10. Audrey
— ? —
Audrey
The Harbor Bistro is the only decent restaurant in Miller’s Point, which is both its blessing and its curse.
It’s packed on Saturday afternoon - families with sticky-fingered kids, elderly couples sharing bowls of chowder, teenagers taking up booths for hours with a single order of fries.
I’ve brought Lily here as a treat, a break from the cramped rental and the constant, careful dance of living with Rowan.
“Can I get the mac and cheese?” Lily asks, studying the menu like it’s a legal document. “The fancy kind with the breadcrumbs?”
“Sure, baby.”
“And a Shirley Temple?”
“Don’t push your luck.”
She grins, victorious, and goes back to coloring on her placemat. I watch her for a moment - the concentration on her face, the way her tongue pokes out when she’s focusing - and something in my chest loosens slightly.
She’s okay. Despite everything, she’s okay.
“Audrey Callahan?”
I look up. A man is standing beside our table - tall, kind-faced, early forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and the easy confidence of someone comfortable in his own skin.
“I thought that was you,” he says. “We met at the school fundraiser last spring. I’m Griffith Hale.”
It takes me a moment to place him. The silent auction. He’d bid on a weekend at someone’s lake house and made a joke about needing a vacation from his own restaurant.
“Right, yes. You own this place.”
“Guilty.” His smile is warm without being pushy, the smile of a man who’s learned to put people at ease. “I heard about the fire. I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?”
“We’re managing.” The automatic answer, the one I’ve been giving everyone. “Insurance is a nightmare, but we found a rental.”
“The Henderson place on Birch Street?”
“Word travels fast in Miller’s Point.”
“Always has.” He glances at Lily, who’s watching our exchange with open curiosity. “And this must be the famous Lily. Your mom showed me pictures of your science project at the fundraiser. The volcano, right?”
Lily lights up. “It exploded for real! We used too much baking soda and it went everywhere!”
“The best volcanos always do.” Griffith crouches down to her level, giving her his full attention. “I once made a baking soda volcano in my kitchen and it stained the ceiling. My mom was not happy.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
“So much trouble. But it was worth it.”
Lily giggles, and something about the easy way he talks to her - no condescension, no forced cheer - makes me look at him differently.
He’s good with kids. Natural.
“Anyway,” he says, straightening up. “I just wanted to say hello. If there’s anything you need - meals, whatever - you know where to find me.”
“That’s very kind. Thank you.”
He nods, starts to turn away, then pauses. “Actually, would you mind if I joined you for a minute? I’ve been on my feet all morning and I could use a break.”
I hesitate. Lily’s already nodding enthusiastically.
“Sure,” I say. “Of course.”
Griffith slides into the booth across from us, and I notice for the first time how tired he looks beneath the pleasant exterior. Lines around his eyes. The slight slump of his shoulders when he thinks no one’s watching.
“Running a restaurant is apparently terrible for your social life,” he says, catching my gaze. “I spend all day surrounded by people and somehow never actually talk to anyone.”
“I know that feeling.”
“Yeah?” He tilts his head, interested. “What do you do?”
“I’m an accountant. Remote work, mostly, since Lily started school. Spreadsheets don’t require much conversation.”
“Spreadsheets.” He makes a face. “I’m terrible at numbers. My ex-wife used to handle all that. After the divorce, I had to hire three different people to figure out what she did in an afternoon.”
“Divorce is hard.”
“It is.” He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t make it awkward. Just states it as fact. “But sometimes it’s the right thing. Sometimes staying is harder than leaving.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I focus on Lily’s placemat, where she’s coloring a lobster bright purple.
“Purple lobsters are the rarest ones,” she informs Griffith. “Only one in two million.”
“Is that true?”
“Mommy told me.”
“Then it must be.” He winks at me, and I feel my face flush slightly.
When was the last time someone winked at me?
Our food arrives - mac and cheese for Lily, a salad I don’t remember ordering for me - and Griffith excuses himself to check on something in the kitchen. But he’s back five minutes later with a Shirley Temple that he sets in front of Lily with a conspiratorial grin.
“Don’t tell your mom I said yes.”
Lily’s eyes go wide. “Thank you!”
“Griffith-” I start.
“It’s on the house. Consider it a housewarming gift for the new place.” He slides back into the booth. “I know it’s not much, but this town isn’t great at helping people after the crisis passes. Everyone shows up with casseroles the first week, and then...”
“And then life goes on.”
“Exactly.” He meets my eyes, and there’s something understanding in his gaze, something that sees more than I’m comfortable with. “How are you really doing, Audrey? Not the managing version. The real one.”
I open my mouth to deflect, to give him the polished answer I’ve been giving everyone.
Instead, I hear myself say: “I don’t know.”
Lily finishes her mac and cheese and asks if she can go look at the dessert case. I watch her skip across the restaurant, and when I turn back, Griffith is watching me.
“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”
“You didn’t dump anything. I asked.” He leans back in his seat. “For what it’s worth, ‘I don’t know’ is a perfectly valid answer. Probably more honest than most.”
“It doesn’t feel honest. It feels like failure.”
“Knowing what you don’t know isn’t failure. It’s the beginning of figuring things out.”
I study him - this man I barely know, who’s being kinder than I probably deserve. “You’re very philosophical for a restaurant owner.”
“I read a lot of self-help books after my divorce.” He grins, self-deprecating. “Mostly garbage, but occasionally something sticks.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. It feels strange in my throat, rusty from disuse.
“Listen,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “I don’t want to overstep. But my sister’s a real estate agent in Portland. If you’re ever looking for a fresh start - somewhere away from all of this - she could help.”
“That’s very kind, but Miller’s Point is home.”
“Is it?” The question isn’t accusatory, just curious. “Or is it just the place you’ve always been?”
I don’t have an answer for that.
“Sometimes home is the place we make,” he continues, “not the place we come from. Portland’s only an hour away. Good schools. Different scenery. Distance from-” He gestures vaguely. “Whatever you might need distance from.”
He knows. About Rowan, about the affair, about all of it. Of course he knows. Everyone in Miller’s Point knows.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say carefully.
“No pressure.” He pulls a card from his pocket, slides it across the table. “Just options. In case you want them.”
I take the card. His sister’s name, a Portland address, a phone number.
Options. When was the last time someone offered me options?
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.
“Anytime.” He stands, brushes off his jeans. “And Audrey? For what it’s worth - you seem like someone who deserves more than managing. You deserve actually happy.”
He walks back toward the kitchen, and I watch him go.
Actually happy. What would that even look like?
Lily returns with detailed opinions about which desserts we should try next time, and I tuck the card into my purse without looking at it again.
But I know it’s there. Waiting. A door I could walk through if I wanted.
If I wanted.