That was the year Sydney dressed up as Claire for Halloween. She thought it was hilarious at the time. She’d bought a cheap black wig and pulled it back with combs and she wore jeans covered in dirt and Claire’s old gardening clogs. Claire had become famous for unknowingly going out with flour on her face, and sometimes girls at the grocery store would make fun of her, so Sydney put streaks of flour on her face. The pièce de résistance was the Kiss the Cook apron she wore to the dance, which everyone had a good laugh over, because the whole town knew that no one would kiss oddball Claire, who was only in her early twenties at the time but already ridiculously set in her ways.

“I think you did it back then to make fun of her,” Henry said, sitting beside her. “These days I see you dressing like her, but I think you’re trying to be like her in earnest this time.”

Sydney looked down at Claire’s sleeveless shirt she was wearing. “True. And it helped that I didn’t bring a lot of clothes with me when I moved back.”

“You left in a hurry?”

“Yes,” she said, not explaining any further. She liked the way things were, the relationship they had, like when they were kids. David was nowhere in that picture. David didn’t even exist when they were together. And there was no pressure for anything beyond their friendship, which was a huge relief. “So you were at that dance?”

He nodded and had some of his drink. “I went with Sheila Baumgarten. She was a year ahead of us in school.”

“Did you date a lot? I don’t remember seeing you at any of the date spots.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. My senior year and a year after that, I dated a girl from Western Carolina University.”

“A coed, hmm?” She nudged him with her elbow playfully. “You like older women, I take it.”

“My grandfather is a huge believer in the fact that Hopkins men always marry older women. I do it to make him happy, but there’s probably some truth to it too.”

Sydney laughed. “So that’s why your grandfather asked me how old I was when we went to your place for ice cream.”

“That was why,” Henry said. “He’s always trying to set me up. But he insists they have to be older.”

Sydney had been putting this off because she was so fond of her time with Henry, but she honestly thought she was doing him a favor by finally saying, “You know Amber, our receptionist, is almost forty. She likes you. Let me set you up with her.”

Henry looked down at the drink in his hands but didn’t respond. She hoped she didn’t embarrass him. She’d never thought of him as shy.