22. The Summer Day

Falling in love, Sharon thinks, is even better in her fifties than it was in her twenties. Sharon and Romeo are adults. They don’t have to worry about first-time home ownership or raising kids or establishing careers. They have learned how to be present and enjoy a moment.

Romeo loves making romantic gestures. He appears at Sharon’s house with bouquets from the wildflower truck on Main Street; he brings Sharon a bunch of fresh mint from his garden and teaches her how to make mojitos. He picks Sharon up in his truck and they drive out to 40th Pole to watch the sunset with a bottle of wine, two sandwiches from Walters, and an ’80s playlist. Once it’s dark, they make out in the front seat like a couple of teenagers.

Sharon’s twins, Sterling and Colby, are surprisingly supportive of their mother’s new relationship. Sterling helps Sharon pick her outfits; Colby does her makeup.

“You look hot, Mom,” they say. “You’re a queen.”

Of all the kids, Robert is the most enamored with Romeo. Robert and Romeo watch MrBeast videos together, laughing their heads off, and Romeo plays Fortnite with Robert. (How does he know how to do this? Sharon wonders. It seems as esoteric to her as playing the bagpipes.) Romeo even gives Robert a driving lesson on the sandy roads that crisscross the moors behind Sharon’s house.

As July unfolds, Sharon and Romeo spend more and more time together—soon it’s every night except Fridays. Sharon reserves Fridays for her children, and Romeo catches up with his buddies at the Anglers’ Club. Taking one night apart feels healthy and normal—they’re each maintaining their own lives!—and it also makes them crazy to see each other. One Saturday, they go to the movies at the Dreamland and have dinner at the Boarding House bar. After dinner they stroll on Main Street, stopping to listen to a guitar player, then an a cappella group; they peek in the window of Stephanie’s, where Sharon sees a pair of shoes she likes, and they linger outside Fisher Real Estate and gawk at the picturesque estates in Shawkemo and Quaise. Do they imagine buying a home together? Sharon admits that it has crossed her mind. She’ll get the house on North Pasture Lane in the divorce but she has agreed to let Walker use the house for two weeks of the summer (when she made this concession, she’d imagined herself on one of the Mediterranean cruises Heather has since advised her to avoid). Romeo owns a cute saltbox on Hooper Farm Road that has a nice lawn he keeps mowed; there’s a basement apartment he rents out to servers from the Lobster Trap. Maybe next summer when Walker is in residence, Sharon will move in with Romeo.

She pulls him away from the real estate listings; she’s getting ahead of herself.

They pass the Gaslight, where there’s already a line forming; they can hear the strains of live music spilling out the open windows.

“Should we go in for a nightcap?” Romeo asks. “Maybe dance a little?”

Sharon has never been to the Gaslight, mostly because she’s worried she’ll feel like everyone’s mother. “Let’s save it for another night. I’m kind of tired.”

Will Romeo think she’s an old fuddy-duddy or that she lacks spontaneity? No. He pulls her close. “The sooner I can crawl into bed with you,” he says, “the better.”

On Wednesdays, Romeo gets off work at noon, and one day—is it already the seventeenth of July?—Sharon invites him to meet her at the Field and Oar Club for lunch. He hesitates, then says, “I won’t be dressed for it,” but Sharon tells him to bring a change of clothes to work; the club is just around the corner, he can walk.

“I want to show you off,” she says.

“If you want to get lunch on the water,” he says, “let’s go to the Brant Point Grill.”

“Don’t be silly,” she says. “The club is much nicer.” What she means is that the club is private and exclusive—and it’s only after Romeo sets foot in the foyer that she realizes he might be intimidated by this. When they take their table for two on the patio, Sharon feels like all conversations pause for one brief second. Maybe that’s because Diane, the piano player, is between songs. Sharon pretends not to notice, though she supposes Romeo’s presence is a big deal—this is the first time Sharon has brought a date to the club.

Diane, maybe as a wink, launches into “Changes” by David Bowie.

“Let’s order a drink,” Sharon says.

Once they sip on a couple of mind erasers—a Field and Oar specialty—Romeo visibly relaxes. He’s dressed perfectly, in a forest-green polo and khaki shorts and the driving moccasins he calls his “fancy shoes.” He’s much more appealing than the other men at the club, all of whom seem a bit effete in their pink oxfords and needlepoint belts, their tidy tennis whites, their painfully close shaves. Sharon could stare at Romeo all day; his profile belongs on a coin. His hair curls up at the collar of his shirt, and there’s just a touch of gray around his ears. When he puts on his reading glasses to peruse the menu, Sharon nearly dissolves into a puddle.

Romeo orders the steak sandwich with onion rings and Sharon the Cobb salad. While they’re at it, they order another round of mind erasers. The first one has made Sharon feel like she’s a soap bubble floating across the club’s impeccable lawn toward the harbor.

This bubble, however, threatens to pop when Busy Ambrose approaches the table.

“Sharon!” Busy says. “I see you’ve brought… a guest.”

Well, yes, Sharon thinks. That’s the only reason Busy would come over. If Sharon is alone or with the kids, Busy ignores her.

“Busy, you remember Romeo,” Sharon says. “It’s his first time to the club.”

“I imagine it would be,” Busy says. “He’s a very lucky man, finding someone like you, Sharon. Very lucky indeed.”

Does Busy not realize Romeo is sitting right there? Any slight is intentional; Busy knows better.

“I’m the one who’s lucky!” Sharon says.

Busy waves a dismissive hand. “The summer I turned seventeen, I had a steamy romance with one of the short-order cooks who worked at the snack bar here. My parents were distraught about it, of course, but they needn’t have worried. It was over the second we said goodbye at the ferry on Labor Day.” She turns to Romeo. “You work at the ferry, don’t you?”

Romeo leans back in his chair and graces Busy with his gorgeous smile. “I do, thank you for remembering.”

Busy’s expression is one of bland amusement, as though a child has spoken. “Sharon,” she says, “we have our membership committee meeting on August fourteenth. I’ll send a reminder to your email.”

“Mmm,” Sharon says. “I think I have a commitment that day. I’ll check and let you know.” She pulls off a frosty tone but Busy will know she’s bluffing. Sharon wouldn’t dare miss the annual membership committee meeting.

“I’ll see you there,” Busy says, “if not before at one of the Richardsons’ magnificent soirées. You seem to be on their permanent guest list.”

“Yes,” Sharon says. “Romeo and I are both on their list.”

“Ta, then,” Busy says. “Good to see you, Roman.”

“Romeo,” Sharon says, but Busy has moved on to her next victim. Sharon takes Romeo’s hand. “She’s awful. I’m sorry.” She feels like an ass for suggesting lunch at the club.

But Romeo seems unbothered; in fact, he looks amused. He leans in, brings his mouth to Sharon’s ear, which sends a thrill right through her. “Subaru Legacy, New York plate BUSY-B,” he whispers. “She’s on the standby list back to the mainland September second, but I have a feeling she’s not going to make it on the ferry that day. Or the next day, or the day after that, poor thing. She might be very inconvenienced.”

Forget the Cobb salad, Sharon thinks. She wants to take Romeo home and eat him for lunch!

On Wednesday afternoon after Leslee leaves for her pickleball game, Kacy comes over to Triple Eight to hang with Coco on the beach. Bull is in his study working; Coco has her cell phone in case he needs anything, but he’s more self-sufficient than Leslee. Leslee can’t seem to change the toilet paper roll or toast a piece of sourdough without Coco’s help.

Kacy loves the private beach. The sand is clean and groomed with a sprinkling of pebbles and shells at the waterline. Two chaises rest side by side, swathed in Turkish cotton towels; between the chairs is a cooler table. Coco lifts the top and pulls out two ice-cold seltzers.

Coco is reading A Separate Peace by John Knowles. “The real tragedy of this book,” she tells Kacy, “is that there isn’t a single woman in it.” Kacy is paging through Vogue when, unfortunately, she sees an ad for Grand Soir, the perfume Isla wears, and this immediately dampens her mood. She and Isla haven’t texted since the Fourth of July, when Isla messaged her at midnight with Let us be lovers, we’ll marry our fortunes together, the first line of “America” by Simon and Garfunkel. It brought back memories of rainy Tuesday nights, the two of them lying in Kacy’s bed, indulging their shared love of ’70s soft rock. But when Kacy checked Rondo’s Instagram, she saw a picture of Isla and Rondo with Dr. Dunne and his wife, Totally Tami, on a roof-deck in Nob Hill where they were watching the fireworks.

Kacy responded to the text by sending the selfie of herself and Coco aboard Hedonism, and Isla sent back a one-tear crying emoji. But more than two weeks have passed and there’s been nothing else—no texts from Isla, no posts on Rondo’s Instagram.

Kacy is tempted to reach out now—the ad for Grand Soir feels like a sign—but then she hears a motor and looks up to see Lamont puttering in from Hedonism in the dinghy. Kacy isn’t sure where things stand between Coco and Lamont, but once Lamont pulls up on shore, he ambles over, grinning.

“Look at you two, living your best lives,” he says.

“Take our picture,” Kacy says, holding out her phone.

Coco and Kacy hoist their drinks and Lamont snaps a few photos.

“Thanks,” Kacy says. “Why don’t you join us?”

“I’m going home to check on my mom,” he says. “You ladies have fun.”

“We will,” Kacy says. When he’s out of earshot, she turns to Coco. “He’s so wholesome. That’s exotic.”

“He likes spending time with his mother,” Coco says. “That’s exotic.”

They’ve reached the point in their friendship where they can enjoy a companionable silence, and Kacy feels herself drifting off to la-la land until Coco says, “Can I ask you a question?”