Page 18 of Summer on Lilac Island

stench, a bad sign of assimilation. More potent now was the grisly smell of grease and meat pouring out from the Chuckwagon,

a counter-service-only restaurant crammed between the Mackinac Inn and the Haunted Theater.

“Why don’t you reach out to Lillian?” Rebecca asked. “Isn’t she back too?”

“Great idea,” Gigi said. “Let me become besties with my ex-best-friend-turned-archrival who’s now dating the guy Eloise tried

to give my dowry to. Why didn’t I think of that sooner?”

“Lillian is dating James? That’s a good-looking couple.”

Gigi fanned her neck with the church bulletin, which she was accidentally still holding. “How do you know what James looks

like?”

“I did my online research. Couldn’t find much.

It’s always a good sign when guys aren’t active on social media.

” This was a dig at Gigi’s exes, a smattering of whom had sizable online followings, posting multiple times a day, often shirtless.

“But the picture in James’s professional bio is divine,” Rebecca said.

“That jawline. You’re sure you’re not interested? ”

“He has the personality of stale wheat bran,” Gigi said, feeling it perfectly justifiable to slander him when he had done

it to her first. “The kind that Eloise used to force-feed us for breakfast.”

“It wasn’t so bad if you added chocolate milk. And some people take a little while to warm up.”

“James and Lillian are a good match,” Gigi said. “Both equally bland. It’s just infuriating how everyone thinks he picked

her over me. I could get James to forget about Lillian in a second if I actually tried.”

“Sounds like you might like him,” Rebecca said.

“Definitely not,” Gigi said, a little too forcefully. “I just like the idea of getting back at Lillian.”

“You’re going to hold the grudge against her forever, aren’t you?”

“Like a trophy.”

“Remember in elementary school when you stole Mom’s eyeliner because you wanted your eyes to be like Lillian’s?” Rebecca asked.

“I was a young racist,” Gigi said. “I’m not proud of it. All the unlearning I’ve had to do. Enlightenment is very lonely.”

“That wasn’t my point,” Rebecca said. “My point was that before you hated Lillian, you were obsessed with her. Wanted to be

her, even. Can’t you try to find that friendship again?”

Gigi felt it flaring up once more—nostalgia for what she’d lost, what she’d deliberately broken. Because as much as she liked

to remember their friendship fallout as Lillian’s fault, Gigi knew underneath the stacks of stories she’d edited over the

past decade, she was responsible. Being back on this island reminded her of that so rudely.

“I never wanted to be her,” Gigi said, trying to push away the thoughts and feelings. “I only ever wanted to beat her.”

Gigi had a craving for something sweet to counteract the bitterness.

She entered May’s beneath its striped awning.

The rich aroma of melting chocolate greeted her.

A fourth-generation family business, May’s gained fame during World War II.

Sugar was rationed and islanders had to wait in long lines.

Harold May was a local hero, making fudge through it all, though he’d had to close the store at noon every day.

Long after the war ended, people kept flocking through the doors.

Today a pimply-faced college-aged worker stirred cauldron-sized kettles with an oak paddle. It kept the fudge from sticking

over the gas stovetop. Another employee poured a boiling batch onto a marble cooling table. With a nimble flick of her wrist,

she folded the fudge with a wide spatula.

“Are you at May’s?” Rebecca asked. “I can hear Mrs. May’s voice. Tell her I say hello.”

“Will do.” But Gigi darted out and went to Joann’s Fudge across the street, where she had less of a chance of being roped

into conversation. After sampling peanut butter, cookies and cream, butterscotch, and mint chocolate chip, she put in the

order she knew she would from the start: two slices of dark chocolate espresso fudge. The only thing better than pure sugar

was pure sugar with caffeine.

“I thought you were vegan,” Rebecca said, overhearing the order. “Doesn’t fudge have dairy?”

“Every rule needs an exception or it loses its originality.”

“Get some turtle fudge for Mom,” Rebecca said. “She loves the nuts and caramel.”

“Don’t boss me around.” But Gigi added a slice of turtle to her order. She paid at the counter with a crumpled twenty-dollar

bill she’d found in her bedroom desk. Babysitting money from high school, most likely. “But maybe you’re right and I did give

up on James a little too fast.”

“You’re twisting my words,” Rebecca said. “Don’t use him to get back at Lillian. You’re better than that.”

“Am I?” Gigi mused. She had a strong craving for a joint. “I know you’re making that face. The one where your nostrils get

all snakelike.”

Rebecca’s voice dipped, the way it did when she got caught. “I’m not making any face.”

Gigi left the store, unwrapping the fudge as she went.

She bit into one of the slabs like a granola bar.

Chocolate dribbled onto the not-quite-knee-length sundress she’d put on for church.

There was something gratifying about an outer mess aligning with an inner one, though mismatched things were more her style.

“Go ahead and judge,” she told Rebecca. “But I’ve got to find some way to keep from physically decaying from boredom this

summer. And this just might be it.”

“Isn’t there something more productive you could do with your time?” Rebecca said. “Like get a part-time job or give some

thought to what you want to do after the summer? We could make a list together.”

This was just like Rebecca, thinking a new list was the solution. “I do have an idea for a business I could start,” Gigi said,

her smile curling up like smoke.

“Oh?” Rebecca said. “I could see you as an entrepreneur. You have the personality for it.”

“Meaning I’m unhinged?”

Rebecca sidestepped the question. “What’s the business idea?”

“A marijuana dispensary on the island.” Gigi loved how she could feel Rebecca’s exasperation through the phone. “There’s definitely

a market for it with the fudgies.”

There was a pause. Gigi wondered if the call had dropped.

“That’s really not what I meant,” Rebecca said. “Aren’t there any other kinds of businesses that pique your interest?”

“Not really.”

After hanging up with Rebecca, Gigi knew what she had to do. It didn’t have to do with the dispensary, though she did think

it was a decent idea. It had to do with James.

She needed to go on a second date with him to determine if she actually liked him or if she was just thinking about him because

there were no other options. In doing so, she could persuade Eloise to give Clyde a second date as well. One for one, two

for two.

Gigi would keep things simple and old-fashioned, as James seemed to prefer. She would simply walk up to the medical clinic, knock on the door, and ask him to lunch.

He would say yes, Gigi was nearly sure of it. Not because he wanted to, perhaps, but because he was too well mannered to decline.

Mackinac had plenty of conflict, but it was the quiet, passive-aggressive kind. No one rejected someone to their face. It

simply wasn’t how things were done. James would know that by now and wouldn’t want to ruffle feathers in the town he relied

on for his employment.

Gigi saw her opening. She was going to take it.

***

Gigi went down to the medical clinic the next afternoon. She wore board shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Dressing down always

made her feel up for more. Like no one expected anything of her, so she could only over-deliver.

The small waiting room was packed with patients. Most were women. None seemed very sick.

“I’d like to see James,” Gigi told Helen, the receptionist. Helen had never been Gigi’s biggest fan, not since Gigi had babysat

for her kids many years ago and let them watch an R-rated movie. Little Charlie had nightmares for months afterward, or so

Helen had hyperbolized to the whole town.

“Dr. Kentwood has a long wait.” Helen nodded toward the roomful of women. Some were touching up their makeup. Others were

sizing up Gigi. “But Dr. Moore can see you now.”

“It has to be James,” Gigi said. “I don’t need an appointment, just five minutes.”

“You’ll need to wait in line like the rest of the patients.”

“Could you just tell him I’m here? He’ll want to see me.” She hoped that was true.

One of the office doors swung open. James stood there in a white lab coat and khakis. He looked like a doctor on a TV show but without the pomp and circumstance. There was a confidence about him that hadn’t been there in his horseback riding attire or even his track suit.

“Gigi,” James said. “Thought I heard your voice.”

Gigi was glad he found her so recognizable. “I need to talk with you about something—”

Helen interjected, “She doesn’t have an appointment.”

“It’ll only take a minute.” Gigi was chewing too hard on the piece of gum in her mouth.

“It’s okay, Helen,” James said. “I’ve got time.” He gestured for Gigi to join him in his office.

The office was a tight cube, the walls bare. A single window with the blinds down, fluorescent ceiling lights humming. Orderly

folders and a lone potted succulent on the mahogany desk. It felt very sterile, like the office environment Gigi had always

feared.

“Very uplifting, this place,” Gigi said.

“Thank you,” James said, scooping up the sarcasm and serving it right back. “But I’m only here for the summer. No point getting

too comfortable.”

The reminder poked Gigi like a thorn. Not that she herself was sticking around beyond August. “Right.”

“So. What did you want to talk about?” James took a sip of water from the thermos on his desk. She hoped she’d made his throat

go dry.

“I wanted to say that I think you’re right,” she said.

“Right about what?”

“I can be a bit severe.”

James shifted on his feet. He was standing close to her, not tucked behind his desk. “Angular,” he corrected. “I said ‘angular.’

And I really didn’t mean it as a negative.”

“Well, it’s true. I am angular. I’ve had to develop some sharp edges.

” Gigi could launch into her “child of divorce” story but didn’t.

It tended to scare guys off. “But the angles come with upsides too,” she went on.

“I bargain for cheaper rent; I persuade managers to hire me; I put creepy men in their place. And I get guys I like to go out with me.”

James’s eyes flickered. Their gray felt brighter today, the color of the lake right before the sun came up. “I’m sure you

do.”

“So, are you in for lunch tomorrow?” Gigi asked.

“What’s that?”

“Lunch tomorrow,” Gigi repeated, affecting the bravado she didn’t quite feel. “You and me.”

“You’re asking me out?”

“You’re very intelligent, James. I see why you’re a doctor.”

He smiled, teeth poking through. But his posture stiffened. “I’ll have to get back to you.”

“Because of Lillian?”

He didn’t say anything.

“I see.” Gigi made for the door and was already outside on the clinic’s front steps when James caught up with her.

“Did your mom put you up to this?” he asked.

“No,” Gigi said. “She doesn’t know I’m here.”

“And it’s not a dare or something?”

“I don’t give in to peer pressure.”

James nodded. He looked like he believed her. “Can I let you know later today?” he said. “About lunch?”

“If you have to think about whether you want to go out with me again, I think that’s your answer,” Gigi said. “I may not have

a college degree, but I can read the signs.”

“I’m not unsure,” James said. “It’s just a little complicated. Can I have your number?”

Gigi tried hard not to let him see how happy that made her. He passed over his phone. She punched in her digits and saved

her name with a red heart.

She hadn’t even made it back to Thistle Dew when her phone rang.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Gigi. It’s James Kentwood.”

She usually hated when people called instead of texted, but her insides soared without permission. “Ah, as opposed to the

other James I was waiting to hear from. Thank you for clarifying.”

“I’m in for lunch tomorrow. How’s noon at the Pink Pony?”

Gigi had to work to keep from sounding too happy about it. “That works,” she said. “See you then.”

She hung up quickly, before James could change his mind.