spoke over his shoulder.
“Well, look who’s here.”
“I know that voice,” he said, not turning around.
“I hope so,” she said, her breath a warm whisper on his earlobe. “You slept next to it for six years. Four of them legally.”
Erik turned and looked up at his ex-wife. A smile spread across his face at her fine, noble features and long cornrowed hair. Then his gaze dropped.
“Well, look at you,” he said. He put out a hand and gently touched her pregnant belly.
“Don’t touch me, Erik Fiskare,” she said. “Said no woman ever.”
The scrape of his chair cut the silence of the library as he got up and embraced her. “Look at you,” he said again.
“Look at me,” she said, laughing. “In a fix.”
“How far along?”
“Five months. It’s a girl.”
He slid his hands down her arms to catch her fingers up. They were bare.
“No, you conservative twerp, I’m not married,” she said.
“Conservative? Have we met?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Book report. What are you doing here? Do you have time, you want to get coffee?”
She sighed. “I’m so sick of coffee. Soon as I give birth, I’m getting drunk. Yes, let’s get coffee. Fucking decaf, this is what it’s come to.”
Her catchup took ten seconds. She was still teaching music at a private school in East Rochester. She met a man. She got pregnant. He bailed. She made a decision. “Happily ever after,” she said. “To be continued. The end. All of the above. Fuck it.”
“I’m thrilled for you. You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, baby,” she said. “As usual, it hurts to look at you. What’s giving you that decidedly masculine, non-pregnant glow?”
He smiled, his cheekbones warm with a guilty joy. “One guess?”
She leaned her cheek on her hand and studied him a moment. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, you finally called her.”
He gave her the condensed version, ending with his current predicament. Through it, Melanie made small, precipitating noises. Nodded. Shrugged. Laughed. And now her cheek was back on her hand and her eyes blinked over a crooked smile.
“Wouldn’t it be ironic if my sister’s best friend’s cousin’s husband had a friend who knew someone who was opening a dinner theater in New Brunswick?” she asked.
He stared at her, his utter unworthiness heavy in his lap. “Oh, Mel, don’t tease me.”
THE DINNER THEATER WAS in Moncton, a two-hour commute from Saint John. Being part of a start-up venture would mean long, grueling hours. But it was open-ended work and it got Erik his papers.
Moncton, fortunately, was Will’s hometown. He got his hands on strings and started pulling. The Acadian Ballet Academy was putting together its summer intensive program. They needed guest teachers. Madame Bianco from the New Brunswick Ballet was invited. She accepted.
Maurice and Ségolène Kaeger owned an apartment in Riverview, a pretty community across the river from downtown Moncton. They rented it to graduate and doctorate students at the university. Now they offered its summer lease to Erik and Daisy. At the same time, Daisy arranged to rent Barbegazi to the guest conductor coming in for Symphonie New Brunswick’s summer program.
Emptying his office, saying goodbye to friends and colleagues and packing up his apartment left Erik drained. The twelve-hour drive from Brockport to Saint John was a bear, including an enchanting delay at customs when he had to unload the entire U-Haul, explain its contents and his intentions, and then load it again.
“You know I can stand in bars and take numbers,” he muttered under his breath as he lugged boxes back into place. “I’m not the kind of terrorist you’re watching for.”
“Reason for your visit?” an official asked him for the hundredth time.
Tired and punchy, Erik looked the guy dead in the eye and replied, “Because I love her.”
The official raised his eyebrows. A corner of his mouth went up then the other joined it, showing a wide smile with a gold tooth.
“That’s the best reason I’ve heard all day,” he said, signing Erik’s papers and handing them back. His fingers touched the bill of his cap. “Good luck, my friend.”
Erik had three days to unload his boxes and clobber and load up on sleep and sex. He sorted out what was going into the attic at Barbegazi and what was coming with him to Moncton. Then he packed up again and headed to the Riverview apartment. Daisy would finish the spring season, see to Barbegazi’s tenants and join him in two weeks.
They agreed later spending the summer in Moncton together was the best decision they could have made. It allowed them to