The woman collapsed her tent and started packing it up into a small pouch and converted the poles that gave it its structure into trekking poles. East marveled at the amazing design but was surprised to find that he was more interested in the woman than he was in the excellent design of her ultra-packable tent. Which she probably saw in the same catalog that she had found her expensive and stylish clothing in.

“Please wait!” East begged. “Like I said—I’m not the kind of person who does things like … what I just did.”

The woman continued to break down her campsite.

“Please—don’t go,” pleaded East. “Just—do what you need to do, and … and I-I-I … I won’t bother you.”

The woman realized that all she wanted in the world right now was for this guy to stay and bother her, and she had no idea what to do with that feeling, so she ignored it and continued packing up her things so she could be on her way.

“Maybe just consider what I did … a-a-a-a … a very warm Maine welcome.”

From any other guy, such a hokey appeal would have been creepy. But from East, it was earnest. And charming, somehow. And it took the woman by such sweet surprise that she stopped packing up her things.

And the lightness she had been feeling filled up her insides again. And seemed to make her acquiesce and say, “All right.”

East was overjoyed that the woman was going to stay in his yard. And he immediately apologized again for hugging her: “I’m real sorry I did that.”

“It’s okay,” the woman said, in a way that made East feel like it really wasn’t and that she would like for him to stop apologizing and stop talking to her and let her do what she was there to do.

And East took the hint and said, “Well, good luck. And if you need anything—somethin’ to eat or some heat … or the bathroom—just give a holler.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

East was a little embarrassed that he had just offered the woman his bathroom. But she’d need a bathroom sooner or later, he figured. So it wasn’t an unreasonable thing to have offered.

And then he turned and was about to go—but, before he did, he realized that he didn’t know the woman’s name. And she didn’t know his. So he said, “And, just so you know: I’m East.”

“I’m sorry?” asked the woman, turning to East.

“My name’s East.”

“Oh.” The woman considered the unusual name. And then asked, “Like the direction?”

“Yeah,” East answered, and he went on to explain his unusual name, like he had done countless times in his life. “It’s short for Easton.” And he took a few eager steps toward her as he explained his name. “It’s the name of a town—that way”—East pointed east—“where I was born.” And then he offered more of an explanation so the woman wouldn’t have to ask for one. “There was a mess-up on the birth certificate: a son, Easton, born on January 6th, in the town of Matthew, Maine. Instead of the other way around.”