Page 202 of The Havenport Collection

Luke

I would never admit this out loud under pain of death, but I liked having Nora around.

She usually came over in the evenings to shower, maybe throw in a load of laundry, and bust my balls.

It was fun, and I found myself looking forward to her company.

It was Friday night, and I would usually head out to grab a beer or dig in to some work, but I found myself wanting to see Nora.

I threw my coat and boots on and headed over to her back door. Through the repaired glass, I saw her, standing in her kitchen with her hands on her hips. Her hair was knotted on top of her head, and she was wearing a tank top.

I took a minute to admire her, noting the visible black bra strap and the graceful curve of her neck. Every time I saw her, she took my breath away. You would think after six years, I would have gotten used to seeing her, but it never changed.

She looked up and scowled at me through the glass. What an auspicious start to the evening.

She opened the door and shivered when a cold burst of wind hit her. I had to resist the urge to pull her into my body to warm her up. Those thoughts were certainly not welcomed or reciprocated.

“So I was going to make some s’mores,” I said, gesturing to my outdoor fireplace that I had spent an hour preparing. “Wanna join me?” I held up a bag of marshmallows.

“S’mores?”

“You’ve had a rough week. Thought this could help.”

She eyed me suspiciously.

“Don’t judge, Nora. We both know they are delicious.”

“That’s true, I guess. Okay. Let me get bundled up and I’ll meet you out there.”

Nora returned a few minutes later and took a seat next to me by the fire. “Here’s my contribution to the evening,” she said, passing me a small bottle.

“Fireball?”

She shrugged. “I bought it a while ago and have had it in my kitchen. It miraculously survived the fire, so I feel like we should drink it together.”

So she did remember the wedding. Clearly something must have stuck with her. I could feel myself getting excited and needed to slow down.

We didn’t get along.

We were just neighbors.

“Why aren’t you out tonight?” I asked.

She stared into the firelight.

“Tell me. We’re friends now.”

“We are not friends. We are neighbors and acquaintances who tolerate each other.”

“Yet you are spending your Friday night with me.”

She took a bite of her s’more, and I watched as she licked marshmallow off her bottom lip. It made my brain briefly fantasize about licking marshmallow off all of her body parts.

“Only because all my girls are coupled-up and busy. If I had better options, trust me, I would be exercising them right now.” She took a hair elastic off her wrist and wound her hair up into some complicated knot before pulling her knit hat back on.

I was mesmerized by the sight of her neck in the firelight.

I wondered what she tasted like in the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Did she like being kissed there?

I shook my head. I needed to reestablish some mental boundaries here.

“No dates?” I said, instantly regretting this line of questioning.

“Nope. I hate dating and I’m over it. I don’t need men fucking up my life.”

I took a sip of whiskey from the bottle and handed it to her. “Seems like you need this.”

“I do.”

“Want to elaborate?”

“You first. Why aren’t you married? You are attractive enough that it distracts from your shitty personality. And you’re rich.”

“I have no intention of ever getting married.”

“Okay, a girlfriend then. There was a time I recall you squiring a new woman around town every week.”

I felt embarrassed but also intrigued. So Nora noticed? I had dated a lot. Back in California and here in Massachusetts too. It required so little work—generally women sort of threw themselves in my direction so there were always some around. It was fun for a bit, but then it wasn’t.

“I’m not sure how to say this without sounding like an asshole.”

“Luke, you always sound like an asshole to me.”

“Fair enough. Most women are interested in my money or what I can do for them. They aren’t interested in me.

” It was weird saying that out loud. I knew it was true, and I’m surely not the first guy to feel this way, but I hated admitting it.

But it was true. Money was a bubble that protected you and made your life easier, but it also prevented intimacy and attracted the wrong kind of people.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, please. You hate me—you’d probably say my money was my only attractive feature.”

“Not true. I’d say your shoulders and your eyes are your only attractive features.”

“Don’t make me blush, Nora.”

“It’s true. I can dislike you while being honest about your physical charms, Luke.

I am woman enough to admit that when you keep your mouth shut you are pretty hot.

” I had drunk a bit of whiskey, but I carefully filed that information away for the future.

Nora Rossi just admitted to being attracted to me.

My face flushed and my heart pounded. If I had been a braver man, I would have leaned over and kissed her right then and there.

But I was a coward, too afraid of messing up this delicate friendship we had struck up.

“Thank you for the compliment, Nora, but I dated a lot in California, and then came back here and dropped everything when my mom got sick.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Pancreatic cancer. But we had time together. I got to be with her and give her my attention, and she was suffering and it just…it just changed me. After she died I was lost. I was dating a lot—as you seem to have noticed—and throwing money around with different investments.”

She reached over and grasped my hand. Even through our winter gloves I could feel the heat of it, and it calmed me. “She was really lucky to have such a devoted son.”

I nodded. “I wish I could have done more. I miss her so much. This probably sounds totally strange, but I feel less Korean without her too. She was the one who helped me connect with my heritage.”

She gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m so sorry. How are things going?”

“Not great. After she passed, I just spun out. And I haven’t really recovered. I’m just floating along. I’m working more—doing a ton with the crisis center and serving on some boards. But I’m just not sure what to do now. I’m thirty-nine years old and I’m sort of…lost. Something is missing.”

“I get it. I used to feel like something was missing. And then I realized it was me. I was missing self-acceptance and self-love. I was punishing myself for all my mistakes and not taking a moment to be grateful for how far I’ve come.”

I squeezed her hand back. “Thanks. I know it’s me. I feel like a disaster right now.”

“You? Oh please. Look who you are talking to! My life is an utter disaster at the moment. But I’m hustling, and I believe in myself and what I’m doing. And that’s something.”

“It is. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a disaster.” I dropped her hand, afraid of the things I was feeling. I took another sip of whiskey and handed the bottle to her, desperate to change the subject.

“Did you grow up around here?” she asked.

I hesitated. I never talked about my childhood and background. Privacy was so important to me; I never wanted anyone knowing my secrets. But for some strange reason I felt compelled to tell Nora whatever she wanted to know. “Westbury,” I replied.

I registered the shock on her face.

I didn’t need to elaborate further. Westbury was a small town west of Havenport.

It was a working-class, postindustrial town that never quite recovered from the demise of the local logging industry in the seventies.

It was cheap, it was accessible to Boston, and Mom and I made our home there for a long time.

I still kept in touch with some of my teachers, without whom I would have never made it through high school, never mind to MIT and then Silicon Valley.

“We’d come to Havenport a lot,” I said, remembering the fun Mom and I would have together. “We couldn’t afford to eat out. But we would window shop and then read the menus posted outside and decide what we would order when we got to go there one day.

She shook her head. “Sorry. This was just not what I was expecting. For some reason I thought you were a privileged rich kid. You know the type—claim to be self-made when they started a business with a loan from their daddy.”

“Nope. Not me. I wouldn’t take a fucking cent from my bastard father. That’s for sure.”

Her eyebrows lifted, and I needed to change the subject to avoid any follow-up questions.

“That’s why I love Cuccina Liguria and made friends with your dad, because growing up that was the pinnacle of fine dining in my mind.

I remember one year—it was Christmastime— and we came to Havenport to see Santa come in on the boat and light the town tree.

We were walking by the restaurant. There’s a table in the front picture window; it’s huge. ”

“That’s the family table. Only for family.”

“And I remember seeing a big gathering of people, young and old. And at the very front, in the window, was a little girl in a fluffy pink dress. The table was filled with food and wine and presents, and I remember thinking that’s what I wanted—a big family with lots of food and presents and love.”

I looked over and saw Nora’s eyes tearing up in the firelight.

“I had no idea, Luke.”

“Was that you? The girl in the fluffy dress?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. My dad opened the restaurant before I was born, and my mother was forever dressing me up in fancy clothes and making me sit still for endless family dinners.”

I smirked. That little girl stuck out in my mind with her fancy clothes and big family. I held her in my mind when things got tough for Mom and me. “Seems like you made quite the impression on me thirty years ago,” I said.

“You wouldn’t be the first man to tell me that,” she quipped, sticking her tongue out at me.