Page 74 of Seven Summer Weekends

Back at the house, Addison went through the final closet for the white elephant sale. She would bring everything over first thing tomorrow and then head back to the city for her Monday meeting.

When she walked into the living room, she noticed Shep’s package peeking out from a now empty corner and looked at her watch. It was too late to visit him. She would head over there in the morning.

Early Sunday morning, Addison made two trips to the ferry dock, where the white elephant sale was spread out along the sidewalk. She now realized that she could have left everything for the new owners to deal with, in the Fire Island tradition—though if she had, it would probably have all ended up in a dumpster. While she was unhappy that she had fallen for Ben in the short time she’d been on the island, she was happy that she had also fallen in love with her aunt. Gicky’s things should go to other Fire Islanders. She was sure they would be snapped up by both sentimental and eclectic-minded residents as the treasures that they were. She slipped a set of handmade black-and-white poodle-shaped salt and pepper shakers into her pocket, suddenly unwilling to part with them.

Addison loaded the last boxes onto the wagon and placed Shep’s painting on top. She had enough time to make a quick stop at his house before dropping off the goods and catching the next boat, though she was cutting it close.

As she rang Shep’s bell, Addison decided that, if he wasn’t home, she would open the door—islanders seemed to leave their houses unlocked—and place it inside. In fact, she hoped he wouldn’t be home. The old man had won her over, and she didn’t feel like explaining where she was off to. Also, she knew that whatever she said would probably go right back to Ben, if he even cared to inquire about her whereabouts when he returned—if he returned.

Shep answered his door and immediately noticed the painting.

“You found it! I told you she left something for me!”

“Actually, she left it with her gallerist.”

“It’s a masterpiece, no doubt.”

Addison handed him the painting. He took it and joked, “OK, Don, let’s show him what he’s won!”

Addison smiled. She would miss this guy.

He untied the string, and the paper fell behind it. One look at the painting and his face became red and contorted. He quickly covered the canvas back up and put it down facing the wall. From his reaction, Addison reconsidered her plan to ask to see it. She again questioned what her aunt’s relationship was with Shep. It was a question she didn’t need to know the answer to.

“I have to run, Shep,” she said. “I have to bring the rest of this to the sale and make the next boat.”

Shep looked at his watch.

“Go!” he said. “I’ll bring this stuff for you and lock up your wagon by the dock. You’re never going to make the boat pulling that thing.”

She knew she would make it, but loved the thought of not arriving like a sweaty zenless mess. She took him up on his offer to bring the final round to the sale and headed to the boat with nothing more than her purse. Once on board, she took a seat up top and thought about how she had felt when arriving, compared to how she felt now. If anything, the heartbreak had proven that her former priorities weren’t so bad after all.

Chapter Thirty-five

Back in the city, Addison felt immediately happy to be home. Happy to greet her doorman, to rustle through weeks of mail, and to be among her own things.

She added a layer of glittery gold shadow to her usual basic daytime makeup in order to distract from the remaining sadness in her eyes. She had yet to hear word one from Ben, and being ghosted by him was a lot to bear. She was starting to feel as if she had imagined it all until his words—I can’t believe this—ran through her head. She thought about her mother’s favorite piece of advice: “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time,” and it confused her even more. In her heart, she knew Ben wasn’t a bad guy—maybe just a bad guy to start a relationship with. Her eyes threatened to well up and ruin her makeup, so she changed the subject on herself.

“Hey, Siri. Play Beyoncé’s ‘Best Thing I Never Had’!”

The interview that afternoon was flawless, and it was obvious from the first line spoken—“Addison Irwin, finally!”—that it was just a formality. If she wanted the job, it was hers. And whilethe whole exercise filled her with pride and confidence, once in the privacy of the elevator, she found herself gnawing on her thumbnail again. She was suddenly wistful regarding everything she would be giving up if she were to accept an offer.

The strap on her shoe pinched at her heel. She loosened it.

The bare feet had sure felt good.

The sculpting had felt good; the meditation had felt good; the ocean had felt good; and the love, the love had felt great. Even if the latter had been in her imagination, there was no denying how it made her feel. She thought of a prophetic meme she had read on Instagram that morning.

“It only takes one decision to change the entire direction of your life.”

She couldn’t wait to monopolize the conversation at dinner that night. She knew she would have to wrestle it away from Kizzy, with her “out with the old, in with the new” shenanigans, but she was in desperate need of all kinds of advice.

She predicted that each of her BFFs would listen to her options, toe the feminist line, and propose that she should accept the forthcoming offer, sell the house, and throw not even a backward glance in Bad Ben Morse’s direction ever again. The last to arrive, she sat down at the table, ordered a gin martini, and presented her case. They went at her laundry list of issues—starting with the opportunities with both Ogilvy and CC Ng.

“Being that this is my department, can I go first?” Kizzy asked, in full headhunter mode.

Everyone agreed.

“I have been fielding offers to poach you from Silas and Grant for years, so let’s just say—I’m invested in this career of yours. And yes, a generous offer from Ogilvy is as good as done. But Iwatched you with that clay and I thought it was remarkable. I mean, you all should have seen her. It was like everything was connected to her hands: her heart, her mind, her image.”

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