In the Age of Love and Chocolate (23 page)

“It seems too late for that.”

“Which? College or sun hats?”

“Both. I meant college, though I’ve never been a hat person,” I said.

He took off his own hat and set it on my head. “I’ve never known a girl who needed a hat more. Why wouldn’t you want an added layer of protection from the sun and everything else? By the way, you’re only twenty.”

“Twenty-one next month.”

“People go to college at different times,” Win said. “You have the money.”

I looked at Win. “I’m a shadow crime boss. I run nightclubs. I don’t see college in my future.”

“As you like, Anya.” He set down his book. “
No
. Do you know what your problem is?”

“I suppose you are going to tell me.”

“You have always been far too fatalistic. I’ve wanted to say that to you for the longest time.”

“Why didn’t you? Get it off your chest. It isn’t good to keep your feelings inside, I should know.”

“When I was your boyfriend, I had an interest in avoiding conflict.”

“So you let me think I was right?” I said. “The whole time we were together?”

“Not the whole time. Sometimes.”

“Until that last time, and then you were out the door.” I tried to make this a joke. “For a couple of days, I thought you might come back.”

“So did I. But I was so angry with you. Besides, wouldn’t you have hated me if I had come back? That’s what I told myself. If I relent, she won’t love me anyway. So better to have some dignity.”

“High school relationships aren’t meant to last forever,” I said. “It seems like we’re talking about other people. I don’t even feel sad anymore when I think of it.”

“Aren’t you the most fantastically evolved young adult on this deck?” He picked up his old paperback book.

“What are you reading anyway?” I asked.

He held up the book.

“
The Godfather
,” I read.

“Yes, it’s about an organized-crime family. I should have read it years ago.”

“Are you learning about me?”

“Indeed,” he said with mirth in his voice. “I finally understand you.”

“So?”

“You had to open that club and you had to do everything you could to make it succeed. All that had been decided long before I ever met you.”

*   *   *

In August, the weather turned miserable. I could not wear my long dresses and sweaters anymore, which meant showing more of my skin than I was comfortable with. Win’s mother suggested that we go swimming in the river. She insisted that swimming would be good for my recovery. She was probably right, but I didn’t know how to swim. I had been born in New York City in 2066, the summer the pools had been drained to conserve water. “Win could teach you,” Ms. Rothschild said. “He’s an excellent swimmer.”

Win gave his mother a look that was a pretty close approximation to what I was feeling about the idea of him teaching me to swim.

“Jane, I would rather not,” he said.

Ms. Rothschild shook her head at her son. “I don’t like it when you call me Jane. I’m not clueless, Win. I know the two of you were romantic once, but what difference does that make? Anya should learn to swim while she is here. It will be good for her.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t even have a swimsuit.” I had never needed one.

“You’ll borrow one of mine,” she said.

In my room, I put on her swimsuit, which hung on me. The swimsuit was pretty modest in cut, though I still felt incredibly exposed. I threw on a T-shirt, but you could still see a bit of the scar that was below my collarbone.

If Win noticed it, he did not say.

Not that he would have. The boy had always had manners.

When I got into the water, he didn’t say much actually. He told me to get on my stomach. He held me up. He demonstrated how to kick and how to move my arms. It took me no time to catch on. I was good at swimming, which was easy compared to walking.

“It’s too bad they didn’t have a swim team at Trinity,” I said. “Maybe I should say it’s too bad there weren’t any pools in New York City.”

“Maybe your whole life would have been different.”

“I would have been a jock,” I said.

“I can see that. The famous Balanchine aggression would have been useful in athletic competition.”

“Right. I wouldn’t have dumped that lasagna on Gable Arsley’s head. I would have had productive channels for my anger.”

“But if you hadn’t dumped that lasagna on Gable’s head, how would I have known where to come and meet you?”

I swam a bit away from the deck. After a minute, he swam after me. “Not so fast,” he said. “You’re still a beginner.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me to him so that we were facing each other in the water.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I think my mother is as manipulative as my father.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother, with her absurd and transparent notion that I should teach you to swim. And my father … I think he has the idea that if he can get us back together, then he’ll have redeemed himself for 2082.”

“Ridiculous man,” I said. “It was really 2082 and 2083.”

“But one must ask the question: Is the only reason that stupid boy ever liked you because his ambitious father objected? Isn’t that what you always told me? My point is, maybe Dad’s plan is faulty. Because maybe those cute young people need obstacles, you and me. Maybe once the star-crossed become unstar-crossed, Romeo gets bored with Juliet.”

“Well, there are still a few obstacles,” I said. “I was married, and no matter how you look at it, it was basically a marriage of convenience.”

“You’re saying I should consider the fact that you are a person of low morals, ethics, and character to be an impediment.”

“Yes, that is what I’m saying.”

He shrugged. “I knew that about you a long time ago.”

“And I killed someone. In self-defense, but still. And my body is broken. I’m pretty much like a fifty-year-old woman. I move about as fast as my nana.”

“You look okay,” he said. He tucked a curl behind my ear.

“And the timing is wrong. I want to come to you when I am strong and beautiful and successful.”

“Do you want me to say that you are all those things still, or will you roll your pretty green eyes at me?”

“I
will
roll my eyes at you. I have a mirror, Win, though I try to avoid it.”

“From where I am, the view is not that bad.”

“You haven’t seen me naked,” I said.

He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

“Well, it wasn’t an invitation, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was reportage.”

“I’m”—he cleared his throat again—“I’m sure it’s not so bad.”

“Come closer,” I said. I thought I’d settle the matter. I lowered the scoop neck of my T-shirt to show him the large, bumpy pink scar from my heart surgery and the one from where the sword had gone all the way through.

His eyes grew wide and he inhaled sharply. “It is a bad scar,” he said in a subdued voice. He put his hand on the scar that ran below my collarbone, which was dangerously close to my breast. “Did it hurt?”

“Like crazy,” I said. He closed his eyes and looked like he might kiss me. I pulled my T-shirt back up. I swam over to the dock, my heart beating just short of an attack, and I climbed up the ladder as quickly as I could.

XXIII

I BID FAREWELL TO SUMMER IN A SERIES OF UNCOMFORTABLY EMOTIONAL VIGNETTES

“
I
HATE WHEN SUMMER ENDS,”
Ms. Rothschild said, waving her hand in front of her face. I had found her crying in the farm’s library. “Don’t mind me, though. Come sit for a spell.” She patted the place on the couch next to her. I returned
Persuasion
to the shelf—I’d worked my way through all of Jane Austen that summer—and then I sat down. Ms. Rothschild put her arm around my shoulders. “It has been a good summer, hasn’t it? You look a tiny bit plumper and rosier, I think.”

“I feel better,” I said.

“I am glad to hear it. I hope you have been happy here. It has been delightful having you and your sister. Please come back anytime. I am thankful to my ex-husband for thinking of it. I always liked you, you know, even when Charlie was so dead set against the match with Win. We argued about it quite a bit back then. He insisted it was just a high school romance, and I said, no, that girl is special. But these many years later, Mr. Delacroix has come to the opinion that I was right, which he always does, by the way, and I know we both have had our fingers crossed that you and Win might find your way back together.”

“It’s not to be.”

“May I ask why, Anya?”

“Well … I was widowed less than a year ago, and I was so badly hurt. It’s hard to imagine a relationship with anyone until I feel more like myself. And, the truth is, romantically, I question a lot of the choices I’ve made. I’ve made so many mistakes while thinking I was doing exactly the right thing. I think I need a break from relationships.”

“That is probably sensible,” Ms. Rothschild said after a pause.

“Besides, I think what Win truly feels toward me is nostalgia, and he is good to me because of our shared past,” I said. “You raised the world’s most decent boy, so congratulations for that.”

“I had help,” she said. “Win forgets, but Charlie was a pretty good father most of the time, too.”

“I can believe that,” I said.

“Can you? Most people look at me like I’m insane when I defend that man…” She shook her head. “Do you know what? I am done listing Charles Delacroix’s attributes. I’ve been defending him nearly my whole life. To my friends. To my parents. To our son. I am done.”

“We spoke of you quite often in Japan. He still loves you, you know.”

“Yes, but that isn’t enough. I’ve been disappointed in him for twenty-five years. I am finally done with that, too,” she said.

“I think Mr. Delacroix has changed.”

“But then the election will happen and he’ll go right back to the way he was before.” She nodded to herself, then she took out her phone. “Have you ever seen a picture of Win’s sister?”

I shook my head and looked at the screen. She had light brown, wavy hair, and blue eyes like Win’s. In the photo, she was rolling those eyes. Aside from the expression, I didn’t see a resemblance.

“The problem with meeting new people is not that you might not like them, but that you will like them too much. Now that I know you, I’ll worry about you in the city, Anya,” Ms. Rothschild said. She clasped my hand in hers.

“I’ve been on my own for years. I’ll be fine.”

She looked at me, then she brushed my hair away from my forehead. “I’m certain you will be.”

*   *   *

When I went back to our room, Natty wasn’t there so I went outside to look for her. I found her crying in the gazebo. “Please, Anya, leave me alone.”

“What is it, Natty? What has happened?”

“I love him,” she said.

“You love who?” I asked.

“Who do you think?” She paused. “Win. Of course, Win.”

I considered this information. “I knew you had a crush on him when you were a child, but I had no idea you still did.”

“He is so good, Annie. Look how he has been this summer, trying to make you feel better, even after so much time has passed.” She sighed. “He still sees me like a kid, though.”

“How do you know? Have you spoken to him?”

“I’ve more than spoken to him. I tried to kiss him.”

“Natty!”

“We were picking apples for his mother. The first ones are starting to come in. And he looked so handsome, standing there in his blue-checked shirt. I’m sick with loving him,” she said.

“Natty, I had no idea you felt this way.”

“How could you not know? I’ve loved him since I was twelve. Since the moment we met him in Headmaster’s office.”

“What did he do when you tried to kiss him?”

“He pushed me away, and said he didn’t think of me like that. And I said I was seventeen, and that was hardly a child. And he said in fact it was. And I said you met Anya when you were sixteen. And he said that was different because he’d been young then, too. And then he said that he loved me like a friend and like a brother and that he would always be there for me. But then I pushed him away. I told him I didn’t want to be loved that way. I can’t even stand to look at him anymore.”

She sobbed with her entire body—her shoulders, her stomach, her mouth, and all her other parts were aligned in a unified display of misery.

“Oh Natty, please don’t cry.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I told him what you said at the beginning of the summer. I told him that you said that you would never get back together with him, but I think maybe he still has hope. Maybe if he knew there wasn’t any hope, he could love me instead. We’re not so different.”

“My darling Natty, would you honestly want some boy to love you because he thought you were like me?”

“I don’t care why. I wouldn’t even care! That’s how much I love him.”

“I don’t think Win thinks that we’re getting back together. But do you want me to try to talk to him?” I wanted her happiness more than my own.

“Would you?” Those eyes were wet and hopeful.

“I will make sure he understands,” I said. “And before summer is over, too.”

*   *   *

After dinner, I asked Win if he would go on a walk with me.

We wandered into the orchard, where the last peaches of summer were dropping from the trees. Win found one still on the branch and picked it. His torso was long and lean as he extended his arm to reach it. He offered me the peach, but I declined.

“I want to talk to you about something,” I said.

“What is it?” He took a bite of the peach.

“My sister,” I said.

“Yes, I thought that subject might come up.”

“She has the idea that if you knew that I didn’t think we were ever getting back together that you might be more open to … I’m sorry, this is awkward.”

“Perhaps I can help. She thinks that the reason I don’t want to start a relationship with her is because I still have feelings for you. And to answer your query, she’s wrong. I think she’s smart and adorable and everything a girl should be, but even if there were no Anya, Natty would not be for me. Are you sure you don’t want a peach? They’re very sweet this time of year.”