Chapter Thirteen

THIRTEEN

SEPTEMBER 1987

The concert was a nice change of pace, but if Augusta had any doubts before, by the time the musicians took their bows, she was certain: classical music was not for her. She knew what she was supposed to feel when the cellos hummed and the timpani rumbled—she was supposed to be moved to a place beyond words, transported by the sound, swept away. But all she felt was mild irritation at being confined to her seat for so long. It was pleasant enough for the first half hour, but then her calves began to cramp. At intermission, she stared longingly at the door, then trudged back to her seat like a child being punished. Her turquoise beads felt heavy on her neck, and the patent leather slingbacks she’d chosen were giving her the beginnings of a blister.

Afterward, they stopped for frozen yogurt at one of the strip malls on Palmetto Park Road. They filled paper cups from the self-serve machines and waited in line to have them weighed. Since Nathaniel had treated for the tickets, Augusta insisted on paying for dessert. They were overdressed, but Augusta didn’t mind. She was happier in the shop’s pink plastic chairs than she had been in the velvet auditorium seats.

“So fill me in,” said Nathaniel. “It’s been at least sixty years. What have you been doing with yourself all this time?”

“Working mostly,” said Augusta. “You remember my father? I went to work for him when I graduated pharmacy school, and when he died, I took over the store. Ran it myself for twenty years. After that, I worked in a couple of hospitals. I only retired a few months ago, and that’s how I ended up in Florida.”

“Wow,” said Nathaniel. “You’ve certainly been busy! I bet you kept your husband on his toes.”

Augusta shook her head. “Not exactly. I never got married.”

Nathaniel’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “I thought… I assumed… that you were widowed. Like me.”

Augusta stirred her cup of yogurt. “I suppose I never found the right person,” she said. “But enough about me—tell me about you. How many kids did you and Evie have?”

“Three,” said Nathaniel. “Two girls and a boy. My son is in L.A. and the girls are in New York, but we all get together up in Maine every summer. One of my daughters is a doctor, too—a cardiologist, like me. I’ve got seven grandkids, if you can believe it.”

“Seven! Goodness! That house must be bursting at the seams!”

“It’s what Evie always wanted,” said Nathaniel. “That’s why we got the house in the first place—so everyone could be together.” His eyebrows drooped. “It’s a shame she isn’t here to enjoy it.”

“I’m so sorry, Nathaniel,” Augusta said. “I know how much you loved her. In fact, I still remember the night you got engaged.”

Nathaniel’s eyes brightened. “You remember that, huh?”

“Who could forget it? We were all at Arcadia Gardens, eating and dancing the night away, and then you pulled Evie to the center of the floor, got down on one knee, and proposed. The band stopped playing and everyone clapped. It was like a scene from a Hollywood movie—the most romantic thing I ever saw.”

He was practically beaming now. “That’s exactly how Evie used to describe it.”

“Isn’t that how you remember it?”

“To be honest, that night has always been blurry. I’d been thinking about asking Evie to marry me, but a public proposal wasn’t my style. If I hadn’t had so much to drink, I probably would have waited until we were alone.”

“You never seemed like a big drinker to me.”

“I’m not. I wasn’t. It was only that night. I must have been nervous.”

Augusta smiled. “I understand.” She pointed to her cup of frozen yogurt. “When I get nervous, I eat.”

“Evie used to polish off an entire bag of pretzels every time one of the kids was traveling,” Nathaniel said. He looked so forlorn that Augusta decided it was best to change the subject.

“So how do you keep yourself busy down here? Golf? Tennis? What else do you do?”

“A bit of everything,” Nathaniel said. “The beach is gorgeous, by the way. I go a couple of times a week. I have a group I meet on Tuesdays—open-water swimming for us old folks. You should come—you’re in great shape. I’m sure the others would love to meet you.”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I stick to swimming pools. I haven’t swum in the ocean for years. I don’t like the way the bottom keeps shifting, the way your feet get sucked into the wet sand. And don’t get me started on the waves—at my age, the last thing I need is to get tossed around.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “Suit yourself. As for me, I like the sand. I even like getting tossed around a bit.” He thumped one fist against his chest. “Helps me remember I’m still alive.”