I feel ashamed of the mother in those photos and don’t want Ezra to see them. It’s bad enough that she destroyed his family with an affair; he doesn’t need to see her spreading her flirtatious ways everywhere else as well. And if I’m truly honest with myself, right now her sins feel a little too close to my own. Too much of a “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” kind of thing, and I don’t want to share that with Ezra.

The hallway opens up into a large, airy room. The view from the wall of windows actually takes my breath away. “This is amazing,” I say, looking up at the high domed ceiling and then turning a full 360 degrees to take it all in.

Ezra is already spreading a blanket out in the middle of the floor. He starts removing items from the shopping bag—a block of cheese, a baguette, some olives, a salami that looks like it’s been cured in a Mennonite barn for years.

I walk over to the blanket. “My god, Ezra, two times in a row.”

“I just picked up a few things at this great deli in the town where I got my client’s new boat,” he explains.

I have the irresistible urge to move around the large, open space. I slide away from Ezra while he finishes setting up our picnic and begin to twirl around the perimeter of the room. My bare feet slide easily across the well-worn floor, making a soft shushing sound. The skirt of my dress rises up into a full circle around my thighs as though my legs have wings.

Within seconds I’m light-headed and dizzy, but I can’t stop. The lake view whizzes past with each turn, as does Ezra, still crouched on the blanket, the inside and outside view blurring into one. I imagine what a fool I must look, and laughter comes. Ezra gets up off the blanket and moves toward me.

I spin away from him, making it a game, but he’s quick and reaches out and grabs me with one arm, like catching a butterfly in a net. Pulling me in close, he kisses me gently on the neck. His soft lips move up to my jawline and over my cheek. By the time he reaches my lips, there’s a buzzing all through the lower half of my body. Then the photo of my mother in the arms of another man, on this very dance floor, flashes through my mind.

I abruptly pull out of the kiss. “I’m starving. How about you?” Ignoring his look of surprise, I maneuver out of his arms and over to the blanket to sit down.