The Boys & Girls of Summer

[JackHemingway]

Maple Reef Island

Christopher Connelly was a third-generation islander on Maple Reef Island and was proud of it. Rough, rugged, blue-collar, and a sinner, you know, the standard guy in any working-class town. It was a poor man's Nantucket to the yachting class and summer residents, but to all the blue-collar kids lucky enough to be born on the island, it was paradise. Tall, beautiful maple trees to harvest, plenty of good fishing, and always work if you have a strong back. It wasn't an easy life, but it was hell for those who returned to crowded cities. Still, those summer visitors were essential to the island's economy and, all over, weren't sobs.

Chris discovered that the summer, a few months after his birthday, he started to officially work at the C&C Boatyard established by his grandfather and his partner Matthew Cox. His mother, a hard-working nurse at the small local hospital, had been leaving him there during the day since he was eight, but it was his first year as an employee. The work was hard, but Chris was outside doing all kinds of work typically only trusted to adults. Dirty, sunburned, and smelling like diesel fuel, he was like all the other kids working for their families, and Ava walked in looking like an angel.

Ava's father owned three boats beside the yacht. He had moored at the yacht club and was setting up a maintenance contract with Chris's grandfather. Ava was wandering around the docks, taking in the beautiful day. Her gorgeous auburn hair was in a messy bun. She wore designer sandals, jeans, a belly shirt, and sunglasses. She had a perfect tan, and her nails were done. She looked like she'd just walked out of a suntan lotion ad as she danced and bounced around the docks.

Ava seemed thrilled to find they had a glass Coke bottle vending machine. Despite not knowing the trick, she put in her money and got two ice-cold cola bottles. Ava giggled, and her first impulse was to offer it to Chris, who was working on a storage box nearby. He remembered nodding, saying thank you, and blushing when she complimented the shark tattoo on his left forearm. He related the story about how he caught the tiny monster while working a local boat, and they kept talking until her father was yelling for her almost an hour later.

Long before cell phones, Ava scribbled her number down on a piece of paper and told him it was her line and to call any time he wanted. Chris received the cheers of the yard workers and a warning from his grandfather not to upset the summer girl. Chris figured they would only talk a few times and hang out for the summer because that usually happens with the rich kids who come to the island. Dating an island kid was the same as any other relationship you had; it was for the summer and would be forgotten until the following season.

Island boys were good enough to hire but not to date your daughter. The thing was, Ava never cared for that way of thinking. She and Chris spent the first of more than a few magical summers together, going to the beach, the small boardwalk, and even fishing. He would ride his bike to the phone booth in the yard and call her almost every night to say goodnight to her, and walking together always meant holding hands. When September did roll around, it was a painful, tearful goodbye and a few cards and letters throughout the year. His replies didn't get through, but every summer, Ava was back.

As the years went on, they added activities, and Chris and Ava had pizza and beer together, had beach bonfires, and even crewed a few boat races together. Ava's parents didn't change their attitudes, but he did an excellent job on their boats, and Ava's mom saw Chris as another of the girl's island friends. They never got how much she loved it on the island and how severe the pair were in their relationship, and they had plans for the future, but then, one summer, Ava didn't return.

Chris missed her and thought of visiting her and pleading with her to come back to the island, but one night, after more than a few drinks at Brew Pizza, it sunk in. Ava was a summer girl, and he was just a boy that she loved for a few months and went back to her life, and finally, she'd moved on. It was about time he did the same, and it wasn't like she was the only girl, so he packed up a lot of photos, letters, and other keepsakes and stored them all in the attic.

After that, there was always another load of fish to catch, another boat to be fixed, and many nights with friends at the Brew Pizza. Chris was hardly a monk and had fun with plenty of summer girls. A few locals tried to hook him, but he stayed single for whatever reason, even as friends married and had kids. Chris was happy being an uncle and coming home to the sounds of the waves and his dogs. He had tattoos, good memories, and at least had outgrown bar fights.

It was a cold fall morning, and he was under the hood of an old, reliable pickup, preparing the engine for the winter season, when he heard a few of his workers gossiping as they smoked and drank their coffee. Something was going over at the Nautical Nest. There was a flurry of activity as tradespeople were called to work, and lights were on again. The place had sat vacant for years with no sign of life but for a few caretakers checking over the place even in the summer months.

Chris just shook his head and reached for a wrench. It didn't mean a damn thing. If anything, they were selling the place and couldn't be bothered to return. Ava was probably married to some rich guy, doing ballet in Europe and living in a castle. Besides, she didn't come back for anyone's wedding or babies being born, so she certainly wouldn't be coming to see her boyfriend from high school, whom you never even called to say goodbye to. The problem was, if it didn't matter, why was it bothering him?

 

[QuirkyQuill]

“The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.” -Isak Dinesen

A small, sad smile spread over Ava Weatherford’s lips as she ran her fingers over the aged index card, the quote written in her loopy handwriting that she favored as a teenager. The quote had been her grandmother’s favorite, and Ava remembered hearing it every time she joined them on Maple Reef Island. Even as a little girl, when her grandmother would sit, perched on the porch swing, gently rocking back and forth as the salty air wrapped around them, Ava always felt like her grandmother had a way of brightening the world around them. A vivid memory crossed her mind of her, at age fifteen, sobbing into her grandmother’s chest on the front porch of the beach house because her boyfriend had broken up with her the day before the Weatherfords left Rhode Island for the summer. As was true for most teenage girls, Ava had felt like her entire life was coming to an end. As her grandmother rocked her gently, paper thin fingers patting her shoulder, she gently murmured, “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.”

It was all the advice she offered, choosing to listen to Ava’s hysterics, but the quote had the desired effect. Ava nodded, sniffling and sitting up straighter, determined to pull herself back together.

She’d written the quote down on an index card after her grandmother passed away, a vigil taped to her mirror, reminding her that when she was on the island, everything was easier to handle. Setting it to the side, an older Ava continued to sift through the box of mementos that had been packed up well over a decade ago. Now in her early thirties, and feeling a little adrift, she found comfort in those words. They were like an old friend who had never been forgotten, but held more meaning in the dusty old attic of the enormous house in which she currently sat.

Ava had been going through boxes in the dimly lit space for two hours, and even though she had cracked open the few round porthole windows to allow the cooler fall air in, she was beginning to feel the stifling effects of her environment. Placing the lid on the old shoe box, she grabbed a few more that had her name scribbled on them, each containing photos, notes, and other trinkets from her teenage and early adult years. She could finish going through the other boxes on the front porch. Standing up, stretched her back, pushing herself up almost on her toes to loosen up her muscles.

She walked like a trained dancer, her movements graceful, her toes always turned out just a little, years of standing in dance positions evident to anyone who recognized the tell-tale signs. As she moved back through the house, her face took on an unimpressed look as her eyes roamed the old familiar space. Marble as far as the eyes could see, cold and impersonal, always struck Ava as counterintuitive of going to the beach. Beach houses, in her opinion, should be warm and light, a space that made someone feel relaxed and cozy. The Nest had always felt impersonal to her, stark, and she’d made efforts to make her bedroom feel different. Much to her mother’s chagrin, Ava had always insisted on bright colors, a reflection of her bubbly personality.

Her Nokia rang the moment she stepped out on the front porch, and she shivered as the colder wind cut through her leggings and long sleeved shirt. Setting the boxes down on the swing, her face scrunched up with reluctance as the ringtone, a clip from Carabosse’s theme from Swan Lake, forewarned her that her mother was calling. She was grateful that her mother had never paid too close attention to the ballets that Ava performed in, or ballet in general, or she would have picked up on the fact that her daughter had chosen a villain’s theme for her ringtone. Since Rose Weatherford never called her daughter when she was within earshot, it remained Ava’s little secret. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath before answering.

“Hi, mom.” With her face still screwed up in a disgruntled expression that would have made teenager Ava very proud, her voice came out perfectly pleasant.

“Oh, Ava! Good. Can you hear me all right? I never can quite tell with those new phones.” Her mother’s polished New Englander accent came through clearly, as it always did.

“I can hear you just fine, mom. What can I do for you?” Absentmindedly, Ava moved into first position, slowly sliding her pointed out to one side before bringing it back in and doing the same with the other.

“I wanted to make sure that you remembered to check the boxes in the attic.”

“I’m doing it now.”

“Good. Darling, make sure to wear a kerchief when you go into that dusty old attic. You don’t want all that dust getting into your hair. I know your father has had people tending to that old thing for years, but I doubt they have spent much time up there.”

A familiar pounding was beginning to beat out a rhythm in her right temple, a side effect of hearing her mother’s voice. Reaching up, she rubbed her temple as her eyes closed. A kerchief. Like it was the early 1900s. If only we had these contraptions that we could wash our hair in when they get dirty. She kept the sarcastic comment to herself.

“It will be fine, mom.”

“Oh! I also need you to double check the bedrooms for any photographs that are of a personal nature. I do not believe there should be any, but-”

“Yes, mom. It’s on the list you gave me. The list that I have with me. I’ll get everything done, I promise.”

“I know, but I just want some of these items completed by the time I arrive this weekend.”

“Mom, you really don’t need to come all this way. I am perfectly capab-” It was her mother’s turn to interrupt.

“Nonsense. With your father gone, it would be unseemly for us to simply sell the place without at least making one more appearance.” The anniversary of Henry Weatherford’s passing was approaching, and Ava couldn’t help but wonder if her mother’s sudden manic need to rid herself of The Nest was a result of that milestone approaching. While her parents’ relationship had always felt stiff, when her father died from a sudden heart attack, her mother had spiraled. Ava realized that her mother had never actually been alone as an adult. They had married right out of high school, old money communing with more old money.

“We’ll get everything taken care of, mom.” Patience replaced her feeling of frustration as she reminded herself that Rose was learning to live a completely different life. Her father had been responsible for taking care of everything related to their finances.

“I need you to do one more thing that isn’t on the list,” Rose’s voice was all business as she spoke. “I need you to go to that boatyard your father used to use. I don’t trust the people in Newport to get a good price for the yacht. They made your father an appalling offer a few years ago when he first thought about selling it.”

A flutter of nerves ran through Ava’s stomach, and she swallowed thickly, nodding slowly even though her mother couldn’t see her.

“I can do that. The boat is still docked in Newport, right?”

“It is. We would need to hire somebody to transport it to The Point, but I want them to agree to sell it before we do that.”

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Ava couldn’t get off the phone quickly enough, so when she finally managed to end the phone call, she slumped back down on the swing. The shift of her weight caused the swing to pitch forward, and the shoe boxes toppled to the ground, the top one’s lid popping off and sending old photographs and a few folded letters scattering on the porch. Reaching down, she scooped them up to prevent them from blowing away. Smiling, she looked at the handful of old Polaroid photos. Her and Catherine Jenkins, her islander best friend, and the only person she still kept in touch with, stared up at her from the beach, wide grins on their faces. Though their correspondence had been patchy through the years, relying on written letters, and then moving to email once it became commonplace, they kept up with one another. They had just recently both joined a new social media platform, but Ava was terrible at remembering it even existed, and rarely got on. Moving the photo to the bottom, she looked at the next, an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia hitting her at the sight of their friend group. Her green eyes moved from one young, carefree face to another, finally settling on the one that had caused her to react to her mother’s request.

Chris. His scruffy blonde hair had that messy beach look he often wore from spending so much time in the saltwater. His tan arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and while everyone else looked at the camera smiling, they were staring at each other laughing. Ava couldn’t even remember what they were laughing at, but she felt a pang at the abandonment in her features, devoid of stress or pressure. Nobody had ever made her laugh like Chris.

Exhaling slowly, she packed everything back in the box and made her way to the pool house. When she first arrived, it had been with the intention of taking up residence in her old bedroom, but the idea of staying in the giant, empty house made her feel numb inside. The pool house was much more her speed, and she preferred the smaller one bedroom cottage. In truth, it was bigger than her apartment in New York City, but it had been decorated so differently than the main house. Where the floors were all marble and stone inside, the Pool House had the original hardwood flooring from the 1920s when it was built. The white walls, soft furniture, and natural wood accents made it feel cozier.

The boatyard. Swallowing thickly, she set the boxes down on the table and decided to take a shower before trekking down to see about the yacht. She wondered if Chris’ family still owned it, and if he was still here. It was impossible to imagine Chris leaving this island, but she knew that time and life choices had a way of taking one in unexpected directions. He had just always seemed to be a part of the island to her. Like the salt water and sand ran through his veins.

Ava made quick work of showering and blow drying her auburn hair. Throwing on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater, she slid on a pair of tennis shoes before hopping into the golf cart. Sliding her sunglasses down, she drove the familiar route from The Nest to the boatyard, finding it almost surreal to be on the island during this time of year. They had only ever visited during the summer months, when life at the beach was bustling and crowded. It was a different experience as she maneuvered the golf cart through the empty streets, a lot of the houses closed up for the upcoming winter season.

When she parked in front of the main building, she stepped out, feeling her pulse quicken as memories of a life long ago began to play out like old movies in her head. Nobody was in the front office, so she walked around until she found a couple of men sitting around, and one she couldn’t see under the hood of a truck. The men drinking their coffee were laughing at something, but when they caught sight of her, stood up, trying to recalibrate their demeanor to one more befitting a seemingly well-bred woman of means.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. I was trying to find the person in charge?” Her statement came out more of a question.

 

[JackHemingway]

In a romantic version of the world, you hear about someone inheriting the family business. You think they were just handed money and success, but in reality, or at least on the Island, it was your turn to do more of the hard work yourself. When Chris's grandfather established the boatyard not long after returning from his Navy service in World War II, the business increased, especially after it wasn't just fishing boats. Chris's father, to his credit, secured contracts and expanded their services, but one fact never changed. The business always took a lot of hard work.

While Chris had surrounded himself with a staff of dedicated employees and friends, many of whom had ties to the business, he kept busy from morning until night. Things would slow down for a little in the winter, but generally, for a dedicated owner, something required his attention every day. It was easy to get into a routine of getting up early, working all day, going to the Brew Pizza for dinner and drinks, going home, sleeping for a few hours, and doing it all again almost seven days a week.

It was easy to miss out on those good things, like a wife and family, but he was a good friend who always had a place to be welcomed. Cathy Jenkins had him over at least once a week, if not the holidays, and he'd play with her kids and hang out with her husband. There were a few families like that who were happy to see him around the table rather than eat bar food again. Leo and Melissa Roman, who owned Brew Pizza, treated him more like a son than a long-time customer. Life was not perfect, but it was a comfortable one.

Today, the morning routine went well enough, and after enjoying a lunch of shrimp and fries at the Shrimp Shack, he ran into Misty Levy, a girl he'd known since high school. She'd come a long way for a woman who was always disorganized in high school and had her first kid the summer after high school. She owned a cleaning company with over a dozen employees, and she and her husband had four kids and had been married since Hunter arrived. They chatted before he returned to work, and one of his employees informed him that pickup truck #2 was making strange sounds.

The truck was over twenty years old but had a lot of power and was invaluable around the yard, so Chris looked. He needed to figure out the problem precisely since the truck predated the diagnostic computers that were so common these days, so he had to do it the old-fashioned way. Chris listened, looked, and drove it around. Later in the afternoon, he finally thought he'd got it running when someone wandered in asking for help. Chris cursed briefly, but he knew his secretary, Brenda, was probably busy with two dozen other things and had stepped away from the office.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you. I was trying to find the person in charge." Her statement was more of a question.

Chris replied without looking up from under the hood, trying not to sound put off. "No problem; nobody else worries about bothering me. Anyway, how can I help? What do you need sales, service, or storage? You're a little late in the season. There's not much room left in the storage yard, and we're backed up on repairs unless you have a fish boat that needs to be on the water fast."

Neither seemed to register the other's voice, so things continued. "We are actually looking for transport and want to sell our yacht."

Chris grunted and wiped his face with a rag. It seemed no matter what, some rich person thought, anyone could accommodate their monster pleasure craft, and repairs could be done overnight for a minor fee. Chris kept wiping his face when he came around to the side of the vehicle and said, "I don't think we'll be able to help you out, but I know a broker who handles high-end sales. We only handle smaller craft here at C&C, miss?"

Chris blinked a few times, standing only a few feet away from the wealthy-looking woman with auburn hair in stretch pants before he changed gears entirely and blurted out. "Ah, Ava Weatherford? What the hell? I mean, hi, baby? Wait, is it still Weatherford? When did you get back to the Island? Is your father buying a bigger yacht or something?"

Chris acted like he had just seen a ghost, but it wasn't. It was a living, breathing part of his past, and she was probably somebody's wife and didn't appreciate being called baby. "Could we have a cup of coffee in the office? I mean, damn, I haven't seen you in a while. You look great."

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Ava’s brows creased together as the hidden figure behind the truck spoke, but didn’t step out. Reaching up, she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ears, the breeze blowing in from the water causing her hair to dance around her face. Crossing her arms, she tilted her head slightly as she tried to pick out the man’s words, an expectant look on her face. Certainly he didn’t intend to have an entire conversation with her from behind the hood of a truck. While she didn't have her mother's unrealistic expectations in what she considered good customer service, Ava still expected something a little more than a brisk reply through a piece of old metal.

"I don't think we'll be able to help you out, but I know a broker who handles high-end sales.”

A feeling of dread began to settle in the pit of her stomach at his declaration. Ava did not have any desire to call her mother back with the news that they were out of luck. Rose was used to getting her way and having everything just as she wanted it, Ava herself being the one exception to that. A groan nearly escaped her, but her ears perked up when he mentioned a broker.

Annoyance flooded her face as he finally decided to grace her with his presence, but quickly dissolved into a look of shock. Her lungs constricted as his eyes met hers, his surprise registering as well, and her arms unfurled themselves and dropped to her sides.

“Chris!” His name popped out, her tone incredulous as she took in his features. Despite the years, his hair still managed to look windswept, and his face had filled out with age. Those green eyes that nearly matched hers in shade still held that same brightness she’d memorized.

His reaction and rapid fire questions took her by surprise, but she couldn't help but smile as a small laugh escaped her. A questioning look flashed across her face at the term of endearment, but she quickly wrote it off as an old habit. When he finally finished stacking his questions, an amused smile reappeared on her face, her head shaking from the surprise at seeing him. Logically, she had known there was a chance she would see him. In that regard, Ava had been a little more prepared than Chris was. Although, she was having a difficult time reading his reaction, and she couldn't tell if he was appalled at seeing her after all this time or just shocked at the notion.

“I have only been back a few days,” she said, mentally recapping his queries. Her voice softened when she next spoke, and she ran her hand through her hair. “Um, no, he isn't buying anything. He passed almost a year ago, and my mother is ready to start selling off assets. That's actually why I'm here. Getting the house ready to go on the market, and she wants to sell the yacht. Apparently she doesn't trust anyone in Newport.”

Ava was still staring at him as though she expected to wake up and find this to be a dream.

“Coffee would be great.” It was later in the day than she would typically drink caffeine, but if it meant reconnecting with him, she would have chugged an entire pot. “How ha
ve you been?”

 

[JackHemingway]

As they walked to the office in the cool fall weather, Chris replied, "Ah, sorry about your Dad. I'm pretty good. Thanks. I didn't expect to see you here. I'm sure you'll get a lot of money for the house. As to the yacht, I can point you in the right direction, but that's more than I can handle. Your Mom isn't here?"

There was a lot to unpack with that friendly statement, and most of it could have been better. Ava was a wonderful human being, but her parents didn't like her talking to the 'help,' let alone spending time with him. Chris, a long-time employee of Ava's father, was often treated as 'the help' despite his close relationship with Ava. Her father didn't want him in the house and barely wanted him on his boat. He probably would have lost it if he knew he'd been with his daughter and in his home on many occasions. Well, that wasn't a nice thought, but it was heartwarming in a devious way.

The office for the C&C Boatyard was located a short distance from the main gate. It was a storefront against one of the two old large brick buildings that dated back a century to the days of the Island's whaling history. The white three-story building housed the operations offices and had two large windows on the first story with the company logo stenciled on one and a model of a clipper ship displayed on the window sill of the other. It was the first of several impressive model ships shown in the waiting area and were all built by Chris's grandfather. The front waiting area had been updated since Ava had last been there and even had wi-fi, and while some of the names on the signs had changed, they were still the hand-carved wooden placards with Chris's name at the top. It still had a homey feel, and craftsmanship and tradition were displayed everywhere, creating a comforting and familiar atmosphere.

When you walked in, there were couches on your right, lining all sides with a coffee table, and on the left, there were chairs and a large stained oak countertop. It had all the everyday items you'd expect at a coffee station, but with a cappuccino machine and a setup for coffee pots more like you'd see in a truck stop and a small refrigerator with a clear door packed with energy drinks and boxes of donuts that seemed to have been ravished throughout the day.

Covered in grease and dirt in an old company gray hoodie, jeans, and workboots, Chris knew he wasn't making a good impression, but the Ava he knew never cared about things like that. Walking to the coffee station, he remembered the girl who lived in jean shorts, bikini tops, and flip-flops. Damn, she was hot, and well, she still was, and as she looked around, Chris put prepared two coffees in the extra large mugs that were hanging on the coffee mug rack.

Besides the scale model in the window, three others were displayed on high shelves, including two more clipper ships and a whaling vessel. In his later years, Chris's grandfather would still come into the office but mostly worked on his modeling projects, and he was always kind to Ava. There were a few framed pictures of different vessels, probably from the manufacturers. Still, there were plenty of workers, various projects, and a few ships that competed and even won that had been through the boatyard.

While there were several sailboat races on the Island, there was also a fun yet competitive dragon boat race, a significant event for the workers at the boatyard. If you looked carefully, you could find a picture of the beautiful dragon boat built in the yard. Every year was a different theme, and that year, each rower was with their spouse, so it was all yard workers and their significant other. Everyone was wearing safety orange t-shirts with company information on the back, but Ava stood out, wearing a one-piece bathing suit in that obnoxious color. To her mother's dread, Ava had special ordered it for the occasion. Chris remembered second place fondly, the beer bash after, and how easily that suit slid down her supple tan frame, evoking a sense of longing and sentimentality for the past.

As Ava looked around, Chris poured the coffee and added the right amount of milk and sugar. He was ninety percent sure he'd gotten Ava's coffee right. Sure, they'd done coffee in town a million times, but that was twenty years ago. He'd learned the coffee from the old timers at the yard who'd served at sea, and it was hot black and probably could sink a battleship. He added more milk to Ava's and passed it off to her, along with a pink frosted donut with sprinkles on a napkin. Ava's Mom kept her on a strict diet for dance, or so she claimed, so Chris delighted in being the one who knew all her favorite treats and was happy to provide them.

Chris grabbed his coffee and a chocolate glaze donut, smiled at Ava for a long minute, and fought the urge to move her hair out of her face. You don't get to do that anymore, he thought. She just disappeared. He should be mad, but that wouldn't help. He had to discover what was happening and ensure she had her reasons. He couldn't let any feelings create tension.

"We can take this in my office. Sorry for the mess in advance," Chris said before heading down the hallway. He waved to Brenda, an attractive brunette talking on her phone headset while juggling a baby boy, wearing a diaper and a blue sailboat T-shirt. Chris smiled and said, "Hi Travis, let your Mother work, buddy."

They were at Chris's fairly spartan office a few doors down, but it still needed to be filled with drawings, cardboard and wooden boxes, piles of paperwork, and models of ships. The windows looked out at the chainlink fence and the street, and in one corner was a whiteboard filled with information, and there was a large wooden desk that had been Chris's father's with an extensive blueprint of a sloop hanging on the wall without a frame. In truth, it looked like a little boy's bedroom, where someone was running a business. Chris put down his donut and coffee, cleared off the two leather chairs in front of his desk, and sat down at the one closest to the windows.

"I normally don't meet clients back here, and well, I didn't think you'd be coming here again. Cathy told me you were okay and told me that you were on PBS that time, but I didn't know what happened. I always figured we'd have one last summer to say bye, though."

Fuck he wasn't some teenage kid, and he wasn't sitting around pining for her, either. He took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat. "Well, we had a lot of good summers a while back, and I'd love to hear what you have been up to. I heard you got married or something. You still like pizza?"

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Ava fell into step beside Chris, her gaze occasionally flickering to him as they walked beside one another. He seemed a little taller to her than she’d remembered, but that could have just been the time gap from when she’d last seen him. At the mention of her dad, she shook her head. The question about her mother brought a wry smile to her face.

“She will be. Her plan is to come up this weekend,” she said, grimacing slightly. “I think she plans to stay at The Lodge, but she is insisting on being here to oversee everything. A broker would be helpful. She said something about the people in Newport trying to lowball my father a few years ago when he tried to sell. Not that my mother would actually use that term.” She grinned at him, that mischievous twinkle lighting up her eyes as they used to when she was a rebellious young adult.

The office space was cozy, and it fit Chris. A little cluttered, a little mismatched, nothing fancy, but it got the job done and made people feel at home. As he busied himself getting their coffee, Ava found herself inspecting the photographs. Leaning in, she laughed lightly at the memories displayed out, her eyes honing on the neon orange bathing suit. The Baywatch jokes had been a little difficult to endure, but the way that her mother had panicked at the idea of her daughter wearing orange made it all worth it. She couldn’t practically hear the screeching argument even all these years later.

“Orange does not look good on anyone, Ava Maria! I forbid it. It will clash with your skin tone. It’s a trashy color. What will everybody else think of a Weatherford trouncing around with those people? Rowing a boat, of all things? We can pay someone to row for you.”

Those people. How many times had her mother spit those words in Ava’s direction? That race had been one of her favorites. They likely could have won, but one of their number had gotten a head start on the beer bash and had a particularly difficult time remembering his left from his right. Ava had never laughed so hard. That night had been one for the memory books, as so many nights on the island had been. She’d always preferred spending time with the locals than the yacht club crew. Every time she was forced into a dress of her mother’s choosing, she’d felt a piece of her die a little bit. Those nights were always an exercise in patience as her mother paraded her in front of everyone else’s unmarried sons, the future heirs to multi million or billion dollar family companies. Being able to sneak away, throw on a pair of shorts, and just unwind had been her saving grace.

Standing up straight, she turned to face him as he approached her. Taking the coffee and donut, she followed him into his office.

“Don’t worry about it. It fits you,” she said in response to his apology about the office. Once he finished clearing the chairs, she sat down, instinctively tucking her legs underneath her as she carefully avoided spilling her coffee.

“I didn't think you'd be coming here again.”

Those words made her wince, and her eyes dropped from his as she rested the donut on her lap, suddenly too interested in the individual sprinkles that decorated the top. Chewing her bottom lip, she lifted her eyes back to his, the weight of that particular part of their history evident.

“I know.” Her words came out barely above a whisper as she fidgeted with the napkin. “I’m sorry, Chris. I don’t know what happened.” Studying his features, her eyes grazed the familiar trail along his jawline before moving back up to his eyes. That same face she had spent countless hours studying, memorizing every detail, every muscle movement, every little bit of nuance.

“I was away at an intensive dance training in Paris, and when I called to get details for when they were coming here for the summer, my mother told me they planned to never return. I asked about my just coming out and staying in the pool house, and she said no. She made it clear that we were done here and I wasn’t to come back. Whatever happened, they never told me.” It seemed like a lame excuse all these years later as a grown woman in her thirties. I’m sorry I disappeared from your life because my mommy said I had to. “I’d always hoped to find a way back, but then life just got busy and took over. Time has a way of passing so quickly.”

“I heard you got married or something. You still like pizza?"

Ava picked up her coffee and took a sip, but nearly choked on the statement. Looking up at him, she shook her head.

“Definitely did not get married,” she said. Her finger began running absentmindedly over the rim of her mug. “I was engaged, though. For five years.” Her stomach twisted at the memory of it.

“Apparently once he had my father’s company he didn’t feel the need to be with me, so he called off the engagement six months ago.” Bringing the mug to her lips, she took another sip, the warmth of it trickling down her throat. “I was just a ticket to getting him what he really wanted.” Shrugging, she gave him a sad smile. In truth, Ava wasn’t certain she had truly loved James. He’d been her mother’s choice, a forced date that hadn’t been terrible. James had actually come across as more down to earth than any other man her mother had attempted to set her up with, so she’d agreed to go on another date. And then another. And then another. Ava thought there had been friendship there for a while. He seemed genuinely accepting of her chaotic schedule, which was a relief. Ava, and many of her other colleagues, learned quickly that men fantasize about dating a professional dancer, but always end up being less enthusiastic about the unpredictable hours and sheer lack of time.

“What about you? Is there a Mrs. Connelly running around the island?” It was hard to imagine that he hadn’t caught some woman’s eyes by now. Aside from how good looking he was, Ava had always been astounded by Chris’ gift for making people feel truly seen. It was a trait she knew drove women wild, and she’d witnessed other coeds falling for him on the spot when they were younger.

“And duh,” she followed up, a playful grin spreading across her face. “It’s pizza.”

 

[JackHemingway]

Chris had some hard questions for Ava, but as she explained things, he got the idea that some of her life choices weren't hers, and she really seemed sorry. They were kids, and he didn't offer her a ring or anything. They had three or four months a year together and then returned to their lives. Even if she was in his reality, it wasn't hers as much fun as they had together. Listening to Ava, he knew he wasn't mad, but he missed her, which had hurt for a while once upon a time. You can't change that, but you could be the friend you always said that you were.

He listened to her story, and when things lightened a little, he put his coffee on the desk and reached out. Her hand fit into his like always, and he gently squeezed it. Chris hoped he'd washed enough so his gruff hands didn't hurt her angel-soft ones. Another thing that stayed the same was that she had some wild-colored nail polish. "Hey, no worries, it's good to see you, though. I'm glad you came back, even if it's to go again. I never hated you. I just missed you."

Chris held Ava's hand for a little longer before he smiled and let go. "Well, there isn't a Mrs. Connelly on the Island. I mean, I did have a lot of fun eventually, but I guess I put the business first too many times. I mean, how many times can you leave someone waiting for you dressed nicely and with a hot meal waiting? Besides, it wouldn't have worked, right? I mean, I didn't want to leave, and you wanted to dance and travel. Oh, I am sorry about the greedy asshole. I'm sure you'd have been a great wife."

It wasn't poetry, but it was from the heart. Ava didn't come back that summer, and he was depressed and went through the motions for most of it. However, he had fun with the summer girls well into the fall. Chris never told any of them he loved them, though. He was wary of doing it and was sure it put off one or two potential lovers. Ava was unique, but that was in the past. Maybe they could end things as friends this time.

"Are you up for a few pies and a pitcher at Brew Pizza? We have Uber now, so don't worry, but there will probably be some people you know there who would like to see you again. You can even buy it if you want a rich girl," he teased as he looked into those beautiful green eyes.

"It's been a while, but it's your turn, right?"

 

[QuirkyQuill]

His gesture took her off guard, though in hindsight, his hand taking her hand shouldn’t have. They had always been physically affectionate with each other, even before anything had turned romantic between them. The entire friend group had been like that. They’d sit on the beach, all their arms wrapped around each other, hugging each other when it got a little chilly, hanging off each other. The Maple Reef Islanders had always been so warm and personable, and Ava had devoured that type of human connection. It was comforting to know that even though some of the landscape had changed, the authenticity of the island’s people had not.

Smiling, she squeezed his hand at his words, a look of gratitude washing over her features. “I missed you too. It was hard. We were babies back then.”

“I mean, how many times can you leave someone waiting for you dressed nicely and with a hot meal waiting?”

His words made her chuckle, a knowing look crossing her face. “I actually understand that really well. I think a lot of men like the idea of dating a dancer, but the reality is so much less glamorous. Six days a week, we’re in rehearsal for anywhere from six to nine hours, and that seventh day we still have to train. Then when we have an open show, we’re rehearsing for six hours, getting a couple hours to rest, but then we’re back for the performance. There’s very little time to actually have a life outside of work, and it wears thin quickly.”

That was one of the things that had actually kept her agreeing to go on dates with James. He was so dedicated to his work, that her schedule didn’t seem to bother him because he was typically working late hours and weekends just as much as she was. He’d made it a point to go watch her at least once in every performance, though, which was more than she could say about some of the other men she’d dated. Looking back now, it really was depressing how easily she’d nearly let herself get trapped in a marriage with someone who seemed fine with never seeing each other.

“I'm sure you'd have been a great wife."

Ava grimaced at his last sentence, her head shaking slightly as she looked less convinced. “Honestly, I think I would have been a terrible wife. I was never as determined to hold that title as my mother was determined for me to. You know how old money families think… I was supposed to become an adult, get married immediately, and start having babies. I would have been terrible at planning fancy parties and being a lady who lunches while a nanny takes care of my children.” She stuck her tongue out, an action that made her more closely resemble eighteen year old Ava than the older woman she was now. Laughing, she shuddered dramatically. “The horror.”

The idea of pizza appealed to her much more than crawling back into the dusty attic to continue sifting through old forgotten family items.

“That’d be great.” Grinning, she shook her head as a playful expression crossed her face. “I probably do owe you a pizza, but as I’ve always told you, my parents…mom is rich. I am not.” Ava had a trust fund, but she never touched it, much to her mother’s dismay. It’s not that she had any moral objection to money, but she liked taking care of herself. It gave her mother’s power over her limits because she couldn’t use the money against her.

“I have the golf cart. We can just take that if it’s easier.” She held the key out to him, offering to let him take the wheel if he wanted. "Other than Cat, who else is still around?"

 

[JackHemingway]

Chris was about to take the key from her and drive to Brew Pizza when he remembered that his neighbor, who usually checked on his dogs, was working tonight. So he replied to Ava, who got a surprised look, "No, actually, let's leave that here. We can take my truck. I have to go home and check on the kids."

Chris smiled and said, "You'll see. I would have told some people if you had told me you were coming. Cathy got me on social media a few years back. She's a guru with that stuff. She streamed you doing the Nutcracker one Christmas at her house. You looked amazing."

With that, Chris walked out into the hallway, with Ava following. He stopped looking in on Brenda, who had her son hoisted on her shoulder, which was covered by a blanket. She was carrying a diaper bag and briefcase. She held her finger up to her mouth, and Chris nodded. He then whispered, "Are we good for the night? Do you need any help with Travis?"

Brenda walked into the hallway, smiled, and whispered to Christ, "No, I'm going home. I'm going to put him down at home, and Jimmy will start dinner and take care of the other kids. Everything will wait until morning. You have a nice time with Ah?"

Brenda politely introduced herself and apologized for not having a free hand. The three walked out together, and Chris locked up as Brenda loaded little Travis into the car seat inside the beat-up SUV. Chris went to get the company pickup truck and showed Ava where she could park before pulling out. She slid into the truck as he locked the gate to the yard behind them.

As Chris drove, he thought about how often they'd done this already: Hop in a yard pickup truck and drive to Brew Pizza. Sometimes, they'd go to his parent's house first, and he'd shower while Ava talked to his Mom, Kayla, and his father, Sean, when he was home. Dad had passed a few years back, more than a few really, and Mom was on her own, still working at the hospital third shift out of habit to fill the hours. Life moved on, though, even if Chris stayed on the Island.

It was only a few blocks up, and a little out of the way to get to Chris's house, which was one of the Island Cottages where they were known. The Island, a small, close-knit community with a rich fishing heritage, was known for its simple, one-story cottages built to provide homes for the fishermen. Over the years, these cottages had been developed into larger vacation rentals, but the original charm remained. Chris's house, at the end of the corner of the block, was a perfect example, with its view of the ocean.

A white picket fence lined the property, and there was an open gate at the driveway that led up to a garage with a basketball hoop. Several bagged-up-looking older jeeps lined one side of the driveway, and there was a large orange container box right next to the garage. The house was just one straight rectangle but was actually a good size. Like almost all the cottages on the block, it had lovely cedar shingles that aged with time. On the end of the house facing the street where they pulled up, and on the front facing the street, there were a bay window bay windows. The rest of the windows were regular with the same white trim, and there were also windows on the attic level.

Chris backed into the pickup truck, got out, closed the gate, and then went to the house. He looked back at Ava getting out of the truck and smiled. "They're friendly; just be prepared for a lot of attention."

Chris opened the back door to the house, and suddenly, three average-sized brown furry mutts rushed out the door. They were hard to tell apart, but for the fact each had a bandana around their neck, red, blue, and purple. The dogs smothered their owner in licks and pawed at him as their tales wagged wildly. Chris's laughter filled the air as he played with them, but they soon turned their attention to Ava, who was leaning against the truck, watching the scene. They were friendly, but their excitement was a testament to Chris's care and responsibility as a dog owner.

Ava wasn't spared the same treatment, and Chris watched her reaction to the dogs with anticipation. As she petted them, Chris smiled and yelled, 'Chaz is red, Cooper is blue, and Luna is purple. I got them at the shelter. It might shock you, but those scruffy mongrels aren't pure breeds. They're siblings and always slept together, and they cry any time one is gone for too long, which is about two minutes, so I took them in. They watch the house and eat everything they can find, but the neighbor's kids love them.'

Chris's father was a tough man by anyone's standards, but since Chris was a baby, he never met a dog he didn't like, and the Island's strays always ended up at their house to his mother's dread. Of course, she'd only kick one out if it went to a good home. Chris's father's love for dogs had a profound impact on him, and he continued the tradition of taking in strays, though he felt he had more self-control than his father. He wondered if Ava remembered Seal, the dog they had back then, a lovely gray and white husky mutt who liked ice cream.

Chris excused himself after telling Ava they'd wander around the yard and do their business soon enough, and he went in to change his shirt. Instead, he walked through the house to his bedroom across from the bathroom slash laundry room. He threw everything in the hamper and then went and washed up again. He changed into fresh clothes after spraying himself with deodorant. This wasn't a date, so why should he care? Well, it was Ava, though, and making her smile always made him feel good.

Chris returned to find Ava in the kitchen area, handing out treats to all the dogs while patiently sitting in a row. The dogs, usually a bit mischievous, were on their best behavior, sitting patiently for their treats. Chris chuckled, 'Oh, you furry little traitors. You run around knocking stuff over and making a mess and expect treats, but someone new shows up, and you pretend to be good kids?'

There was a small bathroom off the kitchen area, and a dining room table covered with clutter sat perfectly between the two windows. Then, there was an oversized L-shaped couch and a flat-screen TV. It looked like Chris had been sleeping there, with blankets and pillows piled at one end. Three dog beds were nearby on the hardwood floor. It was not surprising that there were pictures of ships all over the walls.

"It really has a beautiful view of the ocean. It's not like your parent's place, but it's home. Realtors regularly ask me if I want to sell. Cathy's a few blocks over, along with many other friends."

Part of Chris wanted to ask if she wanted to order in, throw some burgers on the barbecue, stay in, and watch Netflix, but this wasn't Ava a summer girl anymore. That was long ago, and it's not like she came to see him. She wanted to sell a boat but was happy to talk and hang out. Ava would be gone again a few days a week or two. She had a life in New York which didn't include him. These were just facts, and old feelings didn't factor in when it came down to it.

 

[QuirkyQuill]

“I have to go home and check on the kids."

His choice of words made her stop for a moment, her brow creasing as a questioning look crossed her face. He said there was no wife, but that didn’t necessarily mean there were no children. Ava was trying to determine if he was being cutesy, because the Chris she knew over a decade ago would have been.

“Are you about to take me to see a bunch of baby goats?” There was a suspicious twinge to her facial expressions as the left side of her mouth quirked upwards into a smile. As he continued speaking, she reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, her face turning mildly pink.

“Oh, thank you! The Nutcracker is a fun show. It’s interesting as a dancer, because so many of us perform multiple times at different stages in life, but as you get older, you get to take on different roles so it feels different every time.” She stood up as she finished speaking, unfurling her legs from the couch as she stretched her lower back slightly. Spending the majority of the day hunched over had certainly done a number on her muscles and spine. Ava had no doubt she would need to stretch thoroughly before bed that night. Following him out of his office, she paused behind him as Brenda came out of the office, the sleeping bundle bringing a smile to her face.

“Ava,” she whispered, responding to Brenda’s question and waving off her apology.

Hopping into the truck, she fought the urge to kick off her shoes and prop her feet up on the dash as she’d done all those years ago. They’d spent so many hours just driving around the island, windows rolled down with the salty air whipping through the bed of his truck, or whichever friend had managed to borrow a car off their parents, music blaring as they sang at the top of their lungs. All of a sudden, Ava burst out laughing, covering her mouth to stifle the sound as her shoulders shook. Looking over at him, she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face.

“Do you remember when we were all driving around and 2 Legit 2 Quit came on the radio, and we were all singing along, until we realized that Cathy was singing tuna fish and grits because that’s what she thought it said?” Dissolving into laughter, Ava shook her head, the memory as fresh as the salty air. “Even now when that song gets played on a throwback channel, all I can hear is ‘tuna fish, tuna fish and grits.’”

The drive took very little time, but she enjoyed the familiar scenery. Despite having been on the island for several days, she’d barely left the house since arriving. Ava had opted to stop at a grocery store on the mainland before crossing the bridge to the beach, so she’d had no reason to venture out. When he pulled in, she hopped out of the truck, looking around the quaint street.

“I always loved this part of town. It felt like the heart and soul of the whole island.” She turned in time to see him open the back door, and a small laugh escaped her as the three dogs came tumbling outside, their bodies quivering with excitement. Crossing her arms and legs, she leaned against the bed of the truck. When the three furry bodies turned her way and came in her direction, she stood up straight, an affectionate smile on her face. Reaching down she took turns scratching them each behind the ears.

“Well, hello, Chaz, Cooper, and Luna,” she met their excitement with equal measure when she spoke, pointing to each dog as she said their name. “Shelter dogs are the best. Aren’t you?” She brought her hands on either side of Luna’s middle and rubbed her back and forth, laughing as her whole body wagged. She nodded in acknowledgement as Chris went inside, but stayed a few extra minutes outside with the dogs.

Once the three had run around for a bit and seemed content to go inside, she stepped in, her eyes taking in the cottage. It felt like Chris, and that made her smile. It was homey rather than flashy, lived in but in a comfortable way. She poked around for a moment and found the dog treats in a container on the counter, telling them each to sit before rewarding them. Looking up when Chris came out, Ava’s nose wrinkled slightly as he joked with the dogs.

“Oh, that’s probably because they have you wrapped around their paws. Isn’t it?” She looked back down and tossed Chaz his treat before putting the container back where she pulled it from. “I bet you let them get away with everything.” Resting her hands on the counter behind her, she leaned back, her eyes finding Chris’.

“It's not like your parent's place, but it's home.”

“Ah. The Nest. You mean, larger than any house has a right to be? Impersonal? Imposing? Empty?” Shaking her head, her nose wrinkled slightly. “The view is beautiful there, though. I can’t bring myself to sleep in it, though. It’s honestly strange to step foot back in it at all. Like a skeleton of something that used to be, if that makes sense.” Shaking her head, Ava realized she probably sounded like she’d lost her mind.

“Definitely don’t sell it. Some developer would probably come in and find a way to turn it into something else. This island has enough overbearing, million dollar homes.” Shrugging, she looked down as Luna nudged her leg, causing her to chuckle as she reached a hand down and laid it on the dog’s head.

“So, pizza?” Ava realized she was starving, her stomach grumbling at the very thought of it. “Please tell me it’s still the best pizza. I feel like I have always compared every pizza to theirs, and I don’t know if it’s nostalgia refusing to let any other take top place in my heart, or because it really is amazing.”

 

[JackHemingway]

"Yeah, I'm a regular at Cathy's house. She tells that story every time she makes shrimp and grits with cheese for breakfast. Normally, on Sunday, she does brunch before football and everything. Michael, her husband, has a huge TV display and video games for the kids."

Chris trailed off for a second and pointed to some photos attached to the front of the refrigerator, along with all the receipts and pictures of sailboats. There were more than a few news clippings about boat races, the yard, and one glossy signed photo from an actress who'd signed it and kissed it after filming her Coast Guard movie on the Island. Chris hoped she might overlook that and notice half a dozen pictures of Michael, Cathy, and their four kids. There was also a wedding picture with all the local girls as bridesmaids.

"You remember Michael? He was a few years older than us, and as Cathy puts it, he was very patient waiting for his shot. They made up for lost time through four kids in six years. He's a chef at the country club. Won some awards, and he makes the best coffee." Chris said, his voice filled with admiration for his friend's journey.

Chris was sure the little demons perked up when someone mentioned pizza. He shook his head and looked down at the little pack. "No, you're not getting pizza just because Ava is here, and that would be easy." The pets' anticipation for food was always a source of amusement for Chris.

Chris walked over to one of the cabinets, took out three large cans of beef stew packed with meat and vegetables on the label, and emptied the contents into three cereal bowls that were not dog bowls. He then placed them all in the microwave for a few minutes. He turned back to Ava and smiled, thinking she still had that good energy about her that always made him smile. "Bear with me a few minutes. They need their food, and then we can get ours. I went to the boat show a few years back. I think your Island is more crowded than mine," Chris said with a laugh.

A few minutes later, the microwave dinged, and Chris took out the three bowls and placed them next to some water dishes. The three dogs with tails wagging wildly dashed over, and all began to consume their hot meals. Chris walked to the back door, opened it for Ave, and smiled. "They're not spoiled. That's from the supermarket."

It was only a short drive to Brew Pizza, and it hadn't changed much since the 1970s, never mind since Ava had been to town. It was a brick and wood building with a large gravel parking lot that was busy with people coming and going. While not as prominent in the summer months, some people were still enjoying beer coolers and eating their pizza out of a box as cars and trucks with something identifying them as Brew Pizza delivery vehicles came and went. The music of Island Chill, a 1980s tribute band, could be heard from inside the bar area.

The pair parked, and as they walked into the bar entrance, something happened out of instinct or nostalgia: They held hands without saying a word. Chris didn't even realize it until he was greeted by the hostess and another friend, who smiled at Ava and brought the pair to a booth in the bar. Over the blare of a Van Halen-style guitar solo, a veteran barmaid, Jessica, approached the table and hugged Chris. The brown-haired woman had to be in her fifties, looked weathered but pretty, and was covered in tattoos.

"Hey, baby! How are you doing? Date night? Do you want the special for you and your lady friend? Do you want a pitcher of birch or regular beer with your two pies?"

Jessica was the type of wait staff you found at places that were used to handling regulars and knew what most people wanted by looking at them. While Chris was a regular Ava, she was just another summer girl all those years back, but she knew how to be friendly to make a favorite customer look good. She turned to Ava and smiled. "I'll get you a few glasses of water while you all decide, but we do have some great salads to hun."

While Jessica headed over to the bar, the next person to encounter the pair knew exactly who she was looking at, even if it took her a few minutes to process. The tall, mocha-skinned woman with the wild, curly blonde was rocking it in black leather pants and a red tank top. She was sipping her cocktail and strutting over to the booth, and with her electric smile, she greeted Chris. "Hey Chris, how are you doing? Who's your friend?"

Her glance in Ava's direction turned into a full-blown stare, and then she let out an excited little scream like a little girl as she slammed her drink down on the table. "Ava! When did you get here, girl?"

Before Ava could respond, she was getting hugs from her old friend Diamond Willis. Diamond's father was a fisherman like many on the Island, but her mother ran one of the best salons, and the girls had been friends since a young age. Diamond ran the shop now, but every summer, Diamond made Ava's hair a project, insisting that she could do more than just put it in a dancer's bun daily. From a French braid to cornrows, Diamond lovingly did her friend's hair, which often annoyed Ava's Mother.

"Bunhead, when did you get to town," Diamond said as she pushed into the booth on Chris's side and held her friend's hand. "When did you two get back together again? Please take him with you when you come to my place; his hair needs help! I think he uses the same shampoo as his dogs and trims it once a month."

Chris just covered his face and laughed at all of this, but he did look up to see Ava's reaction. It wasn't surprising that Diamond had regular girls' nights with her salon staff, whom she treated like family. He was sure other friends would pass through, but he hoped Ava would see a few people and know she'd been missed. Maybe she would be a stranger.

 

[QuirkyQuill]

“Yes, Michael actually came to New York a few times with Cathy when she came to visit. He really is so perfect for her.” She smiled at the photos on the fridge, seeing her friend grow even more beautiful from year to year. Married life and motherhood truly suited her, and Ava felt a little twinge of uncertainty at her current situation in comparison. She didn’t regret where life had taken her, but she still had a difficult time grappling with the fact that she was no longer a full-time dancer. Cathy was surrounded by this beautiful family she’d built through the years, and Ava’s dream had been derailed by a misplaced partner’s hand and a broken wrist that had never quite regained the same strength. Granted, she knew she’d been on the older end of principal dancers as it was, so she hadn’t had much time left on the stage, but she still felt like something had been stolen from her.

Shaking her head, she pasted on that smile she’d perfected as a young girl under her mother’s tutelage. “The way they can’t keep their hands off of each other is so sweet. I don’t even think they realize they do it.”

Standing up straight, she watched as he moved around the kitchen to feed the dogs. Her left eyebrow quirked skyward at his declaration, a doubtful expression crossing her face. “It might be store bought, but I have no doubt those dogs are about as spoiled as they come.”

She followed him back out to the truck, the ride to the pizza place comfortable. It was a stark contrast to the busy atmosphere inside the familiar old building. When he took her hand, she was a little caught off guard, not expecting the familiarity of her hand inside his after all these years. She gently pulled her hand back when they reached the booth, sliding in as her eyes danced around the place. Grinning, she felt the environment wrap around her like a favorite sweater that had just been found in the back of a closet after years of missing it.

“Thank you,” she responded politely to the server, smiling as the older woman walked off. Giving Chris a helpless look, her shoulders shook slightly as she chuckled. “Why does everyone always offer me salad?”

The next voice that cut through the restaurant made Ava’s heart instantly lift, and she squeezed Diamond tightly in a returned hug. “Oh my goodness, it is so great to see you!” She laughed and shook her head at the rapid fire questions, Diamond’s intensity and vivacity just as heightened as when she was younger. Diamond had been one of her island friends who had always pushed her out of her comfort zone. Spunky and with a heart of gold, she’d always managed to catch Ava in those moments where she hung back, uncertain of her place among her peers who all grew up together year round, and would yank her out into the crowd as if she was one of their own.

“We aren’t,” she said, shaking her head, her face touching pink as she looked between Diamond and Chris. “I mean, I just got back a few days ago. This is the first time we’ve seen each other since the last time my family was here. I’m here for the summer while my mother and I get The Nest ready to go for sale.”

“I heard about your dad,” Diamond’s exuberance sobered as she squeezed Ava’s hand. “I’m sorry. Some of the older men he used to play golf with came in talking about it last year.”

“Thanks. It’s been an interesting year,” Ava inhaled deeply, trying not to linger on it too long. Her family was complicated. “But, I’m here for a couple months anyway, so we will have to get together at some point.”

Ava shot Chris a mischievous grin before returning her gaze back to Diamond. “If he’s trimming his hair once a month, I’d say that’s an improvement from a decade ago. Baby steps.” Shifting her gaze back to Chris, she gave him a playful wink.

“All right,” she said, pulling her hand back from Diamond and clapping them together. “The waitress said something about beer, and I was not legally old enough to drink the last time I was here, so…” She held her hands out, palms up as she looked at them both questioningly. “Talk to me, Goose. My mother is coming into town tomorrow, so getting a bit tipsy tonight sounds like a fantastic coping mechanism.”

 

[JackHemingway]

The three friends joined hands and began laughing hard as they looked at each other. Yes, they hadn't drunk legally at Brew Pizza, but they certainly had gotten smashed on cheap booze bought for them by some fishermen more than a few times, but they weren't kids anymore. Now, they'd get drunk in a bar, and over the next few hours, as they got caught up and recalled all the stories from the past, they got hammered. Pitchers of beer, one margarita pitcher shared with Diamond and her girls, the shots with the few friends that wandered by, and a few drinks with Jessica at closing.

Along the way, they destroyed four thin-crust pizzas, handing out slices to any friends who happened by the table. The best part was a lot of laughs as they talked about the good times—the beach, the parties, and burning out every day until the fall. The nostalgia was thick in the air, and Diamond remembered coming to Ava's house to do her hair for a country club dance. Ava's mom treated her like a help as she styled the hell out of her hair. In the end, Ava looked stunning, and with a designer dress, she looked like a model.

Two hours later, Diamond remembered Ava storming out of the country club carrying her heels and walking out to Diamond's old blue jeep. Ava stripped down in the back of the jeep as they went to the beach party. Soon, Ava was in a bikini top, ripped jeans, and flip-flops, loving life again after a less-than-pleasant evening. She cuddled up next to Chris that warm night, and they slept on the beach. The following day, it was pandemonium when Chris brought her home.

Memories like that and many others made Chris smile and keep looking at Ava. They had such good times back then. He wished it didn't, but people grew apart, and that happened. Ava wanted no. She needed a life off the island. If she had stayed, she would have been bored eventually, so they moved apart, which wasn't bad. Still, though, he was glad to know her again. The complexity of their relationship was evident, and maybe it would be different this time, he thought, looking across at her as she giggled and nearly spit her beer back into her pint. That smile was infectious, and it was good to see her happy.

It was past two thirty in the morning when they all stumbled out into the parking lot, with the staff and band soon following. Fortunately, when they all agreed to party hard, they made arrangements. Diamond called a friend who did Uber with a big SUV and had them all picked up. Chris had passed his keys off to one of his workers who lived near the yard and was happy to drop off the truck after Chris paid for his takeout order. The man would have done it for free, but Chris wanted to be generous.

The three laughed and talked, but somewhere on the trip, there was a bit of confusion, and after dropping off Diamond, they returned to Chris's house. Ava got out to say goodnight, but the man drove off seconds later, and Ava turned to Chris, looking for answers. Chris leaned against the gate, smiled, and said, "You get the bed. I just washed everything, and I'll get the couch. I'll take you back to your Nest in the morning, or we can get another Uber. Either way, I need to let those dogs out, and well..."

While it was a bunch of years, and they had no real relationship anymore, in his drunk, maybe even lovesick mind, Chris was saying, please don't go again. If she fell asleep on the couch, that was fine, but he was in no hurry to get this woman out of his life again.

 

[QuirkyQuill]

The evening was a balm on her heart. After several days spent with her mother micromanaging her from afar and digging through long forgotten memories, Ava hadn't realized just how tense she’d been. Being back on the island inside the confines of The Nest had left her feeling devoid of spark, proving that some things remained the same, despite the years. Ava’s work schedule typically kept her busy with travel and long hours, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd let loose. While she had not planned to get outright drunk, the night took on a life of its own. Ava couldn't remember when she'd laughed so hard, and at one point she’d pressed her hands against her cheeks in an effort to ease the ache.

By the time she found herself stranded outside Chris' house, she felt the exhaustion hitting her. Stifling a yawn, she shook her head at his offer. “Thanks. I can crash on the couch. I'm not going to take your bed.”

She lifted her eyes to the sky briefly, catching a few stars dotting against the dark canvas. The waves crashed against the beach in the distance, the sound bringing immediate peace to her very soul.

“My golf cart is here, so driving home will be easy in the morning.” Shifting her gaze back to him, she grinned and held her hand out, motioning for him to lead the way.

The dogs were just as ecstatic when the door opened as they were earlier in the day. Ava imagined they were off schedule with the late hour. Or perhaps they weren't. For all she knew, Chris had a habit of coming in at various hours of the night.

As he went about letting the dogs out and taking care of what they needed, she ran to the restroom to wash her face in the sink. Finding a bottle of mouthwash, she gave her mouth a few swishes to get the taste of alcohol out of her mouth. It wasn't perfect, but she'd only be here for a few hours to take a small nap. With her mother coming into town earlier in the day, Ava knew she would need to be presentable. She definitely didn't need to look as though she'd been out drinking the night before.

Stepping back into the living room, she settled on the couch, grabbing a nearby blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders.

“It feels strange being here this time of year. What's the island like during the winter?”

 

[JackHemingway]

Chris wanted to protest out of chivalry, but he slept on the couch plenty of times, which made her comfortable. Why not? During their youth, they were intimate many times, but they didn't get together often. He always found it funny when people would say a couple sleeping together when most of the time it was about sex, and while Ava was a lot of fun, he did think of the times they spooned together in the back of a car or on the beach fondly. Now, she thought it was about being the friend she needed, so he took her hand with a squeeze, and they headed into the house.

The dogs were always excited to see him home, but they were thrilled to see Ava again. After running around the yard like maniacs before doing their business, they surrounded her in the kitchen to get petted, given treats, and fought to be the first to get a belly rub. A tired Ava was accommodating to all, making Chris smile as he took care of the house. The dogs finally settled down, and while they didn't lay in bed, the furry little hooligans were wandering around.

When Ava went to use the bathroom, Chris went to the end of the couch and unpacked a few blankets and a couple of pillows he kept stored there for guests. He made up part of the couch for Ava, who soon returned and grabbed one of them. Luna walked over and surveyed the scene to see where Ava was sleeping. She happily climbed on the couch and laid down on the blanket near where her feet would go.

Chris laughed, petted Luna, and smiled at Ava. "She norma "sleeps in the bedroom with her brothers, but she seems to like you. Just watch out for her on the way to the bathroom in the morning."

"It feels strange being here this time of year. What's it like during the winter?"

Chris always remembered autumn as a migration for the Island when all those who couldn't cosign themselves. Islanders head back to their real lives, and a third of the houses went empty, and boats stayed docked. A few times when things got hot and heavy, Ava tried to stay on for a few weeks, but there was school or ballet, or her parents wanted to get back to their larger property. Then, Ava left without saying goodbye in the autumn, and things seemed a little colder.

"Well, it can be really cold, but it can be pretty beautiful. When you look at the snow on the houses and the beach nearby, those waves are crashing. Before it gets really and the plows clean up the streets, it really is pretty. You stay inside, but the Island keeps its charm. I always hoped you'd come for the holiday events like our Thanksgiving parade or Christmas. They always find a beautiful tree for the town square. There isn't too much to do, so that's why Cathy's babies are born in the summertime."

Chris laughed, walked off, went to the laundry area, and soon returned with a long-sleeved T-shirt resembling a football jersey, dark blue sweatpants, and thick socks. "I'll give you Some privacy, hun. I mean, I'll be in the room. You know where everything is. You can charge your cell phone on the side table. The thermostat is by the kitchen; set it to whatever you want to get comfortable."

Chris pecked her on the cheek and softly said, "Night princess," something he'd done thousands of times before in another lifetime, before heading down the hall. Luna looked at Ava as Cooper and Chaz scampered down the hallway.

Once in his room, Chris turned on a light by his headboard, sighed, stripped down naked, and pulled on a pair of cloth shorts before heading to the bathroom. He had company, and Ava might think it was a little uncalled for if he walked around naked, even in his own house. She'd seen him naked plenty, but that was at a different time in their relationship. Ava apologized for leaving, but it's not like that meant they were starting up again. Sure, they had a good time and shared some memories, but that meant they had history, not a future.

Chris brushed his teeth, ensured the nightlight was on, and returned to his room. He'd already said goodnight and walked back into his room. Chaz and Cooper had already laid down on the empty side of the bed, and Chris shook his head. "Thanks, guys," so even if she does come over, you'll let her know the spot's taken."

He laughed and laid down, and soon sleepover took him, and he was dreaming about another life he could have had. Ava, who stayed and had kids with him, taught dance at a small studio next to Diamond's salon. Christmas and barbeques and fishing and laughing, but that didn't happen. It was okay. Before long, though, Chris woke up before the sun was in the sky and dogs were quietly snoring. He would only shove his guest out the door with a full stomach.

Chris pulled some jeans and socks from the floor and put on a yard hoodie and sneakers. Chaz and Cooper finally woke and followed him as he headed into the kitchen. Ava slept peacefully like an angel and used the other blankets to leave Luna in her comfortable nest. The dog, who'd probably kept vigil over her new friend, did hop off the couch and ran to join her brothers as Chris opened the back door. He started with the coffee machine, started the pot, and then walked to the refrigerator.

Chris usually meal-prepped for the week on Sunday, and there were plenty of options for lunch and dinner. However, he soon found what he wanted and had eggs and bacon frying up in the iron skillet that had been in his family for generations. Chris took a large bottle of the local supermarket Gatorade and walked over to Ava, who was still sleeping. It was her favorite orange because, somehow, oranges were less toxic. The sports drink was the hangover that all the locals swore by, and there was usually at least one cooler at a beach party.

He made do with potato wedges and added butter before warming them up. Chris also made a small stack of wheat toast and served everything on large white dishes he placed on the counter. Chris could see Ava waking up, so he threw more food into the skillet and made food for the dogs. By the time they were in and jetting for the bowls, Ava was there wrapped in an Indian blanket, laughing.

"Morning, how did you sleep, Ava?"

 

[JackHemingway]

I am sorry to say my partner no longer wishes to continue this thread, so I wish them well. If you've been reading for a long time (and according to the counter, many of you have, thank you), I'm open to running with this concept again. So, if you'd like to reboot and brainstorm, let me know. You can't always make it work, and that happens in relationships.

 

[JackHemingway]

New year, a new approach for anyone interested in starting this thread fresh.