Fred was left to watch him go. “I used to overhear the checkout girls in the break room,” Fred finally said softly, to no one in particular. Evanelle wondered if he even remembered she was there. “I used to think they were such silly teenagers, believing the worst hurt in the world was when you couldn’t let go of someone who had stopped loving you. They always wanted to know why. Why didn’t the boy love them anymore? They said it with such anguish.”

Without another word, Fred turned and walked away.

Sydney sat alone on one of Grandma Waverley’s old quilts. Bay had made a few friends in the children’s area, and Sydney had spread a quilt near their families so Bay could play with the kids in the violet-blue dusk.

Emma was sitting in a cushioned lawn chair with some other people Sydney didn’t know. Hunter John was nowhere to be seen. Emma would sneak glances at Sydney every once in a while but otherwise made no attempt to communicate with her. It felt strange to be so close to her onetime friends, only to find them strangers now. Sydney was making new friends at the salon, but new friendships took time. History took time.

Sydney watched Bay run around the green with a sparkler, but she turned when she saw someone approach from the right.

Henry Hopkins walked to the edge of her quilt and stopped. He’d grown up to be a handsome man, lots of blond hair cut close and practical, and tight muscles in his arms. The last she clearly remembered of Henry was laughing at him with her friends when he tripped and fell in the hallway in high school. He’d been a gangly mess in his youth, but he had a quiet dignity that she appreciated so much when they were little kids. They grew apart as they grew up, and she didn’t know exactly why. She just knew she’d been horrible to him once she got everything she thought she wanted in high school. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to talk to her when she went to the Hopkinses’ table that afternoon.

“Hi,” Henry said.

Sydney couldn’t help but smile. “He speaks.”

“Do you mind if I sit here with you?”

“As if I could refuse a man who gives me free ice cream,” Sydney said, and Henry lowered himself beside her.

“I’m sorry about before,” Henry said. “I was surprised to see you.”

“I thought you were mad at me.”

Henry looked genuinely confused. “Why would I be mad?”

“I wasn’t very nice to you in high school. I’m sorry. We were such good friends when we were little.”

“I was never mad at you. Even today, I can’t pass a set of monkey bars and not think of you.”

“Ah, yes,” Sydney said. “I’ve had many men tell me that.”