“How are things going?” A new smile eased onto his face—slight but intense, tempting and teasing.

“Pretty good, I guess.” She swallowed hard as a breeze curled around the edge of the door. “We’re selling everything in the booth. I keep having to bring more merchandise down there.”

“That’s great. Think you could sneak away with me for a little bit?”

From the moment he’d entered the shop, Tyler had been slowly moving toward her, a footstep here, then another one. Now he stood just a couple feet away, the space between them pink with heat.

What is happening?

“I—I don’t think so. If I leave, there’s no one else to watch the shop. Violet and Trudy are down at the booth.”

“Okay.” He took another step forward. He smelled like hay and grass and soil and life. Maya fought the urge to press her face against his neck and breathe him in.

“Can I come back and see you later, then?”

She nodded. He reached out and took her hand. He ran his thumb over the tips of her knuckles, sending a shiver from her fingers up to her shoulders. Just as he leaned down toward her—closer, a little closer—the door jangled again and a trio of women flocked through the doorway.

“Oh!” One of them giggled. “So sorry to interrupt!”

Maya took a step back and lifted her hair from her damp neck. “It’s no problem. Let me know if I can help you ladies with anything.”

“We’ll be just fine, dear. You continue on with your . . .” The woman flapped her hands toward Maya and Tyler.

Tyler cleared his throat and grinned. “So I’ll see you a little later?”

Maya yanked her hair up into a high ponytail and fanned her face as she watched him leave, the muscles under his T-shirt shifting and releasing as he rounded the corner and walked toward the river.

It wasn’t until much later, when she locked eyes with a woman in a skirt suit and heels, that she realized the change had come. It was here.

Fifteen

Violet was slipping a customer’s purchase—a small canvas print of a heron flying over marshy sand and grass—into a bag when a gust of wind funneled down Water Street and pressed her shirt flat against her skin. She turned her face in the direction of the wind, relishing its cool edges, and caught sight of Maya and Tyler by the food truck at the corner of Water and Maple. Their cheeks were flushed, as if they’d been sitting in the sun or running a race. They stood close together, not touching exactly, but the space between them shimmered with desire.

She sighed. Young love. She’d been there once and only once. She’d tasted its fruit, imagined its future, and wept when she lost it.

1982

Violet imagined Frank sitting on the stool at the bar, music in the background, whispers and laughter floating in the smoky air. One elbow propped on the sticky wood surface, his body turned toward the door, waiting for her to walk in. She imagined him fingering the small blue box in his pocket, then standing and pacing nervously, maybe confiding to the bartender that he was about to propose to his girlfriend. She imagined his mouth and the shape of his lips as he formed the words. He had no doubt that she’d come. He trusted that she wanted the same things he did: a life together, full of love and adventure and the sharing of hearts and futures. And oh, how she wanted that too.