chapter Forty-Eight
It felt very important to Elise that Fern meet Cynthia’s father tonight, at the party. It would be a seamless, informal way to move this whole process forward. Whatever Fern was waiting for, whatever change of heart had created the dramatic shift in strategy and timeline, Elise was hitting the reset button.
The problem was that she couldn’t find Fern anywhere. She walked inside, checked the crowd lingering around the buffet table, and then back to the sandy stretch near the bar. It was hard to maneuver the stroller in the crowded spaces.
Lidia Barros peeked under the hood. “What a face on that child,” Lidia said. “Like an angel. And all that dark hair. Jaci was the same way.”
“I should just park her upstairs for a while to sleep but I won’t hear her if she wakes up,” Elise said.
“I’ll help you keep an eye on her,” Lidia said.
Elise was distracted by the abrupt cessation of the jazz music that had played throughout the evening. She turned to the sound of loud clanging. “Oh, what is my crazy sister-in-law up to now?” Lidia muttered.
Bianca Barros stood on the picnic table, a dark vision in a black waistcoat dress, a top hat, and her face painted with a black, red, and white sugar skull. She was more Day of the Dead than Mardi Gras, but that probably surprised no one. She banged a metal utensil against a glass.
“Attention, everyone—I’d like to make a toast,” she said. “This is my fortieth Carnival, and some of you have been here since that first auspicious celebration, a Day in Rio. There have been many inspiring themes over the years. I think a lot of us remember Broadway Musicals, Heroes and Villains—”
“Peace, Love, and Go-Go Boots!” someone shouted.
Bianca nodded. “But I think this year tops them all—Mardi Gras by the Sea. Mardi Gras, as I learned in researching costumes, is also known as Shrove Tuesday, andshrovemeans ‘confess.’ Confess! What a fitting notion for the end of the summer—especially this summer.”
Was Elise imagining things or was Bianca directing her kohl-rimmed, spooky-eyed gaze straight at her?
“In the spirit of unmasking, I’d like to invite confessions right here, right now, tonight. Any volunteers?” The crowd broke into a murmur. A few people clapped. Encouraged, Bianca walked to the edge of the picnic table. She pointed her finger, and now Elise knew she was not imagining it. Bianca was pointing at her.
