Page 80 of Summer Reading

Ben’s cheek was resting against my temple and Ifelt him smile. He put the spoon down and reached for the salt, pouring a tiny amount into his palm. I used my free hand to pinch it and toss it into the simmering ingredients.

“Tell me about your vovó,” he said.

This was not a simple request. Vovó had been such a positive force in my life that there wasn’t a corner of my existence that she didn’t inhabit in one way or another. I pictured her in my mind and recalled the scent of the perfume she always wore, a soft floral fragrance that reminded me of a rainy day in spring.

“She was short, stout, and bespectacled. She kept her red agate rosary tucked safely in the pocket of her crisp gingham apron. She went to the salon every Saturday and had her white hair set in big fat curls so she’d look her best for Sunday mass.”

I leaned back against Ben and his arms tightened about me.

“Vovó was bighearted and easy to make laugh. She never had a cross word or a criticism to say about her family. Her children and her grandchildren were her reason for being. As teens, we couldn’t get a hug from her that didn’t include a twenty-dollar bill tucked into our hand.”

I paused. My throat was tight and I had to swallow before I could continue.

“She baked bread every single day.” My voicedropped to a whisper as I added, “And I think she knew.”

Ben became very still. “Knew what?”

“That I couldn’t read,” I said. “She grew up in a house with parents who only spoke Portuguese, so English was her second language and she spoke it very well, but I think she learned as a child to be an observer. She watched people to fill the language gap. We had that in common, and I think she knew that I struggled to read. That’s why out of all of her grandchildren, she taught me the family recipes. I think she recognized I was going to need an occupation that I could manage, and cooking was what she knew, so she gave it to me.”

More tears spilled and Ben’s arms tightened around me. I relaxed against him while I tried to pull it together. After a beat, I turned in his arms and said, “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“She meant a lot to you,” he said.

“She meant everything to me,” I corrected him. “That’s why writing this book of her recipes is such a huge responsibility. I can’t get it wrong.”

“You won’t,” he promised. “You’re brilliant and determined and you’ll do her justice.”

I met his gaze, and a feeling of certainty came over me. It occurred to me then that I trusted Bennett Reynolds implicitly. It was equal parts thrilling and comforting and terrifying.

“What is taking so long? I’m starving.” Tyler burst into the kitchen. He stared at us and then said, “Seriously? This is a food preparation area.” He waved at us with his hands. “You, over there.” He pointed for Ben to get back to his laptop. “And you, tell me what goes in next.”

Ben released me but not before planting a kiss on my lips, and whispering, “You’ve got this.”

I met his gaze and nodded. I might have this but he had me. Oh, he had me, all right. The guy had no idea how much he truly had me. In fact, he might never be rid of me.

•••

My morning consisted of dropping Tyler at camp, doubling back home to change, and then rushing out the door to pick up Em for her doctor’s appointment. I’d insisted on taking her, fearing that if it was bad news, she’d be in no state to drive.

As I motored through the neighborhood, I marveled at how full my days were. When I’d originally agreed to come to the Vineyard to chaperone Tyler, I’d assumed my summer would be filled with rigorous days of paddleboarding, beach volleyball, and maybe some tennis with my dad because it made him happy. I’d done none of that.

Em was waiting outside her house when I arrived. Her eyes were big behind her glasses and she lookedpale. I’d bet she hadn’t slept at all last night and she probably hadn’t eaten either. I pulled up to the curb and she hopped in.

“Have everything you need?” I asked.

She opened her shoulder bag and peered inside. I could see the edge of not just one but two books.

“You sure you don’t want to go grab another book?” I teased.

She smiled. “It’s okay, I have an e-reader app on my phone.”

I considered telling her I was being sarcastic, but thought better of it. I was now rocking several books in my own audiobook library, so I was no longer in a position to mock. The realization that I had a toe in the book nerd club made me smile. I’d sure never seen that coming.

We arrived at the doctor’s office ten minutes ahead of time. Em signed in and we took two seats in the corner of the waiting room. A wall-mounted television was playing the local morning show out of Boston and there were two other patients in the room in addition to us. No one was watching the program, as everyone was looking at their phones.

Em grabbed her book and I relaxed back in my seat to watch the TV since they were running a segment on making your own guacamole. The local chef wasn’t a person I recognized, but even from across the waiting room I could tell he was using too much cilantro.

We sat quietly waiting for her to be called. I glanced at Em as I mentally critiqued the chef. She seemed completely absorbed in her book. Her gaze was focused on the page, her posture relaxed. Reading was an immersive experience. I felt a small pang of envy but then shrugged it off. Just because I could listen to a book while I did the dishes didn’t make it not immersive. It just freed up my hands.

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