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Ben nodded. “It’s a good practice. They’re good people to work with.” That was no less than the truth. The senior partner had been his mentor all through Ben’s residency. He respected the older doctor on a level otherwise awarded only to family members and close friends.

The other doctors were both good at what they did, dedicated to the field of family medicine. If he had issues with either of them—and he did—they were the kinds of issues that always happened within corporate folds.

He did too much pro bono work so that sometimes he didn’t bring in as much revenue for the practice as he should, but he didn’t think the other partners did enough. They attended fundraisers and brought more money and moneyed patients into the practice; he went sledding with neighborhood kids. They kept the practice in a good place politically at the hospitals where they had patients; he spoke his mind with a department head. Their relationship with the nurses and other staff in the office was caring but professional; his was—well, it probably wasn’t. They called each other names, bet on Celtics games and met for a beer more Thursday nights than not.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m glad to be back.”

He hoped by the time he left for the office the next day, that would be true.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“W
E
NEED
TO
have a professional women’s club in Fionnegan.” Joann took her seat. “There are a lot of us now, you know.”

“I’m not a professional. I couldn’t come,” Penny protested. “What’s the fun in that?”

“It’s okay,” Kate comforted. “I’m not one, either, unless professional klutz counts.” She brightened. “I could send half the registry from A Day at a Time.”

“Hmm...” Joann frowned into her diet cola. “I’d probably think better if this had real sugar in it.”

“Give you sugar and the next thing you know, you’ll want real cream in your coffee.” Marce shook her head at her. “Let’s make it a businesswomen’s club. How about that? Your catering counts, Penny, whether you have a sign and a park bench or not.”

“Like a gender-specific chamber of commerce? Are you sure that’s even legal?” Kate pushed Marce off the end of the bench. “It’s your turn to bowl.”

“Maybe we should just stick with being a bowling team.” Penny frowned at their scores. “Or maybe we should become a gin rummy team—this isn’t working all that well.”

Joann grinned and turned her attention to Kate. “Have you seen Ben since he went back to Boston? Not that it’s my business.”

Kate had to make herself answer. “No, I haven’t.”

They talked most nights, at least for a few minutes; however, the only weekend he’d come to Fionnegan since his return to Boston, she’d spent in Chicago with her sister. Sarah had been there on business and Kate had found a cheap flight and joined her. They’d stayed downtown and shopped on the Magnificent Mile—where Kate bought lip gloss for herself and bicycle gloves for Jason—and been tourists.

She had not expected to miss Ben as much as she did. That part, the whole heartbreak, life-as-I-knew-it-is-over part had been over years ago. This was new, but it wasn’t any less painful.

Kate followed Penny’s strike—her first one of the night—with an impressive seven-ten split. “I can get this,” she said to her booing team members, and promptly rolled the second ball straight down the middle without touching either pin. She bowed to the ensuing round of catcalling and sat beside Joann again. “What about you? Have you seen Colby?”

Joann bowled before she answered, hitting the pins—all ten of them—with a force that had a team of high-school bowlers a few lanes down throwing themselves on the floor as though they were mortally wounded. “I haven’t,” she said, “but he called today and asked me to.” She met Kate’s eyes. “I didn’t know what to say. I know we’re all grown-ups now and that you sent him my way to start with, but it still felt odd seeing someone you’d dated. You’re as much my little sister as Penny is—I feel like I’m going out with Dan Elsbury.”

Penny turned in her seat to join the conversation. “He can’t afford you. It would be okay with the kids—you buy really good presents—but Dan would go into heart failure if he knew how much you spent on shoes.”

Joann gave Penny the same kind of big-sister wave Sarah had treated Kate to several times the week before. “Dan wouldn’t say a word. I insure his ’57 Chevy for a song, so he’s my slave.”

Kate laughed. “If you want to see Colby again, that’s great. He’s nice. But I do think you should stay away from Dan even if he is your slave. I know Penny’s generous, but she has her limits.”

“You’re sure?” Joann’s expression was so serious Kate wondered how much she liked Colby Dehart. Wouldn’t it be something if one of Kate’s single-by-choice friends crossed over to the side of the committed relationship?

“Positive.”
But don’t ask me the same question about Ben. I’m pretty sure I’m back to being high-school jealous where he’s concerned.

It was, combined with her ninety-seven bowling score, a depressing thought. When she got home, Marce called her. Lucy had died.

* * *

K
ATE
SOUNDED
CONGESTED
and weepy over the phone. “I swear, it’s the season of grief. Marce’s friend Nick came to the bed-and-breakfast on Wednesday and brought his dog and Shingles the cat with him. I think Lucy decided it was okay to go because her family was taken care of now. She died the same night. Sally knew somehow. She wouldn’t leave me for a minute. She even stayed in my lap most of the day after. Believe me, working with a fifteen-pound cat helping you type doesn’t do a thing for your productivity.”

Ben thought of his father and of the sweet old dog that had walked with them all summer and felt like crying himself. “I’m so sorry. Does Jayson know?”

“He took it hard. He was mad at Nick and his dog. It took a while to make him understand it wasn’t their fault.”

Ben heard what she didn’t say: that Jayson still felt betrayed by Ben’s absence. It made him angry—affection for the boy didn’t make him responsible for him—but it also made him feel guilty. “Do you have a cold?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Well, of course I have a cold. It’s just past the peak of leaf season. When have I not had a cold then?” She stopped, and the silence grew between them until she said, “I’m sorry. The years kind of fell away there, didn’t they? You have no reason to remember that I always get a cold in late October.”

Regret wound its way into the sadness that already weighed heavily in his mind. He wished he’d remembered that. It was as though the closeness they’d recovered this summer was disappearing too quickly to catch it and hold on to it.

Ben carried his coffee into the living room and set it on the table beside the recliner that was the only chair in his living room he liked. He leaned back into its corduroy comfort, searching for a way to lighten things between them. “So, tell me, short woman, did you
really
bowl a ninety-seven like I read on McGuffey’s Tavern’s Facebook page?”

There was another silence on the other end, but it was more like a nonverbal giggle. Kate snorted laughter, then she sneezed, which, heaven help him, made it even funnier. Dignity oozed hoarsely from her voice when she asked, “What wicked person would have put that on McGuffey’s page?”

“I can’t imagine.” Though Dan had texted him the Facebook link with the message,
R u SURE u want 2 sponsor them?
followed by an emoticon leer. Not only were the scores on the website, so were numerous pictures of the McGuffey’s Tavern bowling team in their pink-and-aqua shirts. Joann’s and Marce’s shoes and bowling balls matched their shirts. Penny’s and Kate’s balls appeared to be the same ones they’d had in high school when they circulated a petition to make bowling a credit-earning class.

Even with several hundred signatures and a conspicuous number of students wearing their parents’ bowling shirts to school, the school board (and quite possibly the state of Vermont) hadn’t agreed. However, the girls had both gotten good grades in government class.

“Bowling’s fun, though, even if it never did become a required subject in school. I’m always so tired of it when the league season is over that I forget how much I liked it to start with.” Kate spoke quickly, as though she didn’t want silence to make a space between them again.

Ben didn’t think he was the only one who regretted how quickly their closeness appeared to be dissipating.

“Do you bowl at all anymore,” she asked, “other than the occasional Sunday with me when you want me to look bad?”

“Only with you.” He rode his mountain bike until snow started getting in the way and then he skied. That took care of his time off. The thought gave him more than a twinge of regret, though he didn’t know why. Skiing was right up there with breathing on his favorite-things list.

“Jayson’s decided to give up pool for bowling.”

Ben didn’t know if she’d meant the statement as an accusation, but he felt reproached nonetheless. And vaguely irritated. “I probably never should have started teaching him.” But he hadn’t known the time in Fionnegan was going to end as soon as it did. She knew that, didn’t she? “I wish—”

But then he stopped, because he was no more sure what he wished for than he’d been those early, bright months of summer. That spangled time when he’d thought his father might possibly get better and he’d seen Kate Rafael almost every single day.

“It’s all right.” She spoke coolly into yet another patch of stillness. “He’s stopped mentioning it. Probably better for the felt on the pool table, too. And he loves bowling.” She hesitated. “I’ll keep an eye on your mom, okay? I’d better go.” Pride stiffened her voice. “Fridays are busy at work.”

For Ben, too. Friday was a short day in the practice, with no appointments after noon and only one physician on call. He’d been handling the on-calls since he came back. They’d been quiet afternoons for the most part. Boring ones.

He missed Fionnegan. He missed his father and seeing the rest of his family often. And he missed Kate. He looked forward to the long weekend coming up.

The high school was putting on a “farewell to fall” ride to raise funds for the ski team. They’d attached his father’s name to the ride, so the whole family would be in attendance. He wondered why Kate hadn’t mentioned it, but the fact that she hadn’t made him reluctant to bring it up.

“Thanks.” The roughness of his voice surprised him, and he had to concentrate on mellowing it out. “For looking after Mom, I mean. And hey, Kate?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Watch those ninety-sevens. They’ll ruin your athletic reputation.”

She huffed laughter, and he laughed with her, grateful they were able to end the uncomfortable conversation on a note of the amity they’d spent the summer attaining.

* * *

“G
OOD
JOB
, J
AYSON
!”
Kate clapped as he rounded the corner, the wheels of New Navy scarcely wobbling as they crunched through early November’s fallen leaves.

“I get to go on the next ride, Debby says,” he boasted, coming to an awkward stop beside Kate. He took off his helmet and scrubbed a short-fingered hand through his thin brown hair.

The motion reminded her of Ben. As handsome as he was, he didn’t look good in a bike helmet and took it off as soon as he came to a stop. She had to concentrate on keeping her smile intact. Then what Jayson had said clicked in. “What ride is that? I thought they were over for the year.”

Snow had been known to make its appearance at early and inconvenient times, so the unpaved single-track trails around Fionnegan didn’t get much traffic after October. Organized rides ended even sooner. However, there was no denying the rides were a popular form of fundraiser—it wouldn’t be the first time a late one occurred.

“It’s for the ski team.” Penny, her purse over her shoulder, joined them in front of A Day at a Time, where she’d spent the afternoon helping Kate. “The principal said he didn’t think the community could face one more fish fry or pancake supper. They’re calling it the Tim McGuffey Memorial Ride because the tavern’s always supported the skiers. You mean Mary Kate didn’t hit you up to sponsor her or at least buy a T-shirt?”

Kate nodded. “She did ask me for a donation for something or other just recently, but I was busy and didn’t pay much attention. I told her she was a terrible child who was bleeding me dry.”

“How much did you give her?”

“Twenty bucks.” Kate helped Jayson refasten his helmet for his ride home. Debby should be awake by now. “How long a ride and when is it?”

“Ten miles a week from tomorrow. Lots of schoolkids and families. Dan’s riding first aid.” Penny hesitated. “Colby’s coming over to ride with Joann.”

Kate frowned. “That’s a long one, Jay. Don’t you think maybe you should start with a shorter one? Maybe in the spring, when the trees are just getting new leaves?”

Jayson’s chin jutted out so that she had to refasten the strap. “Colby said I could ride good enough,” he said stubbornly.

Kate narrowed her eyes. “Since when are you and Colby friends?” She was perfectly fine with Colby and Joann seeing each other; Colby having an influence over Jayson was something else again.

The boy shook his head in confusion and she was sorry she’d asked. “If Debby goes, I’m sure it’ll be okay.” She gave him a pat. “You’ll do great. I’ll sponsor you a dollar a mile. How about that?” She didn’t think he could ride that distance, but as long as
he
thought he could, she wasn’t going to pour any more rain on that particular parade.

“All the McGuffeys will be here, I’m sure.” Penny frowned. “Things okay with you and Ben?”

He hadn’t mentioned the ride when Kate talked to him; nor had he said anything about coming back to Fionnegan soon. It had been, as talks between friends go, a nonstarter. Once they’d finished laughing at her bowling scores, they’d spent the rest of the conversation irritating each other.

“Just to the corner and back, Jayson. I have to close up the office, then I’ll ride home with you.” Kate watched him push himself off, prepared to grab the back of the bike seat if he couldn’t get enough momentum to keep going. She waited until New Navy had stopped wobbling, then answered Penny. “No.” It hurt as much to say it now as it had all those years ago. “No, things aren’t okay.”