Lydia
For the second time that day.
Jari came out of the bathroom, neatly clad in black trousers and a turtleneck made of such fine quality she despaired of herself.
Jari had told her that the Finns, and many Europeans, preferred buying a few extremely good pieces of clothing that would last for a long time, while Americans loved buying a multitude of different disposable outfits in a range of colors and styles.
“It is not a condemnation of either country’s tastes,” Jari had assured her, adding with extreme dignity, “If I were an American living in Boston, I would still secretly want to wear cowboy boots.”
Her cell buzzed. She gave it a quick look. Clay Waterson, not her boss, but her boss’s boss! She answered.
“Lydia Parsons. Just the girl I wanted to speak with.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. She checked her impulse to remind him she was not a girl. “Hello, Clay.”
“Listen up. Things have changed. Marion Winters, who opened the new Golden Tucson, just turned in her resignation.”
“I hope she’s okay.”
“She’s fine. Decided she wasn’t up for the job. She’s probably too old.”
Lydia rolled her eyes again. “Clay, she’s thirty-seven.”
“Whatever. She’s resigned. Which means—drumroll, please—we are making you the new general manager of the Golden Tucson. You need to get out to Tucson ASAP.”
Lydia was stunned. She sat—collapsed—into the chair by the desk. “Clay, I’m only working part-time. I’m not qualified for the general manager position.”
Clay laughed. “You are now. Emilio Huerta is your assistant. He’ll get you settled. I’ve emailed you the responsibilities and language. Your salary and benefits will be in the package. That’s all you need to know.”
“But, Clay, I need to finish spring semester so I can get my master’s.”
“Don’t worry about that. You don’t need another degree. You’re a smart cookie. We’ve had our eye on you. Congratulations.”
Lydia managed a weak “Thank you,” before Clay ended the call.
Jari stood near her, smelling as fresh as Lonkero, the Finnish cocktail made of gin and grapefruit soda.
“Shall we go?” he asked Lydia. “You promised to drive me around the island.”
She rose from the chair and held her hands out, as if asking a question. “Wait, Jari. I have to tell you something. That was Clay Waterson calling to tell me I’m going to be the general manager of Golden Tucson.”
“Congratulations,” Jari said.
“Really?” She tried to moderate her tone of voice. “Jari, it’s Tucson. Arizona. It’s so far away. I don’t know how we can keep…seeing each other.”
“We’ll work it out.”
His unrattled calm made her nearly insane. “Jari. You need to say more. You need to tell me how you feel.”
Jari shrugged. “I feel fine. I had a good night’s sleep.”
She could have slapped his face.
Instead, Lydia burst into tears. “I love you, I’ve told you that, and I’m dreaming of a future with you. Now I have to live in Arizona for—I don’t know how long! I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”
Jari frowned, as if he were trying to think of the Finnish word for emotion. Although Lydia didn’t know if a Finnish word for emotion actually existed.
“I’m very sorry you have to go away, but I know we’ll see each other often. We need more facts and then we can work out a plan.”
“What kind of plan?” she demanded.
“How can I know? You told me only just now. I’m based in Boston and spending some time in New York. You’ll be in Tucson. Both cities have excellent airports. We can fly to see each other on weekends, perhaps. Maybe your position there is temporary. Did Clay say it is permanent?”
Lydia wanted to pick up the television remote control and throw it at him. “Do you always have to be so logical?”
Jari put his hand to his forehead. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to tell me you love me more than your life and you will love me until the seas run dry!”
Jari jolted backward, looking alarmed. “I think you are overwrought.”
“Well, I think you are underwrought!” Lydia cried.
Jari stared at her. She could almost see his thoughts forming like algebraic equations.
He said carefully, “Perhaps I could hold you?”
“Yes, please,” Lydia said. But she did not move toward him.
Jari moved toward her. He took her in his arms and held her. Lydia nestled against him, savoring his strong warm embrace, his steadily beating heart, the even rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
Lydia smiled. “That’s not perfect, but it’s good enough—for now.” She pulled on her parka. “Let’s go out. I want to show you the island while it’s still light.”
They went down the stairs and out to the car parked on Easton Street. She’d taken her mother’s BMW SUV, because if they had time, Lydia wanted to drive Jari on the beach. Also, it was a really nice car. She thought Jari would like it.
Because everyone was in town for the Stroll, the roads were empty, and soon she was speeding—at forty-five miles an hour, the fastest you could drive on Nantucket—out to the eastern end of the island and the small village called ’Sconset.
She slowly drove him along the narrow lanes between the old wooden cottages that once had been fishermen’s shacks and now were summer homes.
They walked on the bluff path overlooking the Atlantic, and she hoped he’d be impressed by the enormous houses, but he said nothing.
“Let’s go down to the ocean,” she said, taking him back to the car.
It was only a couple of minutes’ drive down Gully Lane to the wide beach stretching beside the calmly rolling sea.
The air was clear and cold. Sandpipers and oystercatchers skittered on the edge of the waves and far out in the water a few seals bobbed up and down, but no other people were around.
It was quiet except for the waves’ soft sighs.
Jari still didn’t speak. Was he bored?
Lydia said, “It’s not always so empty here. In the summer, the beach is packed with sunbathers.”
“It is wonderful now,” Jari said, his voice very low.
“Oh! I’m glad you think so.”
“It makes me think of Finland,” Jari said. “We have many islands. Over seventy thousand. But the land is rock. Boulders. Few have sand beaches. We have many birds. And this…this serenity. We find it away from cities. This is rare in our world today.”
Jari seldom spoke about his home. Lydia remained silent but her heart was full to hear him tell her even this much.
They returned to the car and drove back to town on the Polpis road, stopping at a pullover to gaze out at Sesachacha Pond.
“In the summer, it’s a popular place to swim or even sail,” Lydia told him.
“I like it like this,” Jari told her. “Look, swans.”
Lydia started to tell him that swans mate for life, but she realized that he was glad not to talk, only to gaze out into the blue water where two snow-white swans idly drifted.
Jari wasn’t like most men she knew, men who constantly filled the silence with their voices and their egos.
She understood that this was a special moment for Jari.
A good moment. Even an important moment.
After a while, she said, “We’ve got to get back to town.”
“Thank you for this drive,” Jari said.
She smiled at him. He was so formal it was both amusing and touching. “You’re welcome.”
To Lydia’s surprise, Jari leaned over, cupped her chin in his hand, and kissed her.