Content warning

This short story contains suggestions of dementia, mention of cheating and orgies, and explicit vanilla heterosexual sex.

Penelope Norman glared at the sign as she drove past, recalling the moment she had left twelve years ago, swearing she'd never return.

"So much for promises," she muttered, leaning over to turn down the radio as she made the first left on Mulberry Street, noting how every house on the street was exactly the same and yet not, time having blurred the edges of her memory. She sighed as her trusty Honda crept down the narrow lane. The MacDonald's blue house squatted on the corner, trees and yard perfectly maintained as always. She remembered the feel of the old wooden fence beneath her palms as she and Cassie hopped over it, cutting the corner as they made their way into town, ignoring Mrs. MacDonald's nervous shouts of "Girls! You're going to hurt yourselves!"

Next door, beyond the fence, was the yellow clapboard of the Willis home—she and Cassie had spent many long nights in that backyard chatting with Pam and Charlotte Willis, often tossing insults to the James boys who lived next door in the old red house before the Norman home.

Penny took a deep breath as she turned into the gravel driveway of her childhood home, hearing the angry groan of her old car as she bumped her way closer, settling into park next to a faded blue pickup. The plates were up to date, so she assumed her sister must be driving Dad's old truck these days. She hoped he wasn't still driving, not if the updates Cassie had been sending were accurate.

Cassie: He has his good days but not so often anymore.

Penny: Do you need me?

Cassie: I always need you, sis.

Cassie: But seriously, I don't know how much longer he will know us. If you are coming home, you need to do it soon.

Penny hadn't planned on abandoning the life she had built for herself running Gallery 333 at Abraxus Tasker College, but when the grant had ended, and she found herself facing an admin position or going back to teaching Art History 101 to undergrads, Penny thought it might be the universe telling her it was time.

And maybe Trent had been part of her decision to upend her life and scuttle home, she admitted, resting her forehead on the steering wheel and taking another long slow breath. She tried not to picture her handsome ex, the smug philosophy professor so calm and collected as he rationalized his extracurricular affairs.

"But it's only natural," he had explained, using the tone he employed with recalcitrant students arguing a grade, as if she were crazy to be upset to find out he'd been fucking not only one, but all three of his teaching assistants—usually at the same time. Penny wasn't against a good time—but she had thought they were exclusive. Stupidly, she had thought they actually had something. But then he had stood there explaining how monogamy wasn't natural and fucking coeds was, and Penny decided that she was ready to listen to the signs the universe was sending her way.

She wasn't thrilled to show up home with her trunk full of her suddenly pathetic life's work, a paltry three suitcases and several cardboard boxes of sketchbooks and paintings crowding her back seat.

What would Mom think? The thought was surprising. Penny hadn't thought of her mother often over the years, her face a distant memory in old photo albums. She had drowned in a boating accident when Penny was ten, and then it had just been her and Cassie. Dad was there, but not really, not like before, and Penny had spent a lot of time alone in the big house and the nearby guest house, fending for herself until a scholarship let her flee small town Maine for the big wide world.

And she had seen it—London, Paris, Rome—before landing the gig running the gallery at XTC. Now just past 30, she was back home, not quite a failure, but not at all what she thought her life would be. The blurry Mom in her memory smiled at her, but she didn't say anything. Penny had forgotten the sound of her voice.

Sitting up, she unbuckled her seatbelt and snatched the cup from the center console, drinking the final cold sip of gas station coffee. She opened her door, spotting the garbage can next to the garage door, still the same after all the years. Cassie had said she didn't change things anymore, not when it might upset Dad. She tossed her cup, then went back to her car and grabbed the backpack from the passenger seat, shrugging it over one shoulder. She automatically went to lock the door, then laughed, glancing around at the quiet street, the few houses.

People in Murphy Harbor didn't lock their doors. They left car keys in the car. Smiling, Penny didn't lock the door, but she still put her keys in her bag, not quite ready to completely abandon her security habits.

Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face the house, walking up the old stone steps carved into the ground before the front porch and then treading carefully on the old wooden stairs of the porch.

The swing was still there, yellow cushions just waiting for her to curl up with a cup of coffee and watch the sunset over the nearby trees.

She had a brief flash of her last time on that swing, trying to avoid Lester Murphy's heartbroken gaze as she tried to explain why she had to leave.

He hadn't understood, of course, but Penny knew she had to escape the town bearing his family name before his baby blues convinced her to throw away her future and stay.

She wondered what her life would be like if she had stayed: likely she'd have five kids by now, all running underfoot while her art supplies sat on a shelf in a closet somewhere.

But she doubted Les would have lectured her about how orgies with his coworkers were natural and she was unreasonable to expect his devotion.

Shaking her head, she reached the top step, seeing that the screen was closed but the door was actually open. She heard movement from within, and she raised her hand to knock, then dropped it.

It's home, she thought. Why am I knocking?

"Dad?" she called tentatively. "Is that you?" She paused as the movement within paused, then resumed, slow steps shuffling from the kitchen in the back of the house to the front hall. "Cassie," she blurted, "what the hell?"

"And welcome home to you too, sis," Cassie replied, maneuvering her hugely pregnant belly to swing the door open.

"What—?" Penny managed, staring at her sister's belly in shock. "Who—?" She managed to collect her racing thoughts, then looked up at her sister's face, the familiar eyes and dark hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Cassie shrugged. "Tell my uber successful younger sister that I'm having twins? Not like you would come home to see them."

"Cassie!" Penny said, leaning in to hug her sister. "I would have come home for that."

"Uh huh," Cassie mumbled into Penny's hair, her body relaxing into the unexpected embrace. "Sure."

"How far?" Penny asked.

"Seven months," Cassie replied. "I know—I'm huge." The pregnant woman extricated herself from her sister's arms, then glanced down at the empty space on the porch. "No bags?"

Penny gestured at the driveway, wisely choosing not to comment on her sister's size. "Still in the car," she explained. "I wasn't sure where I would stay…" She let the words trail off, knowing they had turned her old bedroom into an office years ago. There was a guest room downstairs, but Penny wondered if maybe Dad had moved in there in the last few years.

"The back house," Cassie said quickly, referring to the glorified fishing cabin along the water in the backyard. They had fixed it up into a liveable space: an open room with a small kitchen and full bathroom along with a space heater to keep out the chill. "The roof is still getting worked on," she glanced up at the darkening sky, seeing no clouds, "but you should be fine for the moment."

Penny nodded, stopping herself from asking if it was locked. It wouldn't be. She frowned, peering into the house. "Dad?" she asked.

"In his chair," Cassie said, "but he can help carry your things if you want." She turned and headed into the house. "You missed dinner, but we can heat up the leftovers."

"Fish?" Penny asked, recalling the staple food in Murphy Harbor.

"Chicken," Cassie snapped. "I work with fish all day. We rarely eat it at home anymore."

"Oh," Penny said, following her down the hall into the kitchen. "Where are you working now?" There weren't many options in the small town.

"I don't want your judgment," Cassie said, pausing in the kitchen to pull a plate from the cabinet. Despite her large belly, she moved fine in the space, fixing Penny a plate as if all the years between them had never happened. She popped it in the microwave, then gestured to the room off the kitchen. "Today's a good day." Penny could hear the hum of the TV from the family room—Dad was watching a western. Some things never changed.

"No judgment," Penny insisted, but she was already walking away, hoping that her dad would be better than her sister's messages suggested. She turned the corner and saw the back of his head, more white than gray now, and her heart tightened a bit in her chest. "Dad?" she called out, her voice soft and hesitant.

The man in the chair moved, twisting around to face her, and Penny saw that her father had aged, but he was still the man she knew. He squinted, then reached out to the table next to him, retrieving a pair of glasses that he settled on his nose. He gave her a longer look, then a slow smile crossed his lips. "Penelope," he said, standing up. "You're home!"

Penny swallowed the lump in her throat, fear disappearing as she closed the distance between them, hugging her father. "I'm here, Dad," she said. "I'm home."

Penny woke abruptly to discover two things: she was soaking wet and freezing, and someone was in the guest house with her. She leaped off the futon, tossing aside the sopping blanket and getting to her feet, hands raised to attack the intruder.

"What the hell!" she shouted, shuffling to the small table and finding the lamp switch with wet fingers. She half lifted it from the table, brandishing it as a weapon, before a voice cut across her sleep-induced panic.

"Penny! It's me!"

She lowered the lamp, staring across the room to see Lester Murphy with his hands up. Dressed in a flannel shirt over a white t-shirt and blue jeans, he still held a folded square of blue plastic in one hand. The years had been kind to him, adding a rugged beauty to the boy she had known.

"Les," she breathed, suddenly aware that she was standing in front of her ex wearing a soaked white sleep shirt that clung to her body, leaving very little to the imagination now that she had turned on the light. "What are you doing here?"

He gestured with the plastic, which she recognized as a tarp. She realized it was raining. She could hear it both outside on the roof, but she could also see water dripping through the ceiling right over the futon. "Fixing the roof?" he replied. "I didn't know anyone was in here." He stared at her, eyes tracking the shape of her body beneath the shirt, and then looked away quickly. "I didn't realize you were back."

Penny put the lamp back on the table and crossed her arms in front of her chest, aware again of how cold she was. September rain in Maine was no joke. "I just got in tonight." She looked at where she had tossed the blanket on the floor and leaned down to pick it up, hoping for either modesty or warmth. The cold material wasn't much help on either front, and she winced, looking for her suitcase on the floor next to the futon and frowning at the dark wet cover. She hadn't brought everything inside, but it looked like she would need to get something dry from the car anyway.

Les tracked her gaze, immediately seeing that her clothes were as soaked as she was, and he jumped into action, always the problem solver. A few moments later, she was holding a fresh dry blanket from the closet, a small fire blazed in the heater by the back door, the futon had been pushed out of the way against the far wall, and her suitcase was open on the small table. Les had disappeared outside into the dark rain with the tarp, and she heard him clamber up the ladder.

Penny glanced out the open back door to where the ladder rested against the edge of the roof, wondering how much time she had. A gust of wind brought more rain inside the large room, and she shivered, more goosebumps running over her body.

"Fuck it," she mumbled, moving close to the heater and jerking her soaked nightshirt over her head. She used the tiny dry spots to mop her face and then grabbed the dry blanket, wrapping it around her body like a toga and reveling in the warmth.

By the time the water stopped pouring through the roof and Les had come back down, Penny had spread her wet clothing around the house on all the available surfaces—which wasn't many. The guest house was a large open room with one corner blocked off for the bathroom, with a front and back door creating a path for easy airflow in the summer, and a small kitchen against the back wall. It was originally a fishing cabin, like everything else in these parts, built well before the house and the rest of the street, a holdover from before Murphy's Harbor became a small town. Beyond the back door where Les now stood was a small dock leading into the water, a small inlet from the ocean.

Other than the soaked futon and small kitchen table, there was little furniture beyond a few folding chairs leaned up next to the front door. Penny wondered if more was stored in the garage since the guest house obviously wasn't being lived in. She heard the ladder clang shut, and then Les was back inside with her, the large space suddenly too small for the both of them and all their history.

Les wiped his wet face, dragging his short hair behind his ears, then tucked his hands in his pockets. He gestured at her with his chin, then glanced at the small heater. "You better?"

Penny nodded. "Thanks," she mumbled, shuffling awkwardly in her makeshift toga.

Les took in the wide spread of her wet clothing, then sniffed. "This everything you brought?"

Penny shook her head. "I have more in the car." She glanced at the front door. "I can go get something."

"You got an umbrella?" he asked, and she laughed, looking at her blanket toga.

"Would it help?" she asked. Taking a few cautious steps in his direction, she took in his wet clothing. "You should get out of those," she said. "It's cold."

"You been home one day, and you're already trying to get me naked?" He winked at her, suddenly the Les she knew as his hands quickly undid the few buttons on his wet flannel. "That's the Penny I remember."

"I'm not—" she started, then paused.

Les raised an eyebrow, then tugged his wet t-shirt over his head in a smooth motion that had sudden heat pooling in Penny's belly. She had thought of Lester Murphy often over the years, and her memory had not done him justice. His chest was muscled and hard, no doubt from the work he did at the fish market.

"Oh my Cod," she mumbled.

"What's that, darling?" he asked, hands pausing at his belt.

"I mean, are you still there? At Oh my Cod?" In high school, Les had started working in his family business, lugging the fish inside and butchering it for sale at Cod for You, the nearby fish and chip shop also run by his family.

"And here I thought you were just admiring my beauty," Les mused. "Yes, I'm still there."

"How's business?" she blurted, not sure what else to say while standing in a blanket nearly drooling over a man she hadn't seen in more than a decade.

"Excellent," he replied. "Are we doing this then? A trip down memory lane?" He reached for his boots. "I should definitely get more comfortable."

Penny watched him bend over, enjoying the lines of his back and hips as he removed both boots and tucked them next to the small heater. Part of her felt guilty. She didn't know anything about Les. Maybe he was married. Maybe he had a family waiting at home for him.

Would he be out here in the middle of the night if he had a family?

"Why are you here?" she blurted, and he leaned against the closed door, studying her.

"I thought I was getting comfortable. Figured if I stand here long enough, you'll draw me again."

She chuckled, knowing that at least half of a box in her back seat was full of sketch books containing sketches of the body before her, though a younger version. "Seriously," she said, "why are you out here in the middle of the night?"

"Fixing the roof," he repeated.

"But why wouldn't you just wait until tomorrow? Surely your family would…" She trailed off, hoping he would take the bait and answer the question.

"You want to know about my family?" he asked, standing up straight and taking a step closer to her. "Your concern warms my heart." He paused, typing a finger against his chin. "My parents are fine. Dad still runs the Codfather with Nick, and Mom does all her town events, including the gallery." Penny nods, recalling the fishing boat the Murphys used to catch the fish that Les sold at the market. She was glad to know the gallery had survived. It had been a new thing when she had left, not enough to hold her in town with the hope that some art might be a part of her life.

"And Mike?" she asked, naming his middle brother. He used to work at Cod for You with Lester's uncle Joseph.

"Figured your sister would have told you all about him," Les commented, taking another step closer to her, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Cassie?" she asked. "Why would she…" Her eyes widened as she put it together. "No way!" she exclaimed. "Seriously, with Mike Murphy?"

"Not sure why that shocks you, Penny," he said, taking another step toward her. He was so close now. "I seem to recall you enjoying a bit of Murphy back in the day."

"But Cassie…" Penny frowns, remembering the guys her sister had dated back when Peny still lived at home—preppy summer bungalow types who would vanish along with the warm weather each year. "So she works with him there," she said, recalling Cassie's comments about working with fish all day and not eating it at home. "Nice."

"Nice?" he echoed. "Says the girl who ran off to see the world?"

"I'm not allowed to see the world?" she countered, an old anger rising.

He shrugged. "You're allowed to do whatever you want," he assured her, taking the final step and closing the distance between them. "And whomever."

"And you?" she prompted. "Where are you living these days?" She swallowed, then just added boldly, "And with whom?"

The front door swung open, and they both turned to face Cassie, who stood inside, shaking off an umbrella. Seeing their state of undress, her sister paused, then shook her head.

"Seriously? I thought I'd come let you know Les was coming over to cover the roof, but I see you've already started getting … reacquainted."

Penny flushed, suddenly in high school again and busted by her older sister making out with Les in the guest house, and adjusted the blanket around her body. "Everything got wet," she stammered.

"I can see that," Cassie quipped, then gestured at Les. "You. Thanks for the tarp. Now get out."

"Ma'am," Les said, walking back to the heater to pick up his boots, then carried them as he approached Cassie. He turned back to nod at Penny, then ducked out the door into the rain.

"Les!" Penny cried, hating that he would get soaked in the downpour.

"Relax," Cassie told her. "It's not far and he's a grown man with dry clothes at home. He'll be fine. You, on the other hand, what the hell are you doing?"

Penny sniffed, then pulled the blanket closer around her neck. "Drying?" she tried.

Cassie shook her head. "You don't even know how long you're staying here, and already you're going to break the heart of the guy who finally managed to get it together again?"

"Why do you care so much?" Penny snapped, a flare of suspicious jealousy flaring. She glanced at Cassie's belly, suddenly wondering if her assumption of the father was incorrect.

"Because Mike spent years helping his brother get over you, and I'm not letting you waltz in here and put us all back to square one on the first day!"

Penny leaned back against the kitchen table, sighing heavily as guilt swirled through her. Finally looking up, she grimaced. "Was it really that bad?"

Cassie glared at her. "No doubt as bad as you were that first year away at school. Pretty sure you texted me every day."

Penny nodded. "Thanks for being there for me." She frowned. "And I'm sorry for abandoning you here and then charging back in and upsetting everything."

Cassie shook her head, face softening as she pulled a folding chair from the wall, opened it, and sat down. "It's fine," she said, hand rubbing her belly. "And you didn't abandon me. I get it. Believe me, I do." She looked up at her sister. "What I don't get is why you're back. What the hell happened?"

Penny scooted a wet pair of jeans aside and hopped up on the table, falling easily back into old habits. "You needed me," she said simply.

"That's not new," Cassie told her.

"Dad…" Penny tried.

"Dad has been sliding for years now," Cassie reminded her. "Try again."

"My position expired and I had to choose a new job?"

"Bullshit. You still had the art, even in different ways. That isn't it either."

Penny let her head hang, voice small. "My boyfriend…"

"There it is," Cassie said. "Tell me about this jerk," she demanded, settling back in the chair.

The next day, Penny found herself walking slowly down Main Street, seeing the buildings both as they were in her memory and as they were now, realizing that very little had changed. The general store was still the biggest business on the street, dwarfing the diner next door and the little knickknack shop on the other side. She could already smell the fish and chips, a mix of nostalgia and long summer nights conjured by the scent, and she nearly paused to go inside and enjoy some. Seeing the outline of her sister through the window, her pregnant belly hidden below the front counter as she chatted with customers, Penny decided to wait. She wasn't particularly hungry, and the smell was enough for the moment.

Turning away, she scanned the other side of the street. The Gallery caught her attention, an intriguing display of dark oil paintings hanging in the front windows, and she crossed the street to take a closer look. Intrigued despite herself, she studied the paintings, a swirl of dark blues surrounding old ships on high seas.

"Well, I'll be," an old familiar voice said, and Penny turned to see Mrs. Murphy approaching with a to go cup of coffee in one hand and a set of keys in the other. "If it isn't Penelope Norman! Your sister said you might be coming back to town."

"Mrs. Murphy!" Penny said, never sure what to say to the matriarch of the Murphy clan. "How lovely to see you."

The older woman nodded, then began shuffling with the keys and the door, jostling her cup in the process as she attempted to use both hands to unlock it. "Let me help," Cassie offered, holding out a hand for the coffee, but Mrs. Murphy handed her the keys instead.

"Thanks," she said, gesturing at the door. "The lock sticks. Need one of my boys to fix it, but they're all so busy these days."

"No problem," Penny said, finding the right key and putting her shoulder against the door to line up the lock. She was no stranger to finicky doors, and the Gallery was no exception, the door popping open easily, and she pulled it open, gesturing for Mrs. Murphy to go inside. She tried to hand the older woman the keys, but Mrs. Murphy ignored her, forcing Penny to follow her inside.

"Are you staying in town long?" she asked, approaching a small desk off to the right where she set down her coffee and purse. "The exhibition is next week, and I know how much you enjoy art. You should come."

"Thanks," Penny said. "I will."

Les's mother gave her a skeptical look. "So you'll be here next week? Are you here until the babies come then?"

Penny bit her lip, then decided to come clean. It wasn't like everyone wouldn't already know. "Yes, and then some."

"Are you moving back home then, dear? What about your job at Gallery 333?"

"How do you—?" Penny started to ask, but Mrs. Murphy only smiled.

"Cassie tells us everything. She's so proud of you!"

"Oh," Penny stammered, "well, that kind of … ended."

Mrs. Murphy frowned. "Too bad." She looked around, pride obvious in her expression as she studied the small gallery. "It's hard to keep places like this open these days, but we manage. You know we offer art classes now?" At Penny's surprised expression, she continued, "Yeah, supplements the time between openings. You'd be surprised how many parents want their kids to have a basic art education in this town." She paused, then added, "In fact, if you're planning on being here for a little bit, I sure could use a hand in the afternoons. Some of these teens are getting beyond my skills. Maybe you could teach them some of what you learned at college."

"Oh," Penny said, a thrill running through her at the idea of teaching students how to draw—students who actually wanted to learn and weren't just there to check a box on a required list of courses. "That would be wonderful! Thank you so much for the opportunity, Mrs. Murphy."

"Excellent," Mrs. Murphy replied, "and call me Jackie. We're partners now." The older woman gave her a knowing look. "It's good to have you back in town, Penelope."

"It's good to be back," Penny said, meaning it.

They made plans for Penny to come in the following afternoon to teach a group of students, and then Penny left the gallery, feeling hopeful again. She walked aimlessly, knowing that her feet would inevitably take her down to the market on the shore's edge, a mixture of art, crafts, and food—mostly fish. She walked slowly, taking in the few shoppers, people she didn't recognize but knew must be locals from the casual conversations and laughter. Pausing to study a table of crocheted creatures and knickknacks, she let her gaze drift down the rows of tables to where she knew Les would be set up at his stall. The coolers of ice were just as she recalled, the fish displayed atop them just waiting for a customer. As she watched, a man in a flannel approached, said something quiet to Les, and her ex laughed. He grabbed a huge cod from the ice, then lugged it easily back to his work area, the customer following. She could only see the top part of Les's chest as he worked, but she remembered that look of concentration as he efficiently cleaned and filleted the fish, keeping up charming small talk as he worked.

He finished with the customer, sending the man off to a cashier with a brown package tucked under arm, and seeing he was free, Penny strolled over. "Fancy meeting you here," she said.

Les looked at her, taking in the jeans and t-shirt beneath a blue hoodie. "Penelope Norman," he greeted. "You are wearing far more clothes than I hoped for."

Penny laughed, unable to stop herself. Something about Les had always been able to charm her. "Were you hoping for the blanket toga again?"

"A man can dream," he said, leaning forward on the clean counter. "What brings you into town?"

"Just walking," she told him. "Taking it all in."

"Is it what you remember?" he asked.

She frowned. "Yes and no? Your mother asked me to help teach some classes at the gallery, so that's new."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I figured Mom would snag you first chance she got. She's got her hands full with that place."

"I'm surprised she would want anything to do with me," Penny said.

"Why?" He looked genuinely confused.

"Because I left," Penny said, thinking of what Cassie had told her. And here she was doing it again, chatting with Les as if no time had passed.

"So?" Les said. "You're back now."

"I am," Penny agreed, feeling the heat of his stare. "Actually," she said, "I think I'd like some fish."

Les raised an eyebrow. "Trust me—Cassie will not want you cooking fish for dinner. She gave Mike an earful the last time he tried."

"Okay then," she tilted her head, "maybe I will cook fish for myself in the guest house then."

"That's fair," he said, then reached for a fish and began cleaning it with sharp efficient movements. He considered the filleted fish on the counter before him, then cut it into two pieces. "I seem to have mismeasured," he said, frowning at her. "How about I come help you eat it?"

Penny smiled, knowing that one thing Lester Murphy would never do is mismeasure a fish. Wondering if Cassie would blame her for Les basically inviting himself to dinner, she asked, "What time works for you?"

That evening, Penny managed to cook an entire dinner without any mishaps, and she was plating the fish when Les knocked on the guest house door. "Just come in," she told him. "Don't start knocking now."

"Hey, I didn't know you were in here last night," he defended, coming inside and looking around. "What happened to your clothes?"

"There's this magical invention called a dryer," she snarked. "It's in the garage."

He nodded, then sat in the chair she gestured to. He scanned the room, eyes settling on a small dresser against the wall near the still drying futon. An oscillating fan was running, blowing air on the still damp material. "That's different," he commented, scooting closer to the table. "Don't want to live out of a suitcase?"

Penny filled his wine glass, then said, "No. I thought I'd need something more … long term. It was in the garage."

"You're really staying then?" he asked, voice hopeful.

"Looks that way," Penny admitted.

Les looked at his plate, then lifted the glass and held it out to her. "To new beginnings," he said, eyes twinkling.

Penny sat down, raising her glass to his. "To new beginnings," she agreed. They ate slowly, a comfortable silence settling around them, and when they finished, Les helped her clean up, the two of them moving carefully around one another in the small space, intuitively knowing how to get the job done without any awkward bumps or moments.

When the dishes were resting in the dishrack to dry, Penny made coffee, and the two of them wandered out to the back deck to drink it as the sun sank below the horizon behind them.

"It's funny," Penny commented, thinking of how easily she had slipped back into her old life. "It's like I haven't been gone at all."

Les tipped his head in her direction. "I wouldn't say that. I definitely knew you weren't here."

"I know you're going to say I should stop apologizing, but I am sorry for what happened between us," she told him. "I had to go, though, or I would never have been content here."

Les nodded, always seeming to understand her in ways that no one else over the years had. "I know." He paused, sipping his coffee, then raised an eyebrow. "I hope you don't think I was just sitting here all these years, waiting around for you to come home. I lived my own life."

"Did you?" Penny asked. "Tell me about it."

They spent the next few hours talking, Les sharing about the two years he had left home for Bar Harbor, learning more of his trade from the experts there before coming back to run the market. He didn't mention any specific names, but Penny got the impression he'd had his share of romances and flings over the years. Just like her, though, nothing seemed to last very long.

It was full dark when the breeze picked up, making Penny shiver, and Les slid closer to her on the wooden bench, lending his familiar heat to her side. She tucked into his arm, bodies fitting together like she remembered. When he leaned over to kiss the top of her head, Penny reached over to hold his hand. They sat that way for a time, enjoying the careful touching. Penny recalled many nights that started the same way, both of them waiting until it was dark enough that they wouldn't be seen by anyone in the house, not that Penny's dad was ever there enough to check on her like that. Cassie had been a typical older sister, enjoying her chances to interrupt them when she could.

But Cassie was tucked up in the house, and despite a raised eyebrow at Penny's dinner plans, she hadn't contradicted her sister. Penny had heard a truck pull up the driveway while they were eating, and she assumed Mike was visiting for the evening.

"So, Cassie and Mike," she said, her thoughts breaking free, "when did that happen?"

Les shrugged, tugging her closer. "About three years ago. Started out light, just some fun at work, but then it just stuck. They'd been working together for years, and when she got pregnant, it just made sense."

"Are they going to live here then?" she asked. "In this house with Dad?"

Les nodded behind her. "That's the plan. Mike's still got his place on the beach, but I think that will be the vacation home. This house has the room for babies."

Penny nodded, thinking of how she could fit into this life here. She sat up, turning to look at him, her eyes catching on the movement of the tarp on the roof behind them. "And when do you think you'll get this roof fixed, Mr. Jack of All Trades?"

He grinned. "No worries. Just waiting on the supplies to get delivered on Saturday. I'll have you snug as a bug and ready for winter weather before you know it." He paused, then added, "Though this may be a bit drafty come January. You may need to find something a bit more insulated."

"You sound like you have something in mind," Penny said. "Where are you living these days?" She thought of him walking out into the rain last night, boots in hand. It couldn't be too far.

He gestured down the street. "On the corner," he told her. "I bought the MacDonald house when Mrs. MacDonald passed."

"Seriously?" She frowned at him. "That's a lot of house for one person."

"I hoped I would fill it one day," he said, leaning down to look at her. "You know, if the right person came along."

"And has she?" Penny asked, the question hanging in the air between them.

"Maybe," he whispered, then he kissed her. His mouth was familiar, soft and warm, and she leaned into the kiss, fingers twining in his hair as she turned into him fully. His hands slid down her back, and then he was moving her to sit on his lap, her legs easily wrapping around his hips as she settled into position. She could feel his hard length pressing into her through his jeans and she moved a little, rubbing against him the way she knew he liked. He moaned against her mouth, tongue finding hers as the kiss deepened.

Her hands slid down his neck and over his shoulders, fingers seeking bare skin under his collar, and she groaned, pushing even closer to him. He grasped her butt, lifting her up, and she shivered, wanting to be closer. They were both wearing way too many clothes for this, but it was too chilly to just get naked like they were in high school. She thought of the damp futon inside, dismissing it, then considered the sturdiness of the kitchen table. She knew the counters would work in a pinch.

Les seemed to be on the same page as he broke the kiss. "We should go inside," he said, stealing soft kisses between his words.

"The futon is still wet," she told him. "But there's always the floor."

"Where were you going to sleep tonight?" he asked, pulling back to look at her. "Were you seriously going to sleep on the floor?"

"I found an air mattress in the garage," she said. "I didn't pull it out yet."

"Well that could be interesting," he said, then stood up, lifting her easily. Penny clung to him, glad for the yoga and pilates that kept her core strength intact, and he walked to the guest house. "Where's this mattress?" he asked, setting her down on the table with another kiss. She gestured behind her to the front door where she had put the bag earlier that day. The folding chair from the previous night had a stack of pillows and sheets, and her makeshift toga blanket was folded atop the dresser she had dragged over, ready to make her temporary bed.

"You want to blow it up?" she asked, hands sliding around his hips and finding his belt buckle. With a grin, she unbuckled it, sliding the leather slowly out from the loops and tossing it behind her where it clattered on the table and then slid to the floor. Her fingers paused at his buttons as she looked at him, waiting for his reaction.

"You want me to?" he asked, biting his lip in that way she recalled. "I can."

Penny grinned at him. "Tell you what: how about a challenge? You blow up that mattress… while I blow something else."

A slow smile crossed Les's lips, and he pressed forward between her legs, her hands working his buttons. "You always did love a good game," he whispered, then leaned down to kiss her while she worked his pants free, sliding them down and finding his cock hard and ready in her hand. He hissed at her touch, the sound growing into a groan as she began to pump. "That's not fair," he managed. "I can't blow up a mattress from here."

"Fine," she agreed, releasing him. "But those pants should come off either way." She scooted off the table, landing in front of him and kneeling. "I'll get this half. You get the rest."

Les obliged, first unbuttoning his shirt and then sliding his t-shirt off while she tugged off his boots and then his pants and boxers. When he stood there in only his socks, she took a moment to appreciate his body, the muscles harder and more defined than she remembered, but still the man she knew. Unable to resist, she palmed his cock again, this time moving forward to take him in her mouth, relishing the sound he made as she pulled him deep, glad she had finally learned to control her gag reflex since those frantic high school days. As she started to move slowly, one hand stroking his balls, he put both hands on her shoulders to steady himself. "Good god, Penny," he moaned. "I missed you."

She hummed her agreement, the sound making her throat vibrate, and he drew in a sharp breath, hands tightening on her shoulders as she moved faster. "Dirty pool," he murmured, then said nothing for several long moments as she continued to suck. When she paused, letting her throat and mouth relax for a moment, he pounced, tugging her to her feet and claiming her mouth with a hard kiss. His hands moved quickly at her hips, lifting her shirt overhead, and then his nimble fingers were working the clasp of her bra. She shivered as the cool air hit her skin, grateful for the heater's warmth, and then he was lifting her on the table again, pushing her down so her bare back touched the surface they had cleaned hours before.

"My turn," he growled, then he was unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down with her panties. She kicked off her sneakers eagerly, helping him free her legs and then sitting half up on her elbows to look at him as he took in her naked body.

"You like?" she asked, staring at him wickedly.

"Me like," he said, kneeling before her and tugging her body close as he leaned down to kiss her, giving her clit a long suck the way he knew she liked before his fingers slowly worked their way inside her.

"Oh fuck," she managed, letting the riot of sensation overwhelm her as Lester Murphy brought her to the edge and over it with ease. He still knew her body, remembered exactly what she wanted.

"And one more," he purred, tongue gentle now as he took his time, teasing each exclamation from her as the orgasm built again. When she shuddered in his arms again, he paused, looking up over the hills and valleys of her body to see her face. "Again?" he asked, his voice a soft whisper against her sensitive skin.

"Pause," she whispered, the word coming back to her from years ago.

He nodded, then gave her a soft kiss before standing up and leaning over the table to kiss her mouth. She kissed him hard despite the languor in her body, knowing this was only a momentary pause before the festivities would begin again. When he released her, he turned to the front door. "Now let's see about this mattress…"

She heard him shuffling behind her, and by the time she opened her eyes and had recovered enough to focus again, he had the mattress open and the pump working to fill it. She sat up, giggling at the naked man wearing socks working an air pump next to an air mattress in her house.

He glanced over at her, cock still mostly hard as he took in her naked body. "What?"

She slid off the table, making her way over to him. "I believe there was a challenge," she reminded him, kneeling and sliding her hands up his thick thighs. He grinned down at her, half focused on the rising mattress.

"There was," he agreed.

"Let's see if you outlast the mattress," Penny said, then took him in her mouth again, this time moving immediately and quickening her pace.

"Penny," he groaned, eyes closing as his head leaned back. His hand relaxed on the air pump, and the machine kicked off. He startled, then refocused, hand keeping the pump going while she sucked his cock in a smooth rhythm. His free hand fisted in her hair, and his hips moved a bit against her mouth, unable to stop himself. Glancing over at the still not quite full mattress, he groaned again. "Fuck, how old is this thing?"

Penny chuckled but didn't break pace as she continued to pull him deep in the warm heat of her mouth.

"It's enough," he declared, flinging the pump away and jerking her free of him. In one move, Penny found herself on her back on the mostly inflated mattress, her body sinking too deep but not quite hitting the floor. Les was above her, hips between her legs, eager cock pressed against her opening. "You want me?" he asked, leaning down to nip at her nipples while he waited for her answer.

Penny wrapped her legs around him, pulling him close. "Fuck I want you," she told him, and then he was sliding deep inside her. Her head tipped back, and then he was kissing her again, mouth demanding as their bodies met in a frantic rhythm. The mattress made for an interesting surface, both offering resistance and bounce at the same time, and they hurtled their way toward release together. Penny's back hit the floor, and she grunted, then rolled them both smoothly over, Les on the bottom as she climbed atop him, hips rocking steadily as she rode his cock. His hand latched onto her ass, the other sliding between them to press against her clit, and they both cried out, the orgasm smothering them both. Gasping, Penny collapsed against his chest, her knees pressed firmly into the floor beneath the mattress, and she felt the pounding of his heart.

"Les," she finally managed a few moments later, when both of their hearts had settled back to a normal rhythm. She moved her body, pulling free of him and sliding over to lay next to him, her hip landing hard on the floor. "I believe you had one job."

Pulling her close to his side, he kissed the top of her head. "And I'm pretty sure I nailed it," he said smugly.

Penny adjusted, twisting so she could look at him. "So your ass isn't currently pressed into the wooden floor right now?"

He shrugged, the movement adorable as she studied him. "What can I say? It's an old mattress. Must not hold air very well."

"Yeah," she said, sitting up as the remaining air gathered at the edge of the mattress, "that must be it." She sighed. "I guess the floor isn't that terrible," she said. "Better than a wet futon."

Les pulled her down atop him, kissing her deeply. "You know I have a perfectly good bed at my place," he offered. Looking around, he added, "This place is fun for a little while, but it's not great to live in."

Penny raised an eyebrow. "And where am I supposed to live then?"

"With me," he declared, as if it had already been decided. Looking at him, Penny knew it had. The moment she had woken up to find him in here, she had known she had found her home again.

"And this house?" she prompted.

"This is your studio," he said, gesturing to the wall where the futon currently sat. "That's your setup over there. The light in the morning is excellent."

Looking at his face half lit by the lamplight, Penny thought that the light in this place would be good no matter where she stood.

Two weeks later, Penny backed her car out of Les's paved driveway onto Mulberry Street, driving into town because she had a carful of art supplied for her students that afternoon.

As she paused to check for traffic—something that rarely happened, her eye caught the welcome sign across the street.

Murphy Harbor, the sign read. Population 793.