“For sure. Why?”

“Hugo is looking for a space to rent, both to live in and to open his new business.”

“Is he?” she asks and her eyes light up.

“You should talk to him.”

“Tomorrow morning, first thing. Thank you so much, Maya. Both of you. Thank you.”

This story is writing itself. I’ll just sit by, watch and take notes.

Seventy-Three

“Is this what you do in your free time?” asks Ethan after we leave the gallery.

“What?”

“Play matchmaker?”

“What are you talking about?” He’s onto me, I think, and try to keep a serious face.

“First Celine, now Anna. I wonder if there are others. There must be others.”

“Ha-ha. You’re just imagining things.”

“Sure.”

As we turn on Scenic Road, I point at the beach. “A bonfire. Do you want to go?”

He seems hesitant.

“Just for a few minutes?”

It’s a different spot than last summer, but it’s the same beach.

Ethan shakes a few guys’ hands and chats to a couple of women. He introduces me to everyone, and while I make small talk, he shows up with two tin mugs and a thermos.

“You’re resourceful,” I say, laughing. “Where did you get these?”

“I have my connections,” he says as he pours.

“What is it?” I ask and taste.

“Hot cider. If you don’t like it, I’ll get you something else. Sorry, I didn’t ask.”

“No. This is perfect, thank you. I’ve never had hot cider. It’s quite good.”

I look over at a group of people and see they have thermoses and tin mugs and offer them to anyone who wants them because they brought too many. “Ahaaa, I found your secret source.”

He laughs. “We grew up together,” he says. “I know who has the goods.”

One of the men gestures for Ethan to come over. “Excuse me a minute,” he says to me.

Ethan sits in the sand, on the other side of the bonfire, talking to the man. I keep looking at the fire, then at him, and suddenly it hits me. Wow. Déjà vu.

He comes back a few minutes later.

“I just realized I’ve seen you before.”

He stares.

“Last summer. You were at a bonfire.”

“There are bonfires almost every weekend in the summer; I go to some of them.”

“Your hair was shorter, I think, but it was you. I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah, I’m pulling a Rapunzel now,” he says with a smile.

“Do you remember?” I ask.

“What?”

“Me,” I say, but I don’t wait for an answer. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. You would’ve told me already if you did. And it’s not even important if you do. It’s just, wow! I knew there was something familiar about you from the moment we met; I just couldn’t put my finger on it.”

Celine isn’t home when we get back.

“Tired?” he asks. I am exhausted and I’m surprised he’s in such great shape since we’ve both been awake since three o’clock.