I shook my head. When I said nothing, she raised her paddle as if to lever the kayak backward. That was when I surprised myself by inviting her to join me on the dock. By the time she had tied up her boat, wiped her hands on her shorts, and sat down, I was already regretting my invitation. Our chairs were awkwardly close, but I could hardly adjust their position now. Nor could I finish drinking my coffee in front of her, or give in to the solitary pleasure of holding the mug between my hands and inhaling the steam. There was nothing to do but gaze together lakeward. Chitchat was in order. Better to get it over with.

“You have a family?”

“Three kids. Luke’s eight, Ben’s six.” Norma grinned. “Tanner’s forty-two.”

“I’ve got one of those. He’s in his playroom at the moment.” I nodded in sisterly fashion toward the house, although in spite of the messy marriage he’d left behind and occasional bouts of glumness, Robin was as grown up as they come. I leaned forward to study a dragonfly shimmering on the arm of my chair. I’ve always been fascinated by the way they alight and lift off without warning.

Looking up, I said: “I guess your house needs a lot of work.”

“Gutting, boiling, starting over from the ground up? According to Tanner. He’s an architect. I kind of liked it the way it was.”

“I don’t think the Gibsons had touched that place since the seventies. They kept the wood shingles. They left the shoreline trees alone . . .”

“Rustic charm, I think it’s called,” said Norma.

“You’ve picked an unusual color.”

She waved at her kayak, moored below. “First thing we did. I have a thing about yellow. My mother’s favorite color.”

I did not mention the bylaws. Instead I steered the conversation toward the goings-on of the association. Any pause I filled with a question. Was she native to Pennsylvania or a transplant? How had they come to buy the lot? Did her husband’s practice give him much time with the boys? I learned about Tanner’s loopy business partner and Ben’s tantrums. I studied Norma’s face as she recounted her children’s foibles in tones of high bemusement, as if motherhood were a hilarious accident that had happened to her while she’d been looking the other way.

She stopped talking and frowned into the sun. Under the freckles her skin shone as if lit from within. I felt a longing for the easy company of women. I know my smile is an unnerving thing these days. Still, I smiled at her when she turned, and she reached out and put her hand under mine, making me jump.