ʺHow long have you been playing?ʺ Ivy asked. JʹI canʹt even remember the first time I stood on a pair of skates and held a stick. I think I was six months old Kelsey laughed. ʺ
ʺA child prodigy. He could walk at six months!ʺ Bryan grinned at her. ʺNo, but I could skate.ʺ ʺYour dad was into hockey?ʺ Ivy guessed. ʺMy mom. She was from a hockey family — all brothers. I work for my uncle, who owns the rink in Harwich. Every year I come to the Cape to help him with summer hockey camps.
And I work out, keeping in shape for the season.ʺ
ʺSix a.m., heʹs at the freakinʹ rink at six a.m. every morning,ʺ Max told them, ʺeven if he has to drive there from a party.ʺ
ʺMax exaggerates,ʺ Bryan said, turning back to Ivy, flashing a bad‐boy smile, ʺI always leave parties by four thirty, so I can get in an hour of sleep before I hit the ice.ʺ
Ivy simply raised an eyebrow and Bryan laughed good‐naturedly. ʺSo how about coming around for some lessons? Private lessons,ʺ he added, raising an eyebrow back at her. ʺIʹm a good teacher.ʺ Uh‐oh, Ivy thought.
ʺWeʹre out of salsa,ʺ Kelsey said. ʺYour turn to fetch. Ivy.ʺ
ʺGlad to,ʺ she replied, vacating her place on the swing, figuring Kelsey would be sitting there when she returned. Little green buttons everywhere.
ON THE FIRST DAY OF WORK AUNT CINDY HAD MADE it clear that, at an inn, where your job was to be cheerfully helpful to guests, arguing or turning a cold shoulder to another employee was prohibited. ʺGet over it or fake it,” she had said.
Tuesday morning, Ivy and Will were assigned to the breakfast room; they faked it. But when a toddler threw his jelly toast on the floor, and the two of them bent over at the same time and knocked heads, Ivy began to giggle.
ʺIʹve got it,ʺ Will told her, reaching for the goopy toast. Before Ivy could straighten up, the toddler poured milk over the side of his booster chair. Ivy felt a splash on her head, followed by liquid dribbling down her back. Will stared at her sopping hair and Ivy laughed at his expression. Grabbing a table linen, he started blotting her head, which made them both laugh.
By the time the tables were cleared and the dishes in the dishwasher, most of yesterdayʹs tension had disappeared.
ʺWe should leave here about two forty‐five,” Will told Ivy as they left the inn together. ʺAfter we get the bonfire permit, we can check out Race Point, then find a place for dinner in Provincetown.ʺ
ʺSounds good,ʺ Ivy replied. At the cottage, she picked up her music and headed to church. She was determined to make her practices regular and focused as it had been in Connecticut.
But as Ivy warmed up at the keyboard, her mind continually played back moments from yesterday — Guy standing behind her as she played the sonata, Guy lowering his head close to hers as they stood at the edge of the sea.
At last she got back her concentration and worked hard for more than an hour.
When she finished, she played songs she knew by heart—ʺTo Where You Are,ʺ then ʺMoonlight Sonata.ʺ Several measures into Beethoven, she stopped. She was thinking about Guy, about the way he had wandered about the church while she played, and how he had known the name of the piece. She was thinking about Guy when playing Tristanʹs song!
She dropped her hands in her lap. ʺWhy did you stop?ʺ Ivyʹs head jerked up. ʺI didnʹt hear you come in.ʺ
ʺI know.ʺ Guy was sitting on the end of a pew, halfway down the aisle of the small church. ʺAbout ten minutes ago you were playing like a crazy woman, like you were performing at Lincoln Center.ʺ
Lincoln Center? He knew what the concert hall was — another clue about his life, slight as it might be. “How was work?ʺ she asked. ʺYou didnʹt tell me why you stopped,ʺ he replied.
Ivy turned all the way around on the piano bench. ʺI donʹt tell you everything.ʺ
He smiled and let her off the hook. ʺWork was terrific. It felt good to be doing something physical and thinking about nothing but what I was doing. The guy, Kip McFarland, is in his twenties and has a small landscaping business. The payʹs low, but itʹs a start, and thereʹs a fringe benefit.ʺ
ʺWhich is?ʺ
ʺI get to sleep with the lawnmowers in an old barn. It has one window that isnʹt covered, a toilet, and an outside shower. It also has a pile of useless stuff Iʹm supposed to clean out. Want to come see it?ʺ
ʺA pile of useless stuff? How could I resist?ʺ a few minutes later, with Guy supplying directions, Ivy drove to Willow Pond, which was off Route 6A, close to the bay side of the cape.
A crushed stone drive led them through woods to an old clapboard house with gables and a wraparound porch. With a lot of hard work — and gallons of paintthe house, its weeping trees, and the round pond reflecting them would look like a scene on one of Aunt Cindyʹs jigsaw puzzles.
ʺKip and his wife bought the house last fall and are restoring it,ʺ Guy said.
ʺThey want to run a B and B some day, but they need money, so he does carpentry and landscaping, while she teaches, and in the summer helps him with the business.ʺ
Guy led Ivy past the right side of the house to the barn. The gray wood structure leaned noticeably toward the surrounding woods, like a building seeking shade. ʺHome sweet home,ʺ he said. ʺIf you tilt your head, it looks straight.ʺ Ivy grinned. ʺI canʹt wait to see inside.ʺ
Moving from the bright June day into the buildingʹs darkness. Ivy couldnʹt see anything at first, but she could smell. ʺI know,” Guy said, hearing her sniff. ʺYou get used to it.ʺ
ʺMulch. And fertilizer. Some.. very rich fertilizer.ʺ
As her eyes grew accustomed to the dim lighting she saw the mountain of stuff that needed to be cleared out — furniture, books, lamps, lobster pots, and fishing gear that looked old enough to have been used by the pilgrims.
ʺIs there a light in here?” He pointed. ʺOver the rider mower. Everything on that side is equipment for the landscaping business.ʺ He picked up an old lantern. ʺKipʹs wife is lending me this.ʺ When he lit it, the lanternʹs heavy, ringed glass glowed warmly. ʺOh, I like it!ʺ
ʺI thought you might. Hey, here comes my new roommate, Fleabag.ʺ
A skinny black‐and‐white cat had slipped through the open door and was sauntering toward them. ʺYouʹre kidding, right?ʺ
ʺAbout the fleas or us being roomies?ʺ
ʺBoth.ʺ
Guy set down the lantern. ʺWell, I was here for twenty minutes when Kip was showing me the place, and Flea‐bag scratched himself for about ten of those minutes, then flopped down on my backpack.ʺ
ʺIʹll get him some flea medicine.ʺ
ʺYouʹll be more successful getting it for me. Kip said it took forever to trap him and get him to a vet. Heʹs too feral to adopt, but he enjoys showing up now and then and hanging out. You can see why weʹre meant for each other,ʺ Guy added dryly.
ʺYes.ʺ Ivy surveyed the mess around them. ʺSo where exactly are you going to sleep? You could try that rafter, if you donʹt mind hanging upside down by your feet.ʺ
ʺI donʹt mind, but Iʹm guessing itʹs already taken by the bats. Thanks to you, however, I have my bedroll. Iʹll just have to clear a space.ʺ ʺLetʹs get started,ʺ she said. ʺNow?ʺ
ʹʹWith two of us, it will be easier to move the big things,ʺ Ivy told him. She eyed the cat. ʺAnd I donʹt think your roomy is going to lift a paw.ʺ ʺHe will when we disturb a nest of mice.ʺ
ʺTill then,” Ivy replied, picking up a chair with a missing leg and heading toward the door. She carried it out to the portable Dumpster that she had seen between the house and barn.
Guy followed with a bent floor lamp and old radio. ʺIf we can get the two sofas out of there,ʺ he said, ʺweʹll have some elbow room to work.ʺ
A short sofa with exposed springs was fairly easy to move, but the other one, a sleeper that kept unfolding, was twice as heavy. Ivy and Guy tugged and pulled and dragged.
ʺHow are you doing?ʺ Guy asked when they were almost to the door. Sweat dripped in her eyes and made tiny rivulets between her ears and cheeks. ʺOkay.
Hey! Look how clean your floor is where weʹve scraped it.ʺ
ʺThatʹs where my bedroll will go,ʺ he said. Why donʹt we leave this here for now? Iʹll ask Kip about using his trailer. If we drag the sofa across the lawn, weʹre going to take the grass with us, roots and all.ʺ ʺAgreed.ʺ