He stood and ran back toward the house, a faint purple light trailing behind him like the tail of a comet.

From his bedroom window, Lester watched his grandson run. All Hopkins men were like that. Lester had been like that. It was a common misconception that being old meant you couldn’t feel passion. They all felt passion. They all had run that same stretch of field. Long ago, when Lester first met his wife, he’d set trees on fire just by standing under them at night. He wished for Henry the same thing he had with his dear Alma. And running at night like you were on fire was the first part of getting there. Eventually, if Sydney was the one, Henry would stop running to nowhere and start running to her.

Claire discovered that expectation was nice for some things—Christmas, waiting for bread to rise, long car trips to somewhere special. But it wasn’t nice for others. Waiting for certain female guests to leave, for example.

Every morning, just before dawn, Tyler would meet Claire in the garden. They would touch and kiss and he would say such things to her, things that made her blush in the middle of the day when she thought of them again. But then, just before the horizon turned pink, he would leave and promise, “Just three more days.” “Just two more days.” “One.”

Claire had Rachel and Tyler over for lunch the day before Rachel was to leave, under the guise of good manners—because it was a Southern tradition to do all sorts of things under the guise of good manners—but really because she wanted more time with Tyler and the only way to get it was with Rachel.

She set up a table on the front porch and served turkey salad in zucchini blossoms. She knew Tyler was immune to her dishes, but Rachel wouldn’t be, and zucchini blossoms aided in understanding. Rachel needed to understand that Tyler was hers. It was as simple as that.

Bay had taken her seat at the table and Claire had just set out the bread when Tyler and Rachel walked up the steps.

“This looks lovely,” Rachel said. As she sat, she gave Claire a once-over. She was probably a perfectly nice person. Tyler liked her, and that said something. But it was clear that she wasn’t entirely over Tyler, and her sudden presence in his life was curious. There was a long story to her.

One Claire had absolutely no desire to learn.

“I’m glad the two of you get to spend some time together before you leave tomorrow,” Tyler said to Rachel.

“You know, my schedule is flexible,” Rachel said, and Claire nearly dropped the water pitcher she was holding.

“Try the zucchini,” she said.