Summer Girl - A.S. Green Page 0,111

by the ticket booth. I’m close but too far away for them to have noticed me.

Natalie has a thin bundle of mail in her hand, and she’s gesturing wildly. Her blue-streaked hair is electric, pulled haphazardly into a red scrunchie. Bennet, on the other hand, stands with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, his head down, nodding solemnly.

Something about their postures makes me pause, and I don’t yell ahead to get their attention. Rather, I stop by a telephone pole and stand under a bear-warning poster, straining to hear bits of their conversation, which is masked by the gulls and the incessant clanging of the halyards against the sailboat masts.

Bennet to Natalie: “When did you—clang—out?” Clang. Clang.

Natalie shoves the bundle of letters into his hands and says: “Why…?” Clang. “Are you freakin’ kidding me? When—clang—did you—clang?”

Bennet slips the letters into the back of his waistband and says, “I don’t…” Clang. Clang. “A month?”

There is another angry burst from Natalie that is, regrettably, canceled out by Doyle’s untimely blast of the ferry horn—a signal to Bennet to get up to the bridge. I move forward from the spot where my feet have been rooted.

“It’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever heard of,” she says.

Bennet is speaking quietly now, and if I hadn’t been moving steadily forward I wouldn’t be able to hear him at all.

“Actually,” he says, “it’s probably the most unselfish thing I’ve ever done. I don’t expect you to understand that. Just please don’t say anything. I’ll tell her tonight.”

By then I am within a few yards of them. “Tell her what?” I ask.

They hadn’t noticed me coming, and they both jump as if they’ve been caught in the midst of some illicit drug transaction.

“Whoa! Where did you come from? What are you doing up so early?” Bennet’s face lights up, changing from shame to surprise to joy to hunger in one single glorious second. My early rising has clearly been worth the effort. My heart accelerates at the sight of him.

“Tell her what?” I ask again, teasing.

He leans in to whisper. “Shhh. It’s a birthday surprise for you.”

Natalie makes a sound of disgust, then heads back toward the post office, but not before shooting Bennet another stern look, which he ignores.

“Are you taking the ferry to New Porte?” he asks. “You could sit up with me in the bridge. I don’t think Doyle would mind since it’s your birthday and all.”

“Not today,” I say. “Too much to get ready. What’s with Natalie?” I ask, watching her storm up the street.

“Stressing about the party, I think. This is her big moment-of-truth day.” He kisses me quickly. The last car is loading onto the ferry so he’s got to go.

“See you at noon?” I confirm, grabbing his hand before he can get too far.

“Noon,” he says. “I’ll wear my best barn-decorating outfit.”

I give his hand a squeeze then let him go; it takes quite a bit of effort. I watch him walk away, completely confident, and sure of every step he takes. Never a moment’s apprehension. I am undeserving and altogether mystified at my good fortune.

When he gets to the pier, he unties the heavy lines that keep the ferry at the dock, then raises his arm, either as a signal to Doyle or a wave to me. I’m not sure. He watches me for a bit, as the water churns noisily on their departure, then he disappears between the cars and climbs the stairs to the bridge.

I consider following Natalie up to the post office. I’ve never heard her sound so upset before, but as I move in that direction, I decide I can wait. I’m going to see her in a couple hours when we start decorating the barn. Until then, I don’t need her bad mood to sour my good one.

She’s obviously stressing out about the party. Nothing I do or say is going to help her there. She just needs to learn to keep the faith. Everything will work out like we planned. No party that I’ve had a hand in has ever ended in disaster.

It’s not yet ten o’clock in the morning when I get to March’s barn, but there are already forty tables spread out across the grounds, each with one of our floral candleholders in the center and eight folding chairs around the perimeter. Not enough seats for the whole town to eat at the same time, but close enough.

A big banner that reads A Night at the Acropolis is strung over

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