Now, he had absolutely nothing to do, and all the time in the world to do it in.
Aidan looked around, feeling restless again. He should be back to work: making a list of his most trusted contacts, calling up his old mentors, putting feelers out for finance world positions again. Sure, he was toxic when it came to trading, but there were plenty of sideways moves he could make: consultancy, start-ups, Fortune 500 executive roles. He had his MBA, and a decade of experience, he could be landed somewhere by the end of the month, barely skipping a beat.
But something stopped him picking up the phone. It was the weekend, he told himself. Better leaving it until Monday.
He was just considering going for a run, when a flash of motion caught his eye through the trees; someone clambering over the gate.
Stella?
Aidan was already striding over when he realized, it wasn’t his new neighbor, but a gawky teenage boy. He exhaled, disappointed. He should have known the shortcut to the pond would be common knowledge; knowing his luck, he’d have half the high school trampling through here every weekend to party and do God knows what.
“Hey there!” he called, annoyed. The boy startled, lost his footing on the gate, and slipped to the ground.
“You OK?” Aidan asked, hurrying over. The kid bobbed up, looking nervous.
“I’m fine. Sorry, I know we shouldn’t cut through here.” he said, scrambling to pick up his backpack. It had fallen open, spilling a stack of well-worn books onto the ground.
“That’s OK,” Aidan said, relaxing. The kid couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen, blinking at him owl-like from behind a pair of black, plastic spectacles. Aidan leaned over, and helped him collect the books. ‘Lord of the Rings’, ‘Dune’… Aidan recognized the titles from back when he was younger, and would lose himself for hours in a thick novel. “Be careful,” he joked, handing them back to the kid. “You’ll put your back out, carrying these around.”
The kid smiled. He looked past Aidan.
“Is that your boat?” the kid asked, looking interested.
“My grandpa’s. Needs some work, don’t you think?”
“It’s a catboat,” the kid said, moving closer. “I saw a video about them, once. They’re called that because the fishermen had to chase cats off the deck.”
“Oh yeah?” Aidan asked. “I’ll have to look that up.”
“They used to build them here on the Cape. We went to the Maritime Museum on a school trip, when we were in fourth grade.” The kid circled the vessel, prodding at the dry rot. “You think you can make her seaworthy again?”
“Not me,” Aidan said immediately. “But maybe I’ll look into it, see if I can’t find someone who knows.”
“I bet you could find out how to do it yourself.” The kid said. “You can look up anything on YouTube.”
Aidan stifled a smile. “Maybe,” he agreed vaguely. “Anyway, I better go…” he gestured vaguely towards the house.
“Oh, sure. I’m sorry about trespassing,” the kid said, hitching up his book bag.
“Don’t worry about it.” Aidan reassured him. Something told him that this kid wasn’t the type for wild parties down at the pond. “Take the shortcut anytime.”
“Thanks!”
The kid scurried away, leaving Aidan feeling oddly nostalgic. He remembered the days when he would get interested in a dozen new things, and go down a rabbit hole of research at the library, on everything from black holes to Roman warriors. When had that stopped? He wondered, but the answer came immediately: when profits mattered more than anything else.
There was no time for distractions when he had his eye on the prize.
He went back inside, and got out his laptop. Sure enough, when he searched for ‘boat-building’, he found a thousand websites and links. He narrowed it down to Cape Cod, and started reading, on the lookout for someone local who could maybe bring the old vessel back to life.
After all, he had nothing but time.
5
Stella had a glass of cranberry spritz in one hand, a sugared cranberry cupcake in the other; sitting with her friends at a prime picnic table by the gazebo as the warm night breeze fluttered, and music and laughter echoed through the town square. But still, despite the festivities in full swing around her, she couldn’t quite relax.
“I should call Matty, and check that he’s turned the oven off,” she said, reaching for her purse.
Jenny gave her a look from across the table. “You mean since the last time you called?”
“All of twenty minutes ago.” Jenny’s fiancé, Fraser, agreed.
Stella exhaled. “OK, maybe I’m being a little overprotective,” she admitted. Matty was fine. More than fine, she’d left him happily set up with food and his gaming console, in the nerdy equivalent of seventh heaven. “But why can’t I shake the feeling like I’m forgetting something, or being wildly irresponsible leaving him alone for a few hours?” she asked.
“Because you’ve been a mom so long, you’ve forgotten how to be a person.” Jenny said, with a sympathetic smile. “Here, have another spritz. You’ll forget about it soon enough.”
“If that’s Franny’s famous punch, then soon I’ll forget my own name.” Stella joked. But she took another sip, and a long, deep breath, and slowly, the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease. Her friends were right: She deserved to unwind a little. It was a gorgeous balmy night, warm enough to wear her favorite red sundress, and the town square looked beautiful, lit up under string lights that twinkled in the dark. There were food stalls, and wine flowing, and a band set up by the gazebo, playing old Motown hits as tourists and locals alike enjoyed the scene.
Nights like these reminded Stella how lucky she was to call Sweetbriar Cove home, as Hank showed off his moves on the dancefloor, and Aunt June held court nearby, dishing the details of her latest breakup.
“Wait, she and Stanley couldn’t make it work?” Stella asked Fraser, surprised. “I thought for sure he’d be husband number five.”
“He tried, but June said, she wouldn’t be tied down.” Fraser grinned. “After Stanley just bought a beach house here to be closer to her.”
“And Aunt June pocketed the commission as his realtor!” Jenny added. “She’ll probably do it all over again when he sells.”
“Smart woman,” Stella quipped, and they all laughed. She looked around, eyeing the delicious looking food at the next table. “I think I’m going to take my chances in line for the hot dogs. Any takers?”
“We’re good, thanks. But I’ll steal you a slice of cranberry pie,” Fraser offered.
“Done!”
Stella made her way across the square, greeting old friends and neighbors as she went. She could see Poppy and Lila with their babies, and Summer off dancing with Grandpa Earl. Mackenzie was waving at her, pointing and mouthing something Stella couldn’t make out—
“Oof!”
She walked straight into somebody, almost falling flat on her ass, before the guy steadied her. “Sorry,” Stella blurted, recovering her balance.