I have a date. Well, no, not a date, I remind myself—an early dinner with Tate Dunn, who is the new harbormaster and lives here now. My palms turn sweaty at the thought of seeing him again, after all this . . . no—I pull out the note card in my pocket, its edges worn and thin—he’s lived here for a few months, and I’m sure I’ve seen him multiple times given the number of hash marks that fill the note card.

When I open the door to the restaurant, my face is warmed by the heated air that floats out. I’m early, so I choose a table by the window that overlooks the boats in the harbor. Wet snow pockmarks the water, and a light mist crawls down the mountainside, dances across the undulating surface of the bay.

My phone buzzes. Dinner with Tate Dunn at Pete’s, 5 p.m. He left a message on my phone asking if I’d like to meet him, and I’m looking forward to seeing him, wondering how different he looks from how I remember him. I touch the butterfly clip in my hair, straighten out my blouse that’s come untucked from my jeans, and try not to allow the stubborn tentacles of hope to root into my heart. The best outcome I can imagine is that we can be friends again. I’ve missed his friendship.

I start to pull out my notebook, stop, and instead reach for the device with a sticky note attached that says it’s a gift from Tate. A graphic of notebook paper with colored tabs across the side appears on the screen. One says Movie Date with Tate. My arm muscles tingle when I click it, but it’s empty, save for one line. Pick one: Go to Anchorage to see a movie or stay in and watch at your place. I’ll make dinner.

A smile spreads across my face. I type, My place, you cook. I have no idea if Tate’s a good cook or not, but I’m not one to say no to a free dinner. Then I add, it’s not a date, we’re just friends. It dampens the excitement I feel, but it’s the truth, and I’m a fool to think otherwise.

My hand hovers above the screen. There’s another tab: Things Tate wants to know about you. I click on it, curious. It’s a list of questions—some short, others longer.

What is your favorite memory and why? What’s a perfect day for you? If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? (You can’t say memory!)