The Fall Fest was an annual tradition in Oyster Bay, held the first weekend of October, rain or shine. When the girls were young, their parents would dress them in matching wool coats, something their mother was keen to do at holidays until Bridget grew too old for smocked dresses and began to protest dressing like Abby, who was six years her junior, after all. Back then, though, they didn’t mind the coats, or the matching hats. They came to the festival with pumpkins they’d each picked out that morning and would decorate in the children’s pumpkin contest. It was without saying that Margo, artistic from a young age, frequently won, much to Bridget’s annoyance and Abby’s dismay.
“I’m happy to see that you’re entering the pumpkin contest, Emma,” Margo said as she crossed the street to the town green with her sisters and niece. It was a chilly day, the salty breeze was blowing her ponytail, and she was especially grateful for the coat Bridget had lent her. She knew she should break down and buy herself one, but she couldn’t justify the purchase, not when she had a perfectly nice wool coat at home. Buying one here would be admitting to herself that she didn’t plan on returning, and that was too much to think about right now. It was easier to not think about Charleston or her house or her husband at all. Easier to fall into the routine of life here in Oyster Bay. It was Fall Fest. A day for hot cider and hay rides and binging on pumpkin spice doughnuts.
“I’m entering a contest today too,” Abby announced with a grin.
“Oh, really?” Margo looked down to the brown paper bag her sister had been carrying all the way from Bridget’s apartment. “What’s in there?”
Abby seemed to hesitate, then stopped at a bench on the sidewalk. She reached into the bag and pulled out a beautiful apple pie, topped with a lattice crust that was sprinkled in sugar.
“You’re entering the pie baking contest?” Bridget looked as surprised as Margo felt.
Abby nodded. “I saw the flier and well, it seemed like fun.”
“Where’d you learn to do that?” Margo wondered if there was more that she’d missed in her absence than Mimi being sent to Serenity Hills.
Abby shrugged. “I like watching cooking shows and experimenting. Mimi taught me some of her recipes, too. I used to visit her and we’d cook together. Before she moved.”
Bridget frowned. “I didn’t know that.” She looked almost hurt.
Abby carefully set the pie back in the bag. “Anyway, this was one of the last recipes we worked on together, so I thought…why not?”
Why not. It was such an Abby thing to say. Abby who had switched majors in college four times in as many years, barely pulling together enough credits to finish with a degree in Philosophy, which she’d never put to any real use. Abby who flitted from boyfriend to boyfriend, never really investing or caring if things didn’t work out. Abby who was perfectly fine hopping from one job to the next, never committing to an actual career.
Margo suddenly envied her cavalier attitude, her ability to enjoy the moment and not worry about tomorrow. “Well, you have a good chance at winning if it tastes as good as it looks.”
Abby just shrugged again. “We’ll see!”
They had barely crossed the threshold of the green when Abby let out a whoop of delight and, rattling off an apology that was far from sincere, went hurrying across the lawn to where a band was setting up in the gazebo for the afternoon concert.
Margo watched with interest as Abby set down the bag, climbed the steps of the gazebo, and leaned in to embrace a man in a white T-shirt and faded jeans.
“He doesn’t look as grungy as I’d imagined him,” she observed.
Bridget rolled her eyes. “And by Thanksgiving, he’ll be history. You know how Abby is.”
Margo nodded. Sadly, she did. Ever since she was twelve, Abby had been boy crazy. She’d use her birthday money to subscribe to teen celebrity magazines and cover the walls in pinups of her current crush.
“She’s as fickle about her career as she is about the men she dates,” Bridget sighed. “You know that job at the doctor’s office won’t last until Thanksgiving either.”
Margo wished she could believe otherwise, but Bridget had a point. Abby would soon claim she was bored, or behave in a way that indicated just how bored she was, which would lead to termination—something that had happened at the dentist’s office, the insurance agency, and a handful of other places off the top of her head.
“Abby needed parents,” Margo said, feeling bad. “We were lucky we had them for as long as we did.”
“I tried to guide her,” Bridget said, taking the pumpkin out of Emma’s sagging arms. “But she was in college by then and didn’t want to listen to my advice. I think she resented me for not being Mom.”
Margo nodded. “She’ll never admit how much she misses them.”
“I miss them every day,” Bridget said, blinking quickly as she looked away.
Margo didn’t reply. The ache in her chest wouldn’t let her. It was just the problem with Oyster Bay—she may be able to escape her marital troubles here, but all the other painful parts of her life were front and center and unavoidable.
“How was the showing?” she asked instead, even though a part of her didn’t want to know.
“Oh, fine.” Bridget shrugged. “Not much to tell. He’ll get back to me.”
“Did he seem interested?”
Bridget gave a little smile. “For a moment, I thought he was interested in me.” She laughed, but not happily. “He’s engaged.”
Ah. As far as Margo knew, Bridget had never dated since her divorce from Ryan. She never complained about it, or made it seem like she even wanted a romantic life. Now Margo wondered if her sister was lonely, and the thought of it made her sad. If she had lived closer, she could have stopped by for dinner more often, taken Bridget out to get her nails done, let her have a little time to pamper herself.
Guilt weighed heavy as they walked toward the site of the pumpkin decorating contest, where dozens of children were already seated and hard at work. Bridget set Emma’s pumpkin on a picnic table and guarded it while Emma ran to the supply table to select her decorations. She returned with markers, glitter, glue, pompoms, and multiple sheets of stickers. “I think I’m going to win for sure,” she said, beaming as she slid onto the bench.
“She’s precious,” Margo said to Bridget, for the first time wondering if Ash’s betrayal would have been easier if she had a daughter to look after, or if that would have just made things worse.
“You and Ash thinking of having kids anytime soon?”
Margo swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t think so,” she said, realizing the horrible truth in her statement. She looked away, across the crowded green, to where Abby was still chatting with her man friend. “Abby really seems to like this guy. Don’t you think she’ll ever settle down?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Bridget led them to a bench under a maple tree that was just starting to turn, its leaves becoming a vibrant orange. She kept one eye on Emma, who was so engrossed in her project, she hadn’t even noticed her mother step away. “I’m not sure Abby has what it takes, honestly. Marriage is hard.”
“You’re telling me,” Margo replied before she could stop herself.
Bridget looked at her sidelong. “How is Ash? You haven’t mentioned him much.”
“Not much to tell,” Margo said, but damn it, her voice was shrill. There was a lot to tell, but that would require thinking about it, stirring up the hurt and the sadness, the humiliation and the anger.
Her professor husband was shagging his law student. Her life had become a cliché.
“Do you really miss not being married?” she dared to ask, thinking of what Bridget had said the other night at her apartment. She and Bridget rarely discussed the divorce, only loosely, in terms of her continued tense relationship with Ryan.
Bridget shook her head. “Not to Ryan. He was never the marrying kind, and I refused to see that. Sometimes it’s easier to see what you want to see, I suppose.”
Margo understand all too well. It was easier to think of her relationship with Ash as safe and easy and comfortable, not looking too closely at the truth of the situation. Was it really normal to eat dinners in silence each night, or in front of the evening news, before going off for the evening to separate quarters of the house? Where was the laughter, the spontaneity, the joy? Even when they went out, they kept things polite, peaceful. Low conflict. They never argued. She hadn’t even said anything when he gave his mother a gold locket for Christmas last year and bought Margo a new gardening spade; instead she’d told herself he knew how hard she’d been trying with those rose bushes…
She sighed. There had been red flags, lots of them now that she was willing to look for them.
“Don’t look now, but I think Eddie Boyd is trying to get your attention.” Bridget wiggled her eyebrows as Margo felt herself pale in panic.
He’d said he was coming, and okay, fine, she did wear her best sweater in case he actually did show up, but did she really want to talk to him again?
Yes, she decided, looking subtly over her shoulder to where he stood. She did want to talk to Eddie. She was confronting the truth in her relationships at long last, and she’d like some answers from him once and for all.
***
“Hey,” he said, giving her a slow smile as she walked over to him.
Margo took a measured breath, counted to three. “Hey.” There. That wasn’t so bad.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.” His eyes were clear in the afternoon sunlight, his green sweater bringing out the flecks of color around his pupils. She tried to look away and found it difficult. When Eddie stared at her like that, she’d always found it hard to stay angry at him for long.
“Are you kidding? Fall Fest was one of the highlights of my childhood, I’ll have you know.”
“And here I thought it was the Christmas Carnival,” he bantered.
“Oh.” He had a point, and the realization that he remembered this, and that Ash probably couldn’t tell the difference between the two events, even after ten years of marriage, made her uneasy.
“Well, I don’t like to pick favorites,” she replied. “I love everything about Oyster Bay.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
He really did know her too well. “No.”
There was more she could say—ask him what he was doing back, why he was here, why he had returned now and not then, when he said he would. Instead she looked around the festival, wondering if their conversation was about to be cut short. “You here alone?”
He nodded. “But I think my aunt and uncle are here somewhere.”
“I’m here with my sisters,” she informed him, realizing by the lack of surprise in his eyes how lame that sounded. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here with the woman from last night.”
His brow creased for a long moment until his eyes burst open in surprise. “Sylvia?”
Was that her name? Margo felt a sense of dread. Of course he was attached. Did she honestly think she was the only one of them who had moved on?
“Sylvia’s my partner,” he said, starting to laugh. “She has three unruly sons and a husband who left her for a skinnier version. I took her out last night because it was her birthday, and she was breaking her diet for your uncle’s chowder.”
“Oh,” Margo said, feeling far more pleased than she should. She should empathize with Sylvia, feel sorry for her even. “That was really nice of you to do that.”
Very adult of him, she thought, frowning a little.
“Come on,” he said, jutting his chin to the food stands which were lined up on the west side of the green. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Suddenly it all became too clear that Eddie was, in fact, single. And this fact was almost more dangerous than him being back in town. Almost more dangerous that the fact every time he looked at her, her heart sped up. She hesitated, wondering what she was agreeing to, even dared to think of Ash for a fleeting moment. But then she remembered Candy. And then she remembered Abby, and her motto. “Why not?” she said, with a smile.
They stopped at Hollow Tree Farm’s food truck and ordered two ciders, one hard, one fresh pressed.
Before Margo could say anything, Eddie said, “I don’t drink.”
Margo sipped her cider. Back when she knew Eddie, they were both too young to drink. Had something happened in the time since he’d left? It saddened her. All this time she’d oscillated between worry and anger. Was Eddie okay? And if he was, why hadn’t he ever contacted her again?
“You don’t need to explain,” she said.
“It’s okay,” he said easily. “Do you know why I was at Serenity Hills the other day?”
Margo’s cheeks flared when she thought of the way she’d run from him. She opened her mouth to explain, but it was no use. His eyes glinted with mischief now.
“I saw you run away from me,” he said, giving her a long look.
“Well, it was either that or shove my ninety-year-old grandmother into the broom closet,” she said, but she was laughing now. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised to see you there.”
“I was visiting my dad,” he said, and Margo did a poor job of hiding the shock in her expression. “I know. It’s…I don’t know what it is,” he finally said, burying his face in his plastic cup.
“I didn’t know you were in touch with him,” she said, and then realized how presumptuous that was. It had been more than a decade since she’d spoken to Eddie. A lot could change in that amount of time.
She glanced at him, taking in the man beside her, so different from that boy he’d once been, she realized. Yep, a lot could change.
“We got back in touch a long time ago,” he said, and then faded into silence again. Margo waited for him to say more, but he had a distant look in his eyes. “Then we lost touch again. I didn’t hear from him again until last year. That’s why I moved back to Oyster Bay.”
“I don’t follow,” Margo said. Last she knew, Eddie had been sent to Oyster Bay to live with his father’s brother and his wife because his dad was “in trouble.” Whatever the trouble was, Eddie had never let on and Margo hadn’t pushed. She’d heard rumors, of course. Oyster Bay was full of gossip. Some people said Eddie’s dad was in prison. Others said he was a gambler, that he’d run off to Vegas and was dead broke. Margo hadn’t cared what they said about Eddie’s father, and she still didn’t. She’d only cared about Eddie…and, she realized with a sinking feeling, she still did.
“My dad has sclerosis of the liver,” Eddie said frankly. He stopped walking, looking her square in the eye. “His brother’s the only family he’s got other than me, and my uncle took him in, set him up in Serenity Hills. Tracked me down and asked me to come back.”
“I’m sorry, Eddie.” She wanted to reach out, set a hand on his arm, hold his hand. Hug him. But that wasn’t her place anymore. Once, it had been, when the teasing at school got bad, and the hurt in his eyes was deep. She’d smile and lead him away, and they’d make their own good time, and leave all that other stuff behind them. When he wanted to open up, she listened, but she never pried. There were parts of his story she knew: how his mother had left him earlier than he could even remember her, that his father had a temper, and they always ran out of money, and that he’d been shipped to Oyster Bay against his will, but that really, his uncle and aunt and even Nick were pretty great. Deep down, Margo had always sensed that Eddie was a lot happier to be in Oyster Bay than he’d ever admit. Maybe even to himself.
“It’s difficult to accept that this is how it ends,” he said. “All this time, I guess a part of me hated him, but another part of me longed for something that wasn’t there, and…hoped that someday it could be found.”
Margo dropped onto a bench, and Eddie sat beside her. “But you were in touch with him before, you said.”
“After I left Oyster Bay,” Eddie said. “That’s when things took a turn for the worse.”
Margo looked at him sharply. “Worse? How?”
“I know the detention center was supposed to straighten me out, but…” Eddie shrugged. “I lasted two weeks before they called my uncle. He said he would spare my aunt by not telling her, said it would break her heart. Instead, my uncle called my dad. Ray came, picked me up, and that was that.” He gave her a wry look.
“What happened?” Margo asked.
“Oh, it was fine at first,” Eddie said. “We went home, I got a job bagging groceries to help pay the rent. But then the drinking started and the poker games, and one night he was feeling lucky, went all in.”
Margo didn’t like where this story was headed. “Let me guess.”
“Lost it all. Every dime he’d saved and I’d worked for. Man, he went on a bender that time. I didn’t see him for three days, and when I did…let’s just say he wasn’t happy to see me. Said I was bad luck, that I wasn’t earning my keep. I left that night.”
“Why didn’t you come back to Oyster Bay?” Why, why? She would have taken him in; they could have found a way.
“My uncle wouldn’t have me. My chances were up.”
And me? she wanted to ask. It was right there, on the tip of her tongue. But the sadness in his eyes stopped her.
“Life was hard for a while. I fell in with a bad crowd, started drinking… I guess you could say that I gave up on myself for a while.”
“I hadn’t given up on you,” Margo said quietly.
He held her gaze. “I wasn’t coming back to Oyster Bay, Margo. I wasn’t going anywhere.”
She understood, even if she wished it could have been different. “You could have called me. Maybe it would have helped.”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.”
“No,” she said eventually, “I suppose not.”
“I couldn’t bring you into that mess,” Eddie said. “I wanted to…but I couldn’t. Does that make sense?”
She could only nod. In a way it did. Of course it did.
“It all worked out in time. I stopped drinking, got my GED, eventually joined the force. Not to say I didn’t struggle for a while,” he added. He’d finished his cup and he stood to toss it in the trash can. “Well, now you know.”
Yes, she thought, feeling no better than she had yesterday, and maybe worse. Now she knew.
***
Eddie didn’t know why he was telling her all of this. To defend himself? Apologize? Maybe a little of both.
“I guess it’s funny in a way,” he mused. “You never know how life will end up.”
And he still didn’t, he thought, thinking of Mick’s invitation. It had been weighing on him ever since Friday, settling heavily on his shoulders, and only disappearing for fleeting moments before returning with full force. There was no one he could tell: his uncle and aunt would encourage him to stay, to be with his father. And Sylvia would probably hit the vending machines hard and then blame him for it later. He was her partner. How could he forsake her?
But then Mick was his partner, too. His friend. The first real friend he’d ever had, really.
Other than Margo.
“No, you never can tell how things will end,” Margo said, her voice a little sad. “You can only react to the moment, I suppose. And have faith.”
Something in the way she said that last sentence made him question if she had any left. “Well, everything turned out okay in the end,” he said, but from the emptiness in Margo’s eyes he wasn’t so sure about that.
“I wish I could say that was true,” Margo replied, looking down at her drink. “I caught my husband with another woman. Well, a girl really. Barely legal,” she mumbled, taking a long sip of her drink. “Her name is Candy. She wears pearls. And her hair bounces.”
He struggled not to show his surprise.
“What a bastard,” he finally said. Margo was sweet and smart and still so beautiful. What man would take that granted?
He knew he never did.
“Well, now you know why I’m back in Oyster Bay,” she said, sighing. “Guess you could say I’m sort of at a crossroads.”
“Are you thinking of staying?” There was hope in his voice that didn’t have any business being there, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted her to stay. Oyster Bay didn’t feel right without her. She’d been his friend, his best friend, and so much more than that. She’d been the bright spot in a dark time. He’d always love her for that.
“I don’t know,” she said, searching his face. “Coming here…nothing’s the same.”
“Well, you’re not the same,” he pointed out.
She considered this for a moment. “True. I’m bitter now. Hard.” She winked at him, her mouth twisting into a little smile, and he laughed.
“You’ve grown up. Had experiences that shaped you. You’ll get through this,” he said.
“I hope you’re right,” she said. She didn’t look convinced.
“Honey, I’m always right,” he joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
She blinked, but her smile shone in her eyes. “Oh yeah? Name one time.”
He hesitated, thinking back on the most recent time. “What I told you that last day, before I left for New Jersey. Do you remember what I said?”
Her smile slipped. She pulled on her ponytail, twirling it in her hands, avoiding eye contact. “Oh. I…”
But he wasn’t going to let this go. Not now, not when they were sitting side by side. When he didn’t know if they would ever sit like this again.
“I told you that we’d be together again.” He’d said other things, too. That he loved her. That he always would. “Seems to me by the way we’re sitting here talking that I was right about that.”
“Eddie.” Margo’s voice caught, and her eyes had welled with tears.
“It’s okay,” he said. “We don’t need to talk about that time anymore. We’re here now. Older and wiser.”
“Yes,” she said, lowering her eyes. “We’re here now.”
Who would have ever thought that? It wasn’t until years after he’d left Oyster Bay that he reached out to his aunt and uncle again, as part of his steps, finding forgiveness. By then Margo was married; his aunt had told him, regret in her voice. His heart had sunk then, even though he figured a girl like Margo would be swooped up and that he was lucky to have ever had her as his at all. And yet here he was. And here she was. So close that he could reach out, touch her cheek, brush away the tear that had started to fall. He inched forward, wanting to hold her, kiss her, maybe just wrap an arm around her. “Margo…”
She pulled back, stood quickly, alarm in her eyes. “I should go find Bridget and Abby. I promised I’d be there for the pie judging contest.”
“Margo,” Eddie started, but she was backing up.
“I should go,” she said, and he said nothing more, but watched from the bench as she became smaller and smaller in the distance, the way she had that terrible, awful day all those years ago.