“And how are things in New Bedford?”

“All right.” And that makes me feel a little better, too. “How did your concert go?”

“Same old, same old. A little Vivaldi paired with a modern piece that has no discernible melody.”

I laugh. “Maybe someday I’ll go to one of your concerts. I’d like to hear the Vivaldi.” This is true; I’m not just making conversation. Over the years, I’ve developed a taste for good music. Candy doesn’t object too much when I pop a classical CD into the player as we close up the bar for the night, although she won’t let me do that until the last customer is gone.

“Look, Justine. I have a little break coming up. We’ve just finished the last of the summer season and rehearsals for the winter series don’t start for a couple of weeks.”

It’s the “Look” that alerts me, a verbal hint that something more than a change of topic is coming. “A little vacation, then. What will you do?”

“Thought I might jump on the bike and go see the Whaling Museum in New Bedford.”

“It’s a nice museum.”

“I can be there tomorrow, day after if I take my time.”

“That would be nice. But I don’t think you should.”

“Because it would be inconvenient?”

“Sort of. I’m staying at my father’s house. I don’t know for how long.”

“Not because you are being too polite to tell me to back off?”

“No. No. It would be nice to have a friendly face here.” I can conjure up the feel of Mitch’s leather coat on my cheek, the scent of him, but not the eyes that were behind sunglasses the whole time we rode together. “It would be nice to have a friend, but I don’t think that this is the time.”

“I understand.”

“It’s just…” Just what? Another guy hitting on me? Something that has happened to me all my life and I’m no longer flattered? It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like something I would encourage. But not now. I have too many emotional irons in the fire to think about encouraging a man to drive from Cleveland to New Bedford on a whim. “After this. When I leave, maybe I can…”

“No problem. Really. It was just an idea. Stupid. Of course you’re all tied up. I was being impulsive.”

“Mitch. It’s fine. A really sweet idea. Maybe on my way back to Washington I can stop.”

There is a quiet moment while we both adjust our thinking. He wants to come; I won’t let him. He was a ride when I needed it; now he thinks of me.

I hear Adele talking to my father. I need to get off the phone and see what else she has in mind for me.