Well, he was nice to look at.
Ryder Hastings was nice to look at, too.
She reached for her phone on the bedside table. Yesterday he had answered her text canceling dinner with a brief: Maybe sometime next week?
She had texted: I’ll probably be on Nantucket.
So will I, he replied.
Since then, nothing new from him, and why should there be, she hadn’t contacted him. Would she? Closing her eyes, she remembered how he had kissed her in his Tesla. What she’d felt for Ryder Hastings as they kissed, and what had lingered during the drive to Boston, was deeper than what she’d ever felt before. More dimensional.
Ha, Juliet said to herself, throwing back the covers and sitting up in bed. More delusional would be the correct word. She’d always known she didn’t want to follow the traditional path, love, marriage, children. She’d always wanted to make a difference in the world, and while Kazaam hadn’t actually brought world peace, she knew from comments on the website that her posts of dogs who had been mistreated and rescued and given a good home had brought a moment of joy and belief in the goodness of people. Maybe that was an event of little significance, but still, it counted.
She pulled on a pair of leggings to wear with the Red Sox tee she slept in, slid her feet into flip-flops, and went down the stairs, carrying her laptop with her. In Cambridge, she often waited until noon to dress, working in bed or on her sofa in a robe and slippers. She smelled the tantalizing aroma of coffee coming from the kitchen and headed toward it.
Her mother was in the kitchen.
“You look nice, Mom,” Juliet said, kissing Lisa on the cheek.
“Nice,” Lisa echoed, and smiled.
“What? You want your daughter to say you look like a babe?” Juliet poured herself a cup of coffee and settled in a kitchen chair. “Speaking of men—”
Lisa interrupted. “I didn’t realize we were speaking of men. And I need to open the shop.”
“So you don’t want to hear about the time I spent with Ryder Hastings?”
“The time you spent with Ryder Hastings?” Lisa echoed. “I do want to hear about that.”
“After his lecture, somehow we were on the same boat back and he offered to drive me up to Cambridge in his Tesla.”
“Go on.” Lisa folded her arms and leaned against the sink.
“He asked me out to dinner. I accepted. But then Theo arrived and we wanted to come down here, so I texted him to cancel.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it. He hasn’t called back.”
“Do you want him to?”
“Of course I want him to! He’s all the things, Mom. Smart and rich and charming.”
Lisa looked worried.
Oh God, Juliet thought, she’s going to get all anxious and tell me that smart and rich and charming aren’t the best qualities in a husband, my father was smart, rich, and charming and look what happened to them…
“Isn’t he a lot older than you are?” Lisa asked, making herself all bright-eyed and chirpy, like a sweet bird on a branch.
“Isn’t Mack a lot younger than you are?” Juliet countered.
“Touché,” Lisa said, with a genuine smile. She pulled her large leather bag over her shoulder and kissed Juliet on the forehead. “I do have to open the shop. We’ll talk more, later.” She went out the back door into the day.
Juliet stood at the open door, soaking in the sweetness of the morning.
“Must run,” she told herself and tore up the stairs to put on a sports bra, a loose T-shirt, and running shoes. No iPod, no music in her earbuds. Simplicity.
This was what she needed. It worked every time, clearing her head, getting away from electronics, enjoying the weather on this beautiful island. She hurried downstairs, opened the front door, checked her Fitbit, and headed off.
It felt good to run. June was a gentle time, with hydrangea blooming and roses budding. She zigzagged along the narrow streets down the hill to the town pier where sailboats, Boston Whalers, and fishing boats bobbed in the breezy waters. And now she was home, really back home. When she was younger, she went to Cisco and Dionis with her friends for parties, but the town pier and the small beach patrolled by gulls and mallards felt like her very own. Here, the water was translucent, the ducks paddling along complacently, the wooden dock scattered with shells the gulls had dropped from a great height to break open so they could swoop down and seize the sweet meat inside. From here she could see the small chubby Brant Point lighthouse and a fast ferry slowing as it came into the harbor. Here, between the beach and the street, wild roses were already in bloom, perfuming the air. Across the harbor, on the Monomoy beach, someone was flying a red kite.
She sat on the sand to catch her breath, then untied her shoes and walked down the cool sand and into the water. It was very cold, and yet she wanted to fall into the water, as if being baptized by the bliss of being alive. Instead, she went back to her shoes, retied them, and stood, looking in all directions. She decided to walk the docks, up and down Swain’s Wharf, Old South Wharf, Straight Wharf, and Old North Wharf until she was across from the Harborside Stop & Shop and headed up Main Street.
At the corner of Main and South Water, she paused as a large Range Rover drove past. Beth Whitney was in the passenger seat, and Ryder was driving.
The shock stopped her dead. She bent over with her hands on her knees, shaking her head in dismay. Ryder was with beautiful Beth. Juliet groaned. A woman walking her spaniel gave her a curious glance, but Juliet ignored her.
Juliet turned around, picked up speed, ignored the rest of her route, and raced to her house, wanting to get to her phone. She hated having it with her all the time, but if she didn’t have it, that seemed to be when she needed it.
She crashed into the house, leaving the door open behind her. For a moment she put her hands on her knees again, catching her breath.
“Juliet? Is that you?” Theo called from the kitchen.
“Yes,” Juliet called back. “Give me a moment.”
“I want coffee,” Theo said.
Juliet staggered into the kitchen and collapsed on a chair. “So have some. The Keurig’s right there.”
Theo searched the countertops. “Where are the pods?”
“We don’t use the pods. They aren’t recyclable. They don’t biodegrade. There’s a basket in the drainer, and ground coffee in the pottery canister that says ‘sugar.’ ”
Theo found a spoon, filled the basket, grumbling under his breath. “How can anyone fill this damn thing when you’ve just woken up? You need caffeine before you can do this kind of teeny-weeny tiny hands operation.”