The Summer Swap

Chapter 13

Cecilia

She parked in a spot reserved only for staff of the gallery and lifted her precious parcel out of the car. Before she’d even closed the door a man appeared from the back of the gallery.

“This is private parking. I’m going to have to ask you to—” He broke off and stared. “Cecilia?”

“Hello, Seth. Good to see you, too.” She took pleasure in watching his jaw drop.

“No, it can’t be. Is it really you?”

“It’s me. I don’t have to ask if it’s you. You haven’t changed at all.” She closed the car door and watched as the scowl turned into a smile.

“I wasn’t expecting today to turn out differently from any other day, but that just goes to prove you can always be surprised. And you look fantastic.”

When she’d packed for her impromptu trip she’d swept clothes into her suitcase without much thought, but when she’d riffled through everything that morning in an attempt to find something suitable, she’d been surprised by the choice. In the end she’d teamed a linen dress in a pale powder blue with a lightweight jacket and a scarf she’d bought on a trip to Paris decades earlier. Because this meeting felt like the most important thing she’d done in a long time, she’d added a pair of dangly earrings and a touch of lipstick.

It was clear from his expression that her efforts hadn’t been wasted.

“What have you got there?” He narrowed his eyes as he saw what she was carrying. “I hope you’re going to tell me you’ve been painting and you’re here to let me sell your work.”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Pity. It always struck me as wrong that your husband got all the attention when you were the one with the talent. But I would say that, wouldn’t I? You were the one that got away, and that was all my own fault. I didn’t know a good thing when I had it. I’ve learned a thing or two since then.” He smiled without a trace of bitterness and opened the door wider. “Come in. Show me what you’ve got and tell me everything that has happened in the last fifty years.”

Had it been that long?

Yes, it probably had. Longer in fact. Once, they’d been close. The best of friends. And some friendships survived the years, of course, but some were just too complicated. Particularly those that had once been something more.

She’d loved two men in her life. One of those was Cameron, but before him it had been Seth.

She walked past him, her arm brushing against his, her heart beating a little faster than usual. She felt self-conscious and a little awkward,

Seth seemed to have changed little, which didn’t seem possible given the years that had passed. He was lean and wiry, his face tanned and lined from so many summers spent on the Cape, and his hair was mostly white now. But he was still handsome, and his smile was as wide and warm as when she’d first met him.

Holding the parcel in her arms, she scanned the walls of his gallery and felt the familiar feeling of being home. How she’d loved this place when she was young.

“It’s bigger than it was when your father owned it.”

“I bought the store next door. Knocked it through and increased the space. You approve?”

“It’s great.” She glanced around her, taking it all in. One painting immediately caught her eye. It was hung by itself, for maximum impact. She stepped toward the large canvas, where bright blues merged with pale gold. The title was simply Seashore.

Seth moved to stand next to her. “You’re not the only one to admire it. Sold it yesterday. They’re picking it up today. Local artist. She’ll be pleased.”

“You always did have a good eye.”

“I just take what I like. At home I surround myself with things I find beautiful. I don’t care if they’re unconventional or unfashionable. If I like to look at it, it can go on my wall. How long have you been back here, Ceci?”

He was the only one who had ever called her Ceci. It had irritated Cameron, who had felt it was an inappropriate intimacy. She’d often wondered if that was why Seth had done it.

Cameron had always been unsettled around Seth because Cecilia had been dating him before they’d met. They were part of a large group of artists who had moved in the same circles, caring about little except their art and the moment.

“I read that he died,” Seth said. “I wanted to call, but it seemed wrong after so many years. I wasn’t sure if hearing from me would make it feel worse or better.”

“You sent a card. Thank you for that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d even see it.”

“I saw it.” And kept it. It had given her comfort.

“Are you heartbroken, Ceci?”

How should she answer that?

“At times, yes. And at times I’m lost. Confused. And angry.” She couldn’t believe she’d just said that aloud, but this was Seth—Seth, who she’d once been close to, so maybe it wasn’t that surprising. And what she said was true. She was angry with Cameron for having lied to her again. Angry that he’d left it to his lawyer to tell her the truth about the cottage and the painting. One minute she wanted to sob, and the next she wanted to scream. He’d left her with so many unresolved feelings. But at least it didn’t seem that he’d been using the cottage as a love nest as she’d first feared. That helped. “How I feel changes all the time, which is a little unsettling if I’m honest. I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear this, I’m sure. When people ask how you are, what they really want to hear is I’m doing fine, thank you.”

“Not me. When I ask a question, I appreciate a frank answer.” There was no sign that her confession had shocked him. “Grief is a slippery beast. One minute it steps to one side to let you pass and just when you think you’re doing okay, it trips you up and you’re flat on your face again.”

That was it exactly.

She felt a pressure in her chest and a thickening in her throat. She was afraid she might lose control right here in this cool, contemporary gallery in front of this man she hadn’t seen in years.

“It was a complicated relationship.” Appalled, she felt emotion rush over her like the tide.

She needed to leave. She’d come back another time when she was more in control.

And then she felt Seth’s hand on her shoulder and his touch was both familiar and unfamiliar.

“Cameron was a complicated person. But isn’t everyone?” His fingers rubbed gently at the tight knots in her shoulders and then he smiled at her, lightening the moment. “I should never have let you go, Ceci. One of life’s big regrets.”

She saw the gleam in his eyes and remembered that his sense of fun was one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place.

He’d been her first real boyfriend. Her first everything. She’d been heartbroken when he’d ended their relationship.

Over the years she’d thought about him. When things had been bad with Cameron. In those low points, she’d occasionally wondered how her life might have looked if she and Seth had stayed together.

But what was the point of looking back and wondering? That was then, and this was now.

And she was determined to build a new life in the now, but she knew that to do that she had to acknowledge and accept everything that had gone before.

“I loved Cameron.”

“I know.” He let his hand drop and gave a soft laugh. “But I won’t hold that against you. No one is perfect. Are you staying in the cottage?”

“Yes.”

“It’s been empty for so long I wondered if you were ever coming back.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Had some heart problems ten years ago. Boring. I’m determined not to turn into one of those people who talk about ailments. But let’s just say that I changed my habits, or some of them at least. Since then, I exercise. Long walks. Sometimes those walks take me over the dunes to the cottage. I may have peeped through the window occasionally, for old times’ sake.”

She wondered if he thought about that time, as she did. It didn’t feel right to ask.

“I heard about Sonya.” She knew through the grapevine that he’d lost his wife ten years earlier. She’d never met Sonya, and she was curious about the woman who had convinced commitment phobic Seth to settle down. “I’m sorry. I should have contacted you.”

“Don’t apologize. I understand. We lost touch. Took me a few weeks to pluck up the courage to send you that card after Cameron died. It felt a little—inappropriate after so long. I suppose I didn’t really know what to say. I’m better with paint than words, but you already know that about me. I’m glad you’re here now. And you haven’t told me why. Judging from that parcel I’m guessing it’s business, not pleasure.”

“I hope it’s a little of both.” She’d forgotten how direct he was. It was refreshing.

He was different from Cameron in every way.

When Seth had ended their relationship she’d rebounded hard, turning to Cameron to heal the wound. She hadn’t expected the relationship to last. She hadn’t thought about the future, just the present. But then before she knew it, she and Cameron were an item. A couple. Their relationship was intense, and their love of art equally intense. They’d spent their days wrapped up in each other, needing no one else. Gradually the group of friends had thinned out as people had moved on to different things.

Seth had moved away and that had been the end of it, or so she’d thought.

But now she knew that despite the years, the connection was still there. The friendship was there. She felt it, and she saw it in his eyes. She’d forgotten how it felt to be looked at as if she was something special, but that was the way he was looking at her now.

His gaze lingered on hers and then he gestured. “Show me what you’ve got.”

The paintings. Of course. Her excuse for being here.

Now that the time had come, she felt a moment of doubt. What if she was wrong? What if Seth didn’t see what she saw?

She stood up straighter.

If that was the case, then Lily would never have to know.

She put the paintings down on the long countertop that stretched half the length of the gallery. It was early, so the place was still closed, but she could see people milling in the streets outside, enjoying the sunshine, browsing in shops and galleries.

“The town is busier than it was when we were young.”

“Everywhere is busier than when we were young. We have it all here now. A jazz festival, a film festival—you name it. It draws the crowds, although in winter the place is still mostly ours.” He stepped next to her and slid on his glasses, silent as he studied the paintings she carefully spread out.

She held her breath and watched him. Waited.

After a moment he glanced at her.

“I can feel you looking at me. It’s distracting.”

“I’m trying to read your expression.”

“I’ve been in this business for too long to let people read me. Even you.” He turned back to the paintings. “You didn’t paint these. I know your work.”

“No, I didn’t paint them.” But she was surprised that he would remember her style so well, given how many years it had been since they’d seen each other.

She didn’t tell him that she rarely painted now, that her garden was her outlet for creativity. Time for that later. For now, she wanted to focus on Lily.

He lifted one and propped it against the wall before standing back. “It’s extraordinary, but you already know that, or you wouldn’t have brought them here. Why me? You have contacts everywhere.”

“Because your opinion matters to me. And you have flawless taste.”

“You flatter me.” He gave a faint smile. “Tell me about her. What’s the story? Not art college.”

“How do you know it’s a ‘her’?”

“Educated guesswork.”

“The first thing to tell you is that she doesn’t know I’m showing you these.”

Seth’s gaze was still on the paintings. “If they are all as good as this then she’ll have to know soon enough. It would be a crime to store these in a dusty closet. What else?”

“She reminds me a little of myself at the same age.”

He turned his head, and she could see that she had his attention.

“You mean oblivious to her own talent?”

Had she been oblivious? “I’d say unsure of her own talent.”

“Now I’m really curious,” he said. “Show me the rest.”

They spent an hour, heads close, studying and observing, exchanging thoughts and the conversation energized her more than anything had over the past year.

Seth scribbled a few notes on a pad. “I’m old-school,” he said when she remarked on it.

At some point Seth’s assistant opened up the gallery and immediately people wandered in, drawn to the art and the sculptures, keen to take a small reminder of the Outer Cape home with them.

Seth greeted them politely but left his assistant to deal with sales and queries so that he could stay with Cecilia.

“When can I meet her? Your artist.”

Cecilia felt a ripple of anxiety. She hadn’t thought further than this moment. “I’ll talk to her. See what she says.” What would she say? Would Lily be upset that Cecilia had taken her paintings without her permission?

“I’ll meet her anywhere that suits her.” He gathered the paintings together. “And now tell me about you. What are you doing now?”

“I’m spending some time at the cottage.”

“I meant right now.”

“Oh—nothing.” She felt herself flush. “I mean—I’ve done it. I came here.”

“Good. Then have lunch with me.”

“Lunch?” The invitation flustered her. It had been so many years since they’d seen each other. So many years since their lives had been intertwined.

“Why not? We can catch up properly. There’s a new beach restaurant that serves the best lobster rolls. We can buy ourselves a picnic and eat it at the beach.”

A beach picnic. As if they were teenagers and not two sensible adults in their seventies.

She felt as if she should say no, but why? Her life was her own, to be lived in the way she chose. There was no one she needed to consult. And when had she last had a picnic? When had she last done anything just for the simple joy of it? If she wanted to start exploring a new life, without Cameron, then this seemed like a good place to start.

“A picnic sounds fun. Can you spare the time? Leave this place?”

“I employ good staff.” He nodded to his assistant and to a girl who was currently discussing a painting with a customer. “I’ll be back later, Francine.”

She was young. Cecilia judged her to be a little younger than Hannah and Lily.

“Francine is elegant. Incredible bone structure. Have you painted her?”

“No. These days I focus more on other people’s work than my own. She’s the daughter of an artist friend of mine. Her mother is French. They live in Paris part of the time, but they’re over here for the summer and Francine is helping me out. She is the assistant of my assistant, which makes me feel important. Let me pack a bag and then we’ll go. Does a picnic rug work for you or would you rather a chair?”

She laughed. “Forty years of yoga, Seth, some excellent health genes and a splash of good fortune. A rug is just fine.”

They picked up fresh lobster rolls and artisan coffee and took them to the beach, finding a spot away from the crowds. Cecilia didn’t mind the crowds. She’d always been a people watcher. Her mind wandered. “I painted this scene once. A couple on a rug reading, a child building a sandcastle, someone flying a kite.”

“I remember it. A red ball in the foreground.”

She turned to him, astonished. “You remember that?”

“I remember all of it. They were happy times.”

They were happy times.

She felt the sun on her face and the sand under her feet and felt lighter than she had in years. As you traveled through life you picked up scars and damage and baggage, and the weight of it could be crushing. But here, she was transported back to those early days when life had been uncomplicated.

“I love it here.”

“Me, too. I love it even more at five thirty in the morning when I have the place to myself.” He spread the rug on the sand, and she slid off her shoes and settled down. For a moment she felt like her twenty-year-old self.

“That’s the best time of day. The light. Salty air. The sound of the ocean.”

They shared a look, a memory, and then he handed her a napkin.

“Here.”

“Never saw you as the napkin type. Did Sonya finally domesticate you? Seth, who never intended to settle down? Seth, who didn’t even want to plan what he was doing that evening, let alone for the next twenty years?” The gentle teasing came naturally, which surprised her because after so many years their relationship shouldn’t feel this comfortable, surely?

“To an extent, she did.” His smile was an acknowledgment of his past self. “People change, don’t they? But I’ve been on my own for ten years. It’s funny how doing your own laundry can motivate a guy. Also, you’re wearing a pale blue dress and although my fashion expertise is limited, I’m guessing it isn’t compatible with the contents of a lobster roll.”

“It’s not precious. Clothes are to be worn.” She didn’t say that she’d forgotten she even owned this dress. That she’d grabbed it when her mind was on Cameron and the Cape and secrets.

“It suits you. You look good, Ceci.”

For a moment she was worried he might think she’d chosen her outfit especially for him, and then she realized that she had chosen it for him. And what was wrong with him knowing that?

“You and Sonya lived here the whole time?”

“We had a house in Brewster. A year after she died, I sold it and used the money to convert the space above the gallery into an apartment. Didn’t see the point in rattling around in a house that was too big for me.”

She empathized with the lost feeling that was so much a part of grief. “It’s hard, I know.”

“Yes. And moving was hard, but it turned out to be the right thing to do. In the house I always felt as if something was missing, which of course it was. She was. Moving to a new place has helped me feel—” he paused “—more ‘me’ I suppose. Less ‘us.’ It’s not about replacing what went before, it’s about adding to it. Creating something new. If that makes sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.” It was what she needed to do. Discover who she was without Cameron. “And you’ve done that.”

He nodded. “Not that I’m suggesting it was easy. My girls have been wonderful. The grandchildren have helped. Try the roll,” he said, handing it to her. “I can guarantee you won’t have tasted anything better. You’re still living in that enormous place outside Boston?”

“Yes. Ridiculous, I know.” She spread the napkin across her lap.

“I don’t think so. It’s early days. Doesn’t pay to make big decisions too quickly, or so everyone told me.”

She’d made no decisions. Apart from removing Cameron’s paintings from her bedroom, she’d basically frozen her life. But now it was time to change that.

She felt a new sense of purpose. She’d been trying to work out how to push Cameron into the background, but what she should have been doing was working out how to step into the foreground. This wasn’t about him. It was about her.

She thought about the planner Todd had given her. At the time she’d thought she’d have no use for it, but now she wondered whether she might have been wrong about that.

She nibbled at the roll. It tasted just the way she remembered. Sweet and satisfying.

“This is good. While I’m savoring it, tell me everything about you.”

“You go first, although I know some of it of course because you’re pretty much a public figure. I bet you hated that.”

The fact that he knew her that well, warmed her. “Tell me what you know, and I’ll fill in the blanks.”

“You had two children. Boy and a girl.”

“Yes.” She told him about Kristen and Winston, and about her grandchildren and he told her about his two girls, and their two girls.

“I’m surrounded by women.”

She smiled. “And you love it.”

“Yes. And they’re good people. The girls helped me clear out the house and make a fresh start here, and they visit frequently. Helps that I live by the beach of course. The grandkids love that. They’re still at the age where making sandcastles is fun. And now let’s get to the real stuff. Why haven’t you been back to the cottage before now?”

She could have skirted over the truth. She could have muttered something about being busy, about the time never being right, but this was Seth. Seth, who had once meant everything to her. Seth, who had known Cameron and who had known her in those early days.

And so she told him everything. She told him about the affair, about the almost divorce and the rocky times that had followed.

“Even good relationships go through rocky times, but an affair—” He broke off and muttered something under his breath. “I always knew you were too good for him. Did it happen more than once?”

“He told me that it didn’t.”

“And you believed him?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to. We made it work for the children, and by the time the children left home we’d fallen into a rhythm. It’s a funny thing. You think you know exactly what you’d do when faced with a certain situation, but when you find yourself in that situation it isn’t always so clear.”

“Who was she?”

“A girl who modeled for him. He said that it shouldn’t have happened, but she was there—he was flattered by her attention. I believed that part. Cameron was insecure. He suffered from terrible imposter syndrome. Even when his work started to sell, when he became famous and sought-after—he never quite believed it. He needed constant reassurance that he was as good as people said he was. He didn’t believe in himself.” She almost said more, but she stopped herself. No matter how honest she could be with Seth, there were some confidences she wouldn’t break. Some secrets that were best kept. “When he was in public, he was a different person. Confident. Once he was simply an artist alone with a canvas the insecurity would hit.”

Seth finished his roll and wiped his fingers. “So that was his excuse for the affair. Insecurity.” He looked at her steadily. “You deserved better.”

“I thought so, too, which was why I asked him to leave.” She told him about the accident. Those horrific nights in the hospital, and the aftermath. “Kristen always blamed me. Our relationship never really recovered, even when Cameron and I were truly back together. She was always Daddy’s girl.”

“Did she know about the affair?”

“No. She was too young, and as she grew up I could never bring myself to shatter the image she had of her father. They worked closely together. She worshipped him. And Cameron was an excellent father. Engaged and hands-on, even when his work was demanding. I could never fault him for that.”

“And you didn’t want to tarnish their view of him.” He sighed. “You’re a good person, Cecilia.”

“Oh no, not at all. There were plenty of times when I wanted to tell her—I had a childish desire to see her affections transferred to me. But common sense held me back. Fortunately, because I don’t think telling the truth would have been helpful for anyone.”

“You don’t think she suspected?”

“I don’t think so.”

“And how about now? You’re not close?”

She thought about Kristen laughing with Jeff. Kristen and Theo. The fact that she hadn’t known that Michael had been killed. “We see each other regularly. She’s attentive. Dutiful I suppose. But we don’t talk about anything deep. And that’s my fault.” She felt a stab of regret. She should have done better. She’d resolved to do better, which was why she’d finally called Kristen. And it had been a good conversation, even though Kristen had told her little about how she was feeling. It was obvious that she’d been surprised that her mother had called. Even more surprised that she was asking how she was. Cecilia had found a mention of Michael’s accident on a local news site, so there had been no need to reveal that the information had come from Todd.

It was going to take a while to shift their relationship into a better place, but Cecilia was determined to try. She’d even thought about inviting her to the Cape for a few days, but in the end she hadn’t. It would trigger too many questions that Cecilia wasn’t ready to answer. And, anyway, it sounded as if Theo needed her.

Seth was watching her. “Why are you blaming yourself?”

“For the fact that Kristen and I aren’t closer? I think for a while I resented her.” Another thing she’d never said aloud before.

“For being a daddy’s girl?”

“No. For being the reason I didn’t divorce him. Believe me, I thought about it. Before the accident I was going to do it. But after the accident...” Remembering made her shudder. “It felt as if I would have been sacrificing her happiness for mine.”

“So instead you sacrificed yours for her.”

“It felt that way for a while. But in the end things settled down. I should probably be grateful to her for being the reason we stayed together. I don’t regret it. Despite everything, we had a wonderful life together.”

He was silent for a moment. “I often thought about you, and hoped you were happy.”

She felt something shift inside her.

Lately, ever since the lawyer had presented her with the letter and the key to Dune Cottage, she’d been more focused on the bad than the good but talking to Seth had made her remember the good.

She and Cameron had shared a love of art of course, but their relationship had been based on so much more than that. They saw the world in a similar way, and they understood each other. It was Cameron who had insisted they buy Lapthorne Manor rather than a more convenient home in the city, because he’d known how much she would enjoy designing the gardens. In the end it had become a joint project, with Cameron using the results of her careful planting as inspiration for some of his work. She’d written a book on garden design, illustrated with her own photographs and some of Cameron’s paintings. It was precisely because she’d loved him so much that the affair had been so devastating.

“We had many happy years. And a few unhappy ones. But isn’t that life?”

“Yes, it is. And all you can do is enjoy the good parts and survive the bad,” he said. “Why did you stop painting?”

“At first, because I was busy. Life was busy. And I discovered that I preferred to be creative in other ways. I have a beautiful garden. It brings me as much joy as anything I ever painted. I enjoy watching it change and evolve with the seasons.”

He stared out to sea. “Sonya loved your book. She copied a few ideas for our own garden, although it was nowhere near as grand of course.”

“She did?”

“Yes. And when she was sick, the garden was the place where she found joy—” his voice was rough “—so I should probably thank you for that.”

She felt a flash of sympathy, but the idea that she might have brought pleasure to someone else through her garden design pleased her. “Art doesn’t only have to be the process of splashing paint on a canvas.”

“That’s true.” He let go of her hand. “And Cameron went down the traditional route. I read the story of how his career took off—a local exhibition. He submitted one painting.”

Cecilia felt her heart beat a little faster.

“That was all that was permitted. But he was lucky. The work caught the attention of a gallery director from Boston. The rest is history.”

He gave her a long look. “Sounds almost too good to be true. The whole damned fairy tale.”

“Like many things in life there was an element of luck involved. Cameron was aware of that. He caught a break, but he was careful not to waste it. He worked it hard.”

“You mean that if he hadn’t had a painting that he could submit—”

“He wouldn’t have been considered. Exactly. He made the most of an opportunity.” She wiped her fingers on the napkin.

“Tell me more about those early paintings. How did he choose just one? When we knew each other, Cameron was all over the place. Full of doubt. He used to destroy canvases all the time. Remember the painting he threw into the ocean?”

“I remember.” She’d rescued it, but it had been too late. It wasn’t the first or last time he’d destroyed a painting he wasn’t happy with.

“But he had a painting he was happy with, ready to go. That was lucky.” Seth opened a bottle of sparkling water and poured some into a cup. “Where is that painting now?”

She took the cup from him. “I expect it was sold. I lose track. It seems so long ago now. Why did you give up painting?”

“My father had a stroke and needed help running the gallery. I stepped in to help and discovered I enjoyed it. I painted a little, but the truth is I preferred working with artists to being one myself. I don’t get anywhere near the level of excitement gazing at my own canvas that I do gazing at someone else’s.” He poured water into his own cup. “So, if your marriage settled down again, why didn’t you come back to the cottage when it was such a special place for you both?”

“I think precisely because it was a special place. It felt tainted. We were trying to move on, and I associated the cottage with her. With betrayal and lies. I wanted him to sell it. He promised me he had.”

“Given that the cottage is still there and you’re staying in it, I’m assuming he didn’t. And in the spirit of honesty, I must confess that in my opinion selling something so special would have been a terrible thing.”

“At the time the terrible thing was discovering that he hadn’t. That he’d lied to me again. Rebuilding the trust after the affair wasn’t easy. This felt like another betrayal.”

“I can imagine.” He drank the water. “When did you find out?”

“After he died.” She thought back to the day the lawyer had given her the envelope. “He left me a note and a key.”

Seth gave a low whistle. “He kept it? Why?”

“Obviously my first thought was that he was using it as some sort of love nest, but I’ve discovered since that the cottage has never been used. No one has stayed there.”

“But he had it maintained.”

“Yes. For all those years.”

He put his cup down. “What do your family think?”

“They don’t know. No one knows about my connection to the cottage, apart from the lawyer and now Lily, who was caretaking the place.”

“Lily is your artist?”

“How did you guess that?”

“Your protective tone. Why didn’t you tell your family?”

“They didn’t know the cottage existed, and it would have been impossible to tell them about it without revealing parts of our relationship history that I didn’t want to reveal. I thought I could come back without anyone knowing. But I didn’t really think it through. It was naive of me to think I could hide it.” She sighed. “Yesterday, my grandson showed up to check on me. He tracked my phone, which was a possibility that hadn’t occurred to me.”

“Why would he feel the need to check on you?”

“Because he was concerned. I disappeared from my own party, you see. Or rather, I didn’t exactly disappear as much as leave. But I told no one where I was going.”

“You wanted to come here on your own.”

“Exactly. I knew that if I told them about this place, someone would insist on being with me and this was something I had to do by myself. I didn’t know how I’d feel.”

“And how did you feel?”

She thought about the smashed frames. The broken glass. “Emotional. I was angry. I came here intending to do what Cameron should have done—sell the place.”

“And now?”

“Now?” She took a sip of water and stared out to sea. “Now I don’t know. I was angry, but when I discovered no one had used it, I felt better. I don’t understand why he didn’t tell me about it, but I do know he wasn’t using it as a place to entertain women. Knowing that changed the way I felt. It helped. Talking to you has helped, too. You’ve made me remember things that perhaps I’d forgotten. Talking to you has given me some clarity.”

She’d been determined to sell the cottage, but now she wasn’t sure. She felt a tug of regret. They’d had happy times there. Was that why Cameron had been unable to sell it?

“You don’t need to decide right away, surely? There’s no hurry.” He took her hand again and she felt a flush of warmth as she stared down at their locked fingers.

“It’s been years, Seth.”

“So? A friendship isn’t measured by time, it’s measured by depth of feeling. My feelings for you haven’t changed.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

“We’ve just had lunch.”

“So? You’ll be hungry again by dinnertime.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I know that wasn’t what you meant. Now you’re here, I don’t want you to disappear again back to Boston. I want to spend time with you.”

She gently removed her hand from his. She hadn’t given much thought to how long she’d be staying. She was taking it day by day.

“I’m not disappearing yet, but if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, then it’s—too soon, Seth.”

He smiled. “I’m seventy-six, Ceci. There is no such thing as too soon, only too late. And I don’t want to leave it too late. Neither do you. And it’s not as if this is a new relationship. Two dates in one day are perfectly acceptable when two people have known each other for as long as we have.” As always, he made her laugh.

“You always were impossible to argue with. And sure of yourself.”

“About some things. Not about others. Dinner. Your place. I’ll bring the wine. I’ll bring the food, too, if that helps sway the odds in my favor.”

She thought about Lily. Todd. The explanations. “You’re forgetting I have houseguests.” And she was still adjusting to that. She’d come to the cottage expecting to be alone and suddenly she was sharing the space with two people. But it was hard to feel sorry about that when they were both such delightful people.

He nodded. “In that case I’ll cook. Come and see my apartment.”

It was tempting. “Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

She laughed. “Do you ever give up, Seth?”

“I did that once, and I’ve always regretted it. It’s not going to happen again.”

She felt something stir inside her and she wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement. Maybe a mixture of both. What did this mean? Where would it lead? He’d broken her heart once before.

She almost laughed at herself. She should be long past the stage of guarding her heart, surely?

“Not tomorrow, but soon.” She immediately felt nervous. “What am I going to say to Lily and Todd?”

He laughed. “I think you’re past the age of making excuses for being out late at night.”

“Maybe.”

But an explanation would be expected, she knew that.

And that could be awkward. Even more awkward would be explaining to Lily what she’d done with her paintings.