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Chapter Six

Zach paced the sidewalk in front of the bakery, trying
to stay cool as he waited for his upcoming meeting with a producer who called
himself C. Bomb. It was mystifying to Zach that the producer had come all the
way to Avalon to meet with him, and to explain what the top-secret subject of
the upcoming show was going to be.

Meanwhile, he had another client who’d asked to see him. He
didn’t usually get nervous about meeting potential clients. Usually they were
the nervous ones, jittery brides wanting him to turn their special day into a
piece of beautiful cinema worthy of an Academy Award. And the funny thing was,
sometimes he did. Sometimes he captured a moment, elevated it to a lasting
moment. Other times, he was lucky to record a few decent sequences before the
event unraveled thanks to drunken groomsmen, warring relatives, or tearful
brides having a hissy fit.

Today’s client wasn’t a bride. She was a married woman. Who
just happened to be the mother of Sonnet Romano. What Nina Romano Bellamy wanted
with Zach was not likely to be a gauzy wedding video.

She showed up at the appointed time, a bit rushed and
breathless. Sonnet’s mother was attractive in a no-nonsense way, with
olive-toned skin, balanced features and brown eyes, dark hair. The similarities
between her and Sonnet were subtle but Zach could see the resemblance in the way
they carried themselves and a certain energy that emanated from within. Nina
looked a little frayed around the edges this morning, but she was the kind of
pretty that shone through regardless. Sonnet took after her in that way; Zach
couldn’t help making the observation.

He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t known Nina. After
his mom had left, he’d always been welcomed by her and the whole Romano clan,
for that matter. There had always been room for one more place at the table, or
in front of the TV for Friday night movie-and-popcorn. Later, when Zach’s dad
had been convicted, Nina had all but adopted him. Maybe that was why everything
was so weird with Sonnet. After Nina had been so nice to him, he should have
known better than to go banging her daughter in a boathouse.

“Thanks for meeting me, Zach.” Nina smiled, her kind expression
only deepening his guilt.

“Anytime. Is everything okay?”

She headed for the bakery. “I’m going to grab something to
drink, and then we can walk. It’s too nice a day to stay inside.”

“Sounds good.” He followed her inside and they got in line to
order.

While they waited, at least five people said hello to her. Nina
had served two terms as mayor of Avalon. She’d taken it on the chin when Zach’s
father had defrauded the town, because for a while, it appeared the lost
revenues were caused by the mayor’s mismanagement. Zach always appreciated that
she didn’t hold him responsible for his father’s misdeeds.

“Sonnet’s here for the weekend,” said Nina. “Have you seen her
yet?”

He kept a poker face. He had no idea what Sonnet had said to
her mother about the wedding incident. He and Sonnet were…what? They were
nothing anymore. They’d gone from friends to nothing in one night.

Damn it. He missed her.

He wondered what she’d said to her mother. That they’d had a
falling-out? That they’d had a one-night stand, which made it impossible to go
back to being friends, or…anything?

Before that night, he might have asked Nina how Sonnet was
doing. Then again, he wouldn’t have to, because he’d know. Because they would
have called or sent text messages or emailed the way they’d always done.

“Uh, no,” he said. Brilliant, dude. Just brilliant.

“Well, she’ll probably call you.”

“Probably,” he said noncommittally. Obviously Sonnet hadn’t
clued her mother in. That was good, then, he told himself. The internet rumor
hadn’t shown up on her radar, which meant it was probably nothing to worry
about. “What’s up?”

“I have a little business proposition for you,” she said. “I
need to make a video.”

“You came to the right place.” He tried to sound enthusiastic.
She probably needed a promo video for the Inn at Willow Lake, one of those
“escape and find yourself” pieces with soothing music and water sounds. Not
exactly Zach’s favorite genre, though he’d done plenty of it, and he was good at
it. With the Mickey Flick gig on the horizon, it was hard to focus on anything
else.

“Herbal tea, please,” said Nina to the girl behind the counter.
“I’m avoiding caffeine,” she told Zach. “About the video—this might seem a
little self-indulgent….”

“Try me.” He waited while she drizzled honey into a cup of tea
that smelled more like flowers than tea. When she finished, he said, “So what
can I do for you?”

She snapped a lid onto the paper cup. “Let’s walk.” They headed
up the street toward Blanchard Park, a swath of green space bordering the lake.
Between the trees, the sunlight shimmered along the path, a byway for joggers or
people with strollers, the occasional slouching teenager or skateboarder. At
midmorning, it was uncrowded, the air filled with birdsong and the distant
whistle of the commuter train.

“Okay, on to business,” Nina said. “I want you to document my
pregnancy.”

Zach nearly tripped over his own feet. “Sorry…what?”

She lifted her chin and kept walking. “I’m pregnant. And don’t
act so shocked. Women my age commonly have kids.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t worry. I’m just teasing. Everyone’s going to be
surprised when they hear. That’s why Sonnet came up from the city this
weekend.”

“Okay, so, uh, congratulations,” Zach said, feeling totally
uncomfortable. Document a pregnancy? Nina’s pregnancy? All right, he’d entered
the Twilight Zone. No matter how fascinating gestation might be to those
directly involved, to anyone else, it was likely to be as boring as watching
paint dry.

“I’d do it myself,” she said, “but I want this to be really
good. Professional quality. I’d like to make a video diary.”

“Nina, I wish I could help you out, but—”

“Zach, it’s something I need to do. See, the pregnancy is…well,
there’s a complication. Not just due to me being an older mom, but something
else came up, and I really need to document this process, and do it well. You’re
the best, Zach. I’ve seen your work and you’re exactly the one I need.”

He grinned. “You’re making it hard to say no.”

“Then my plan is working. Zach, before you make up your mind
one way or the other, I need to let you know about the complication.”

Any pregnancy seemed complicated to Zach. “I’m listening.”

“The prospect of having a baby is a wonderful thing. It’s
fabulous news. But there’s some not-so-good news as well. It’s kind of hard for
me to say this, but…” Her voice wavered, then trailed off.

He glanced over at her, and saw that she was blinking fast, the
skin taut across her cheekbones. After having filmed hundreds of weddings, he
knew that face. It was the face of a woman fighting tears. Great.

“Hey, are you all right?” he asked. Lame. People on the verge
of tears were not all right.

“I’m…I will be. Zach, I just… Oh, I have to come out and say
it. I have cancer.”

Oh, geez. Zach knew he winced visibly. Cancer.
I have cancer
. Probably the three worst words in the
English language. The three words no one ever wanted to say…or hear.

“Nina, I’m sorry.”

“It happens. You of all people know that, because of your mom.
I hesitated about coming to you because of that.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said. “I’m glad you came to me. If
you’re going to do something like this, I’m the one you want.”

She offered a faint smile. “Agreed.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I don’t know what else to say.”

And he didn’t, just like he hadn’t known what to say when his
mom came to see him from Seattle, where she’d gone after leaving him and his
dad. He had been a confused kid at the time, desperate to see his mom. The
prospect of a visit from her had filled him with joy. Then when she’d told him,
“I have cancer,” his world had come crashing down. She’d still looked like his
mom, still sounded like his mom. But cancer was the worst disease he’d ever
heard of. He’d dared to ask: “Are you going to get better?”

“That’s the plan,” his mother had told him. “I have to take a
lot of medicine and work really hard at it.”

Three months later, she was dead.

“It’s breast cancer,” Nina continued.

Zach’s throat ached. He felt himself being sucked into the
distant past. His own mom had sunk down on her knees in front of him. He could
remember how her eyelashes were spiky, and her breath smelled of Doublemint gum.
She’d been wearing her winter gloves, and she’d taken off one of them.
I have cancer.
His mom had had breast cancer.

“It’s treatable during the pregnancy,” Nina added. “There’s
every expectation of a good outcome.”

“So this video diary…” He suspected he knew what she had in
mind, but something in him needed to hear her say it.

“Is for my children,” she said, unfazed. “Look, nobody gets a
cancer diagnosis without going there—to the worst-case scenario. There’s a
chance—a small one, I’m told, but a chance—that I won’t survive. If that’s the
case, I would like to leave something behind for my kids, especially for the
little one. I want to record my thoughts, and some things about my life. Ever
since the diagnosis, I’ve been lying awake at night thinking…I want to create
something to prove I was here and that I mattered. It’s not about my vanity,
Zach, or my ego, I swear it’s not.”

“I would never think that.” Her words struck at him. How could
she think she needed to prove something like that? He thought again about that
little boy, living with his too-quiet dad and filled with fear and sorrow. How
he’d wished for someone, anyone, to comfort him. “How did Sonnet take the
news?”

Nina looked away. The wind whipped her hair across her face.
“She’s adjusting to the idea that she’s going to have a little brother.”

“I don’t mean the baby,” he said.

“I, uh, I haven’t told her about the diagnosis.”

“Wait a minute. She doesn’t know?” Zach felt a chunk of ice
forming in the pit of his stomach. “Nina—”

“I can explain.”

“No, you can’t. This isn’t the sort of thing you keep from your
own daughter. And she’s more than a daughter to you. Both of you have always
said that. You’re each other’s closest friend. What do you think, that she’s not
going to find out?”

“If you’d just calm down and listen, I
can
explain. She’s got one shot at this fellowship, and I don’t want
to be the cause of her missing this amazing opportunity.”

“Hang on—fellowship? What fellowship are you talking about?” It
was a fair question. Sonnet, with her stellar academic record, was constantly
pursuing—and receiving—various scholarships and fellowships.

“She didn’t tell you about the Hartstone Fellowship?” Nina
stopped walking in the middle of the path.”

“Nope.”

She gave a little laugh. “It’s the biggest thing that’s
happened to her. I can’t believe she hasn’t told you yet.”

“I don’t get what this has to do with you not telling her about
the…about your diagnosis.”

“I’m just worried she’ll make a hasty decision and decline the
fellowship just to be with me.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “You think?”

“I’m serious, Zach. There’s no crisis, nothing for her to do
here but worry, and that’s the last thing I want for her.”

“Then tell her what’s going on and let her decide.”

“I already know what she’ll decide. That’s why I’m not telling
her.”

Chapter Seven

Sonnet dreaded running into Zach again now that she’d
returned to Avalon, but she didn’t expect the encounter to happen so soon. First
thing in the morning, before she’d put in her contact lenses, or brushed her
teeth, or brought some sort of order to her hair. And before—dear God—she had
washed off the green mint facial she’d found in the guest bathroom. Hearing
someone down in the kitchen, she’d assumed it was Greg or Max.

“Hey,” she said, adjusting the clip that was keeping her hair
out of the facial mask. “I was wondering if you could show me how to use the
coffeemaker. I tried earlier, but I couldn’t get it to work. Those little pod
thingies are— Oh, God.” She stood with her feet frozen to the floor of her
mother’s old-fashioned country kitchen, staring at Zach Alger in all his tall,
shimmering blond glory.

“Sorry, can’t help you with the coffeemaker,” he said easily,
as if they’d just seen each other last week. As if they hadn’t foolishly hooked
up at Daisy’s wedding. He stared at her for a moment. Two moments. Then he lost
it, bursting out in guffaws. “Sorry, but you look scary.”

Sonnet tried to muster some dignity as she adjusted the lapels
of her oversized bathrobe. “Okay, how about knocking,” she suggested. “It’s a
good idea to knock before barging into someone’s house.”

“I’ve always had barging privileges here.” His laughter
subsided to chuckles.

She wanted to smack him. Did he never act his age? “I know, but
that was…”
Before
. “You should respect people’s
privacy,” she said.

“Oh, so now you’re
people
. Got
it.”

She sighed. “Have a seat, Zach. Let me… I need to go and
change, and I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t take all day.”

“I’ll take as long as I please.”

“Still your same charming self,” he commented, managing to make
her feel both ridiculous and small.

She marched from the kitchen. As soon as she was out of sight,
she sped upstairs to her room. Zach had come to see her. Zach, whom she was
supposed to be done with. At the end of their crazy night together, she’d told
him they’d made a huge mistake. In the long silence afterward, she had concluded
that their friendship had run its course, they weren’t kids anymore, and both
were going to move ahead with their lives in different directions.

As she stood at the sink and scrubbed furiously at her face,
she had multiple flashbacks going all the way back to early childhood. There had
never been a time when Zach was required to knock at the door. He’d been
family—her mom used to say so often. As a child, Sonnet hadn’t realized how
difficult Zach’s home life had been. She barely remembered his mother, though
she remembered when Zach realized Mrs. Alger had left and wasn’t coming back. He
had built a fort in the woods at the edge of Blanchard Park, and he’d hid out
there for a day and a half before anyone noticed he was missing.

After that, Sonnet’s mother had swooped in—that was her
specialty, swooping in—and brought him into the fold. He was allowed to come
over anytime—at mealtime, bedtime, before school, after school. He and Sonnet
became constant companions, as close as brother and sister.

The trouble was, they’d grown up and grown apart, and he didn’t
feel
like a brother to her. The night of Daisy’s
wedding, she could only see him as a grown man who was intriguing and far
too…sexy.

“I don’t think he’s sexy,” she said to the mirror, where the
image was slowly turning into something not quite so scary. She caught her hair
back in a messy ponytail and threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with the
slogan Jeffries for Senate, a pair of flip-flops and headed downstairs.

It occurred to her that she would never dress like this around
Orlando. He was big on appearances, even around the house. Jeans were okay if
paired with a silk top and heeled sandals. Sonnet respected that about him, that
he understood appearances mattered.

Not around Zach Alger, though. If he had a problem with her
dressing like a slob, so be it.

The thing was, she knew he didn’t care how she dressed, the
same way she didn’t care how he dressed. Okay, so the groomsman’s tux had turned
her head, had turned her, truth be told, into a temporary maniac. But in
general, she didn’t focus on what he was wearing. He was just…Zach. He’d always
been just Zach. She wished she could put the sexual encounter behind her and
reclaim their friendship, but she had no idea how to do that.

In the kitchen, he’d helped himself to a soda and was standing
by the door. “Let’s take one of the boats out,” he said.

Last time they got in a boat together… She pictured the two of
them having a leisurely Saturday morning paddle with the sunlight glittering on
Willow Lake. It was one of those days when the water was so still it made their
voices echo, as if they were the only people in the world. “I have a better
idea. Let’s not.”

“That’s not a better idea. Come on.” Without waiting for an
answer, he headed out the door and across the lawn. A few guests of the Inn at
Willow Lake were strolling the grounds or seated in Adirondack chairs, reading,
just enjoying the sunshine or watching their kids play in the shallows. People
came from all over to be here; for some it was the kind of vacation they dreamed
of all their lives. Growing up here, Sonnet could remember only dreaming of
leaving.

Yet she felt proud of what her mother and Greg had created
here, an oasis of tranquil beauty and luxury, the sort of place people visited
and returned to, year after year. The inn itself was a nineteenth-century
mansion with a belvedere surrounded by lush, rolling grounds expertly designed
by Greg, who was a landscape architect. At the edge of the property was a
vintage boathouse with a dock. The upper part of the structure housed private
guest quarters—the bridal suite when the inn was the venue for a wedding, which
it was most weekends in the summer. Rowboats, canoes and kayaks for the guests’
use were moored at the dock, and inside the boathouse itself was a restored
wooden runabout, not unlike the one she and Zach had made such illicit use of
after Daisy’s wedding.

Pulling her mind back from thoughts of that night, she tried to
keep up with Zach’s long, lanky strides.

“I can’t stop thinking about that night,” he said suddenly, as
if he had crawled inside her head with a clipboard, making notes.

“I never think about it,” she said.

“Liar. I bet you think about it as much as I do.”

“Listen, if this is what you came here to talk to me about,
you’re wasting your time. And mine. Is that why you sent me that text
message?”

“The one you didn’t reply to?” he asked bluntly. “No. That
was…a wrong number.”

“I’ll just bet it was.” In spite of herself, Sonnet felt good
around Zach. She didn’t have to act a certain way, or dress a certain way. She
just had to
be
. And that, she realized, was what
they had destroyed with their foolishness on the night of the wedding. “We both
agreed we shouldn’t have…”

“Shouldn’t have what? Made each other come? Again and
again?”

“That’s it,” she said, pivoting on her heel. “I’m leaving.”

He grabbed her arm. Just that touch, that uninvited pressure,
felt far too good, and she pulled away. “Zach—”

“Wait a second. I’m sorry, Sonnet. I didn’t come here to rehash
all that. We can talk about that another time.”

“No, we can’t. I’m done talking about it.”

“Get in the boat.” He tossed her a life jacket and held her
hand to steady her.

Something in his tone, or maybe in his intent expression,
convinced her. In so many ways, she knew him well, knew that intensity he
communicated with his pale blue eyes and the tautness in his jaw. Without
another word, she took a seat in the small wooden rowboat. As kids growing up in
Avalon, they used to go boating nearly every day in the summer, paying
seventy-five cents to rent a paddleboat by the hour. They were pirates,
explorers, merchant marines back in those days, their fantasy worlds more real
than reality itself. Back then, it was easy to escape the fact that Sonnet had a
single mom who had to work all day, and Zach’s dad was as emotionally absent as
if he was on another planet. It was easy to be together, too, communicating
without words, a subtle look or hand gesture enough to be understood. She hadn’t
realized then what a gift it was, that level of intimacy with another person,
but looking back, she did now.

That was another time, though, and they were different people.
Now, she had no idea what his purpose was. She still had Daisy, of course, but
Daisy’s life as an air force wife was taking her farther and farther away. Their
friendship was strong, but it had changed.

Sonnet’s friendship with Zach had done more than change. It
had…imploded. Or maybe morphed into something else. They sat in the boat facing
each other. He picked up the oars and started rowing. Her gaze was drawn to the
long, ropy muscles of his arms, and the flowing motion of his shoulders as he
propelled the boat away from the dock.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Away. It’s easier for me to talk when my hands have something
to do.”

“Talk. You want to talk.” She felt a nudge of resentment. He’d
been silent for months after that night, and
now
he
wanted to talk.

“It’s not what you think. I came to talk about your mom.”

This was the last thing she had expected to hear from him.
“What about my mom?”

“She’s the reason you came back.”

“Of course she is. In fact, I was planning on meeting her for
lunch after her doctor’s appointment, so I hope this won’t take long.”

“You’re planning on staying through the weekend.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”

“Your mom told me you were selected for some big fellowship,
and you’re moving overseas.”

“That’s none of your business, either, but you’re correct.”
Thanks, Mom, she thought. “What are you getting at, Zach?”

“There’s something your mom’s not telling you. Something I
think you need to know.”

“And you’re going to be the one to tell me.”

“I sure as hell don’t want to be, but if the situation were
reversed, I would want you to level with me. The truth is the truth. She’s sick,
Sonnet.”

“She’s pregnant, Zach. Last time I checked, that didn’t qualify
as an illness.”

“No, I mean it.” He stopped rowing and let the oars go slack.
His gaze didn’t waver as he said, “Nina’s got cancer. She told me this
morning.”

As Sonnet studied his expression, she felt a chill slither
through her, tightening around her stomach. Despite the fact that she no longer
had a friendship with Zach, she had never known him to lie to her, or to make
such a tasteless joke.

“Oh, my God,” she said.

The water lapped quietly and rhythmically against the hull of
the boat.

“Zach?”

“Shit. I’d give anything to not be having this conversation. I
told Nina she should tell you but she refused to listen.”

“Cancer? Oh, my God, Zach. My mom has
cancer
?” It was right up there with her worst nightmares.

“It sucks to have to break a confidence, but I know some
things. I know because of my own mom. They kept her illness from me when I was
little, and it was wrong. I know she thought she was protecting me, but all it
did was make it a lousy shock when I finally found out. You’re her daughter.
Despite what she’s thinking, you need to know. And you need to know now, not
after you’ve moved away.”

“What is she thinking?” Sonnet asked desperately. “What in the
world is she thinking?”

“She didn’t want to tell you because she doesn’t want you
changing your plans for her sake.”

A trembling began inside Sonnet. Everything felt heightened,
more intense. She could hear the water trickling past the hull, the sharp call
of killdeer in the trees along the shore, the sunlight dancing along her bare
arms. “My mom has cancer,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Zach said quietly, still watching her. “I’m sorry
as hell. She said she didn’t want to worry you—”

“My mom’s pregnant, and she has cancer, and I’m not supposed to
worry?” Sonnet nearly reared up out of the boat. “And how does anybody know
she’s going to be all right?”

He didn’t answer. She saw his gaze shift and darken, as though
a shadow passed over him. Then a memory struck her, an echo of a time long past,
a time she’d nearly forgotten. Zach, still just a boy, standing alone in the
brick-paved driveway of his father’s house, bouncing a pink rubber ball against
the garage door, again and again in a rhythm as regular as a heartbeat.

Sonnet had gone to visit him on her bike. It was an afternoon
in early fall, the leaves of the maple trees in town edged with the colors of
fire. They made a peculiar dry sound as the wind rustled through them,
punctuated by the rhythm of Zach’s thrown ball.

“Want to go climb up to Meerskill Falls?” she had asked him. It
was one of their favorite things to do, riding their bikes to the trail at the
edge of town and then hiking up the steep gorge to the top of the falls, spanned
by a hanging bridge where, according to local legend, two lovers had once jumped
to their death nearly a century before.

“Nah,” he said. Sunlight glinted off his hair.

“Come on. It’s not a school night. We don’t have any homework.”
She knew this because they were in the same class, Mr. Borden’s sixth grade.

“Can’t,” he’d said.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I have to go to Seattle.”

“Seattle? That’s where your mom lives, right?”

“That’s where my mom died.” The rhythm of the ball never
faltered.

Sonnet dropped her bike with a crash, letting her library books
spill across the driveway bricks, ignored. “Oh my gosh, Zach. That’s so sad.
That’s the saddest thing in the world.” Mothers weren’t supposed to die.
Grandparents, sometimes. And great-grandparents definitely, like Nonna Romano,
who had been so old there was actually a celebration with people dressed in
costumes from the various eras of her life. Sonnet and her mom had worn flapper
dresses.