Giancarlo was about to ask her if she would like to join him for a cup of coffee while she waited, but just then the story time came to an end and the two children began to look about for their mother.

“Oh well, time to go,” she said, turning suddenly to him. She reached out, and the two shook hands. “It was good to see you, Giancarlo.”

“It was good to see you, too, Claire.”

Giancarlo had truly meant what he said. He really was happy for Claire, and for the new life she had found. What he could not account for was the persistent dull ache of sadness he felt growing within as he watched her hurry off to her children. It was an old, empty feeling, one that haunted him from time to time. It grew only worse when Claire waved goodbye to him before shepherding the girls out of the store. And then of course he understood. His encounter with her had reminded him of the ordinary pleasures of everyday family life that seemed, for whatever reason, to lie perpetually beyond his grasp. Regrets can be a heavy load to bear, and these were settling in on him. Nonetheless, he smiled and waved farewell.

Afterwards, when he had finished paying for the dictionary and the magazine, Giancarlo paused at the door and looked out at the rain-swept parking lot, where the sky above was as dark and bleak as his mood had become. He turned up his collar, stepped outside, and trudged off through the puddles, wondering all the while where he should go or what he should do next. It was a problem that vexed him from time to time in his solitary existence.

The simple life, he well understood, was one not always easily lived.

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 12

The rain persisted, washing away the rest of June.

For the better part of a week, a dreary gray shroud hung over the region, the precipitation coming in intermittent waves, sometimes as a drizzle, at other times as an outright downpour.The dry, pleasantly warm weather that had prevailed the whole month of June was soon but a memory, and the temperatures hovered well below their norm for this time of year. Seasoned New Englanders of course were unsurprised by this turn of the elements. It had been an unusually dry month, so it stood to reason that sooner or later nature would find a way to make up for the shortfall of rain. Why she had felt it necessary to do it all at once was anyone’s guess. But she was a fickle lady, nature, and she did everything at a time of her own choosing. There was nothing to be done for it other than wait for the dark clouds to wear out their welcome with the sky.