2. Etta
ETTA
I'd cleared next Sunday with Yolanda before I asked for it.
Dawn tide. Three hours. One morning on the water with my husband.
I'd picked the week he had no travel. I'd checked his calendar twice. I'd looked at the almanac for the tides and found the one morning everything lined up. Yolanda had said yes when I asked if she could cover the pull without even asking why.
The plan was small on purpose. Small enough that saying yes would cost him nothing at all.
I wanted three hours. That was it. Not a trip, not a promise. Just one Sunday morning on the water, the two of us, like we used to before Scandinavia and the new boats and the certifications that kept him traveling more than he was home.
I started cooking at three. Chicken with lemon and thyme, the way he liked it. Roasted carrots with honey. Rice the way his mother had taught me that first Christmas we were married, with butter and a pinch of saffron that turned it golden.
I set the long table in the dining room instead of the island in the kitchen. Pulled down the good plates, the ones that had been my mother's. Set out the wine glasses. The linen napkins I only used for company.
I opened the wine his mother had given us years ago, from the case she'd sent that first Christmas. I set it out to breathe.
I even set the far end of the table. The place nobody used.
I'd done it out of habit for so long I didn't think about why anymore. Every time I set the table, I laid that place. Every time. Yolanda had seen me do it a hundred times and she'd never said a word about it.
The house smelled like rosemary and butter when I heard his car in the driveway.
I wiped my hands on the towel and turned toward the door.
It opened.
"Etta."
He had his jacket over one arm. His phone in his other hand. And Simone Astala was standing behind him with two people I didn't know.
I went still.
"I should have called," Sven said. "This is Kari and Leena Virtanen, from Helsinki. We've been working on the Scandinavia distribution for six months now and they're only here until tomorrow. Simone suggested we go over the delivery schedule here instead of the office."
Simone smiled at me. Her hair was pulled back tight the way she always wore it. Sharp cheekbones. Pale blue eyes that looked like sea ice.
"I hope this isn't an imposition," she said warmly.
I looked at the table behind me. At the two place settings. At the wine I'd opened for us.
"Of course not," I said.
Sven kissed my cheek as he walked past. "It smells wonderful in here."
I watched him head into the dining room with Simone and the Virtanens behind him. I heard him ask if anyone wanted wine. Heard Simone laugh at something Kari said in Finnish.
I turned back to the stove.
I pulled down four more plates.
Kari and Leena sat across from Simone at the long table. Sven was at the head. I sat at the far end with the empty place beside me, the one I'd set this morning without thinking about it. I looked at it for a moment. The plate, the napkin, the silverware all laid just so.
Nobody else seemed to notice.
I served the food and poured water and sat down while they talked about tonnage and freight schedules and processors in Maryland that could handle the volume they needed.
Simone had a folder open in front of her. She was fluent in the numbers. She knew every shipment date, every certification requirement, every detail of the supply chain they'd been building.
Sven leaned over to look at something she'd marked on the page. Their heads were close for a moment. Then he nodded and sat back.
"Winter delivery start," he said. "We'll hit two-twenty thousand pounds in the first month and scale from there."
Leena nodded and made a note on her phone.
I looked down at my plate.
"This is delicious," Kari said. He was looking at me. "You made all of this tonight?"
"Yes."
"On no notice?"
"I had most of it ready."
It wasn't true. But he smiled like he believed me.
Leena leaned forward. "Sven told us you run a lease. Oysters?"
"Forty acres in Kettle Sound," I said. "My grandfather opened it in sixty-one."
Kari set his fork down. "And you work it yourself?"
"I do. We have eleven shuckers. Most of them worked for my mother before me."
"She passed?" Leena asked gently.
"Nine years ago."
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
Kari was still watching me. "You're on the water every day?"
"Six days a week."
"What time?"
"Four. Four-thirty if the tide's running later."
Leena shook her head. "Every morning?"
"Yes."
"That's remarkable."
Simone smiled. "Etta's operation is very impressive. A real legacy business."
I looked at her. She looked back, warm and professional, and reached for her wine.
Kari didn't look away from me. "How do you manage the beds?"
"By hand, mostly."
"Not with machines?"
"No. I know every bar out there. I can tell which one an oyster came from just by tasting it."
He raised his eyebrows. "You're joking."
"I'm not."
"The minerals?" Leena asked.
"The minerals, the salinity, the way the water moves through the marsh. You learn to read it."
Kari laughed. "I believe you."
Leena leaned in. "What's the salinity here?"
"Fifteen to eighteen parts per thousand. Lower than the ocean, higher than the rivers. It's why our oysters taste the way they do."
"And you can really taste the difference between one bed and another?"
"I can."
Kari shook his head. "That's incredible."
"Sven, you didn't tell us your wife was an expert," Leena said.
Sven smiled. "She is. She's been on the water since she was a girl."
"How old were you when you started?" Kari asked me.
"Six. My grandfather took me out the first time. I've been going ever since."
"And you never wanted to do anything else?"
"No. This is what I know."
For four minutes I was the most interesting person at that table.
They asked how I worked the bars. What I looked for. How I knew when to pull and when to let them grow. I told them about the feel of the shells when they were ready. The weight change you learned to recognize. The way the water shaped everything if you paid attention.
"Do you use any technology?" Leena asked. "GPS, depth sensors?"
"I use the tide charts. That's about it."
"You know where everything is just from memory?"
"I've been working those same forty acres for nine years. Before that I worked them with my mother. You learn where things are."
I felt myself sitting up straighter. I loved this work. I always had.
And Sven was right there, listening to them find me impressive.
"You love what you do," Leena said. "I can tell."
"I do."
"It shows."
I looked down the table at my husband. He was watching me. He smiled.
Simone set her glass down gently.
"It's a beautiful operation," she said. Her voice was warm.
"Small-scale, hand-worked, very artisanal.
But the challenge with Scandinavia is volume.
Magnussen needs consistent landed weight, certified processing, temperature-controlled logistics from the dock to the cargo hold.
That's what we've been building with the Maryland facilities. "
She looked at Sven. "Two hundred thousand pounds a month to start, right?"
"Two-twenty by winter," he said. "We'll scale from there depending on demand."
Kari turned back to Simone. "And the certifications?"
"Everything you need for EU import compliance," she said. "It's all ready to go."
Leena made another note on her phone.
The conversation moved on.
I sat there with my fork in my hand and listened to them talk about freight routes and cold storage and tariff schedules.
Simone spoke in English and Finnish both, moving between languages like it was nothing.
She'd pull out her phone to show them a document and they'd nod and she'd translate something for Kari and Sven would add a timeline.
She was good at her job. Anyone could see that.
I looked at Sven. He was listening to her the way you listen to someone you trust completely.
I looked back down at my plate.
They stayed for another hour after the food was gone. I cleared the dishes and brought out coffee on a tray with cream and sugar.
Simone reached for the pot before I could set it down.
"Let me," she said.
She poured for Kari first. Then Leena. Then Sven.
She added cream to his cup without asking and stirred it once.
She knew how he took his coffee.
When they finally left, Simone touched Sven's arm at the door and said something I couldn't hear. He smiled at whatever it was.
I was already upstairs.
The bedroom window was open.
It was always open. I'd never been able to sleep without it. Not as a child, not now. I needed the sound of the water.
I stood there and looked out at Kettle Sound. The lights from Magnussen's plant were bright across the way. One of the trawlers was coming in late and I could see its running lights moving slowly through the dark.
I heard Sven's footsteps on the stairs a long time later.
He came into the bedroom and saw me by the window.
"That went well," he said.
I didn't answer.
He sat on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"
"You brought them here without telling me."
"It was last-minute. They're only in town until tomorrow and Simone thought it would be easier to work here instead of going back to the office."
"I made supper for us."
"And it was excellent. Kari's still talking about the chicken."
I looked at him. "I wasn't cooking for Kari."
He was quiet for a moment.
"Etta, it was a business dinner."
"You didn't tell me."
"I didn't know until this afternoon."
"You could have called."
"I should have." He said it gently. "You're right. I'm sorry."
I wanted that to be enough. I wanted to let it go.
"She steered them away from me," I said.
"Who?"
"Simone. They were asking about the lease and she shut it down."
"She didn't shut anything down. She brought the conversation back to the deal we've been working on for six months. That's her job."
"And you backed her."
"Etta." He stood up. His voice was calm.
Steady. "They weren't here to talk about your forty acres.
They're here because Magnussen is opening a direct line into Scandinavia and we're three weeks from signing a contract that took half a year to build.
Simone's been running point on this since we started.
She knows the product, the certifications, every timeline.
She's the reason we're even at this table. "
"I wasn't trying to get in the way."
"I know you weren't."
"Then why does it feel like I did?"
He looked at me for a long moment.
"You're reading something into this that isn't there," he said quietly. "It was a business dinner. That's all it was."
I turned back to the window.
He came up behind me. Not close enough to touch. Just close enough that I could feel him there.
"I wanted to ask you something tonight," I said.
"What?"
"Next Sunday. Early. I checked the tide and it's perfect at dawn. Six-thirty. Yolanda said she can cover the morning pull. I thought we could take the boat out. Just the two of us. Three hours. We'd be back by nine."
He was quiet.
I turned to look at him.
"I can't," he said.
"You don't have travel. I checked your calendar."
"I have calls scheduled."
"With who?"
"The Helsinki distributor. Simone set them up weeks ago. We're finalizing the contract."
"Could you move them?"
"Etta." He said my name like I was being unreasonable. "These are international calls. There's a time zone issue. I can't just reschedule."
"It's one morning."
"It's an important morning. This deal has been six months in the making."
I looked back out the window.
"I made it easy," I said quietly. "I picked the one week you're not traveling. I cleared it with Yolanda so you wouldn't have to worry. I checked everything."
"And I appreciate that. But I can't."
"Three hours, Sven."
"I know. And I wish I could. But not next Sunday."
I didn't say anything.
"Why is this so important?" he asked.
Because I miss you. Because we used to do this and we don't anymore. Because I want three hours where it's just us and the water and nothing else.
Because I'm lonely.
I didn't say any of that.
"Never mind," I said.
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Reading things into nothing. Tonight was a working supper. That's all. Simone was doing her job and I was doing mine and you're taking it personally when it's not personal."
"She steered the conversation away from me the second they got interested."
"She steered it back to the deal. That's what I pay her to do."
"At your own table?"
"It was a working supper, Etta. That's what working means."
He stepped closer.
"I know you work hard," he said. "I know you're up at four every morning and I know it's not easy. But you're imagining things that aren't there. You're looking for reasons to be hurt."
I couldn't speak.
He reached out and took my hand. His hand was warm. It always was.
"Let me get somebody in for you," he said. "You shouldn't have to be up at four."
I pulled my hand back.
"A manager," he said. "Someone who knows the water. Someone who can handle the crew and the harvest schedule. You've been doing this alone since your mother died. That's nine years, Etta. You don't have to keep carrying it by yourself."
He said it like he'd been thinking about it for a while. Like he was proud of himself for solving something.
"I don't want a manager."
"Why not?"
Because it's mine. Because I love it. Because it's the only thing I have that's mine and I'm good at it and I don't want someone else's hands on it.
Because you just watched people be interested in me for four minutes and the first thing you want to do is take it away.
Because I don't want a manager. I want you. I want three hours on the water with my husband. I want one Sunday morning where you're mine and not on a call with Helsinki.
I didn't say any of that.
"I like being up at four," I said.
"Etta—"
"I don't need fixing."
He blinked. "I'm not trying to fix you. I'm trying to help."
"I don't need help."
"Everyone needs help. There's no shame in it."
I looked at him. At his face. At the kindness in his eyes. At the way he was standing there, waiting for me to see reason.
He meant it. He thought he was helping.
"I'm tired," I said.
He nodded. "Okay. We can talk about this later."
"Sure."
He kissed the top of my head. Then he went into the bathroom. I heard the water running. Heard him brushing his teeth.
I walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the guest room at the end. The one nobody ever used.
I closed the door behind me and locked it.