Author: Kristan Higgins

“Sentimental fools, both you girls,” he said, winking. They moved on to my parents.

“I’m very sorry, Callie,” came a cool voice. Muriel.

“Oh, hi, Muriel,” I said. “I didn’t know you were back from California.”

“I got back yesterday,” she said, scanning my outfit. I’d worn a sunshiny yellow dress for Noah. Red peep-toe pumps that were killing my feet but an homage to his life force. Such are the musings of a shoe fetishist.

“Well, thank you for coming.” I looked around for the rest of the Green Mountain gang, all of whom had called me since Noah’s death.

“They’re coming later,” Muriel said, answering my unspoken question. “I, uh, had an errand and figured I’d stop by now.” She tipped her head. “Well. Sorry again.”

It was clear she was itchy, and I couldn’t blame her, here in the lair of my family and friends. “Thanks for coming, Muriel. That was very nice of you.”

“You’re welcome. I…I’ll see you around,” she said.

“You bet,” I said. I wondered if Mark had told her I was quitting, but then Dr. Kumar gave me a big hug, and thoughts of Muriel slipped away.

“My dear girl, I am so very sorry for the loss of your grandfather,” he said, his lovely brown eyes moist. “I know you were very close.”

“Thanks, Dr. Kumar.” I smiled wetly at my old friend. “How was Branson?”

“Oh, Callie, it was lovely! We had a very wonderful time indeed. Next, we are hoping to go to Dollywood. But tell me, my dear, how do you like Dr. McFarland?” Dr Kumar smiled sweetly.

“I like him very much, Dr. Kumar.”

“Yes, I had it in my mind that you would. I’m glad.” With that, Dr. Kumar winked, hugged me again and moved on.

When the time came, Louis herded everyone out so we could head for the cemetery. “Can I have a second alone, Dad?” I asked.

“Of course, Poodle,” he said. “We’ll just be outside.” Louis thoughtfully closed the door behind my dad, leaving me alone in the Serenity Room.

The quiet fell heavily. I went up to the casket and looked at my grandfather’s face. “I guess this is it, Noah,” I whispered. For all his curmudgeonly ways, he’d always been a rock in the river of my life, and it hurt to think I’d never talk to him again.

Then I opened my purse and fished out the little tokens I wanted him to have. A curl of cedar shaving from the floor of his shop. A tuft of Bowie’s fur. A chocolate chip cookie.

And one more thing. A card from me, one of the weekly drawings I’d sent him after Gran died. This one was typical child’s artwork…a heart and tulips and a rainbow of thin, wobbling Crayola lines. Along the bottom, written as neatly as I could, were the words I love you Grampy! xoxoxoxox Calliope.

I’d found it yesterday at the bottom of his sock drawer. Each one of those sixteen cards, tied with a faded ribbon. He’d kept them for twenty-three and a half years, and he saw them every day. That knowledge made my heart feel thin and fragile, as if the slightest nudge would break it.

A few tears slipped down my cheeks. One plopped onto Noah’s flannel shirt, and I thought he might like that, because despite all that growling and cussing, Noah had been quite the softy.

“Thank you, Noah,” I whispered, touching his scratchy white beard for the last time. “Thank you for letting me be useful. Thank you for everything.”

THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY was the River Rat Regatta, a raucous affair that involved lots of locally brewed beer, hot dogs and an occasional race down the Connecticut. Not your typical regatta, mind you, in which people cared about the results…nah. This was more of a good-spirited romp. Some of the events included Ugliest Boat, Best Use of Cardboard and How Long Can You Last, a breath-holding competition usually won by Jim, owner of the Whoop & Holler, who’d been a Navy SEAL in his youth.

The late October sun was bright and strong, though more than likely, this was our last gorgeous weekend. The foliage was mostly gone, a few brave ash trees clinging to their yellow leaves. It had been a drier-than-usual September, so the river was slow and placid, winding its way between New Hamster and Vermont in graceful curves.

This year, the River Rats had asked me to present the Most Beautiful Boat award, which they’d just this week renamed the Noah Grey Award of Aesthetic Excellence. In years past, they’d always asked Noah to present it. He’d always declined, though he usually showed up for a peek. I was touched that they’d asked me.

I waved and smiled to the many people I knew. Soon I’d meet up with Annie, but for now I was solo, as Ian was at work. At the thought of my honey, my heart squeezed. I was in love, and for the first time, it was the kind of love that made me feel like a better person. Mark may have been all I’d thought I ever wanted, but Ian…Ian was what I needed.

“Hey, Callie,” my brother said, appearing at my side. He was wearing one of Noah’s shirts, and he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. The resemblance to our grandfather was a bit surprising, especially as he knelt to pet Bowie. “Where’s Ian?” he asked.

“He’s coming a little later. Saturday hours,” I answered.

“You guys serious?” Fred asked. Bowie sang in near-orgasmic pleasure as Fred found an itchy spot.

I blushed. “Sort of. Yes.”

“He seems cool,” my brother said, rising and brushing off Bowie’s fur. “Callie…I was thinking.”

“What? Are you okay?”

“Be serious.” He folded his arms over his chest and looked over my shoulder. “Noah left the rights to all his boat plans to us three, did you know that?” I nodded. “I was thinking I might try boat-building,” he said. “Continuing the tradition.”

My mouth fell open. “What about college?”

“I’ve changed majors six times in three years, Callie. I’m guessing that says something.”

“Weren’t you thinking of becoming a lawyer?”

“Yeah. But only because I’m good at bullshitting,” he said. “But…well, I’ve just been thinking about it, and the truth is, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do. Helping Noah out in the shop…that was always the time I felt best. Less like someone going over jackass hill, more like I was doing something…meaningful. Whatever.” Freddie rolled his eyes, embarrassed, but I could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“I think you’d be great,” I said.

“Could I make a living at it, do you think?” he asked.

“Well, Noah did just fine. You might have to cut your prices at first, do some marketing…hey, I could help you! Noah never did let me advertise, but this would be so nice. Noah’s Arks would be a family tradition. Multigenerational. We could do a Web site, a photo gallery…”

“I won’t do as good a job as Noah, though,” Freddie said, looking for a minute like the little boy I had so loved.

“Maybe not at first. But you’ll do great. I know it.” Bowie, in complete agreement, licked Freddie’s boot as encouragement.

Fred gave me a quick hug. “Thanks, Calorie. I hope Mom won’t freak when I tell her.”

“She’s too busy rediscovering Dad,” I said.

“Which is disgusting,” Hester said, coming up with the girls.

“Yeah, right. Like you’re any better,” Bronte said. “Callie, guess who’s coming to dinner? Louis. He wants to, like, ‘get to know us.’” She made quote marks with her fingers. “Freak.” Hester rolled her eyes and gave her daughter a fond nudge.

“Louis made me a death mask,” Josephine said, letting Bowie lick her chin. “It’s in my room. I’m wearing it for Halloween. I named it Mooey.”

“That’s a great name,” I said. “What do you think of Louis, Josephine?”

“He’s nice,” she announced, then, apparently finished with that subject, said, “Grammy’s taking me shopping for my flower girl dress. I can pick out whatever I want.”

“Leopard skin, I’d say,” Freddie recommended.

“Buy me popcorn, Uncle Fred,” she commanded.

“Yes, my liege,” he said, taking her by the hand. “See you guys later. Bronte, you coming?”

“Sure. You’re my only cool relative,” she said.

“I resent that,” I called after her.

“Then stop singing the Black-Eyed Peas in public,” she retorted over her shoulder.

“Love you!” Hester called. Bronte didn’t answer, but she held up her hand, her pinkie, forefinger and thumb sticking out…I love you in sign language.

“Aw!” I said. Hester smiled. “So,” I continued. “Louis is…” shudder “…good to you?”

She shrugged. “The sex is amazing. We did it in a casket the other night—”

“Oh, my dear God in heaven, please strike me down right now!” I blurted, causing Bowie to bark in sympathy. “Hester! Come on! I’m a normal person. I’m disgusted with that kind of information.”

“What? You and Ian haven’t done it anywhere…unexpected?”

“Well.” I paused, feeling my cheeks warm. “He has this dock, you know? And we went out there the other night to look at the stars, and we had blankets, and things got…romantic.”

“Yawn,” said Hester.

“It wasn’t yawn, okay? He made me happy. Twice. It was…” Special. Beautiful. Meaningful! Betty Boop and I sighed happily, dopey grins across both our faces. I’d been having quite a few dopey grins these days. I paused, looking up at the achingly blue sky. Thought of my honey’s eyes. Bowie nudged my hand, reminding me just who my true love really was, and I scratched his ear obediently.

“Well, whatever. Don’t rule out the caskets. When Mom’s out, of course. Oh, look. Speaking of Mom, there they are now.” Hester shook her head. “Look at them. Who the f**k would’ve guessed?”

Our parents were wandering along the riverbank, holding hands. “Are you glad they’re back together, Hes?” I asked.

She sighed. “Not sure if glad is the right word. But what the hell, right? Their lives to f**k up.”

“I guess we know who’ll be making the toast at the wedding,” I said. “That was beautiful.”

She smiled at me again. “I’m starving. Want a chili dog or something?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I said. “See you later.”

No sooner had she left than someone called my name. Aw! Damien and Dave were here, also holding hands. They waved in unison, looking like an ad for Wholesome Alternative Lifestyle. There were Pete and Leila, ever absorbed with each other, two and yet one, like conjoined twins, which wasn’t the most romantic image, but it did seem to work for them. Apparently, the whole Green Mountain Media gang had come together and was heading toward me. We were—oops—they were one of the sponsors of the regatta, and we’d always had fun in the past. The good old days. A pang of nostalgia bounced around my heart. Not for Mark the man…but a little for Mark the boss.

“Hi, guys!” I said, waving.

Just coming past the little ticket booth was Fleur, smoking a cigarette, possibly the last person in our fair state to do so and earning quite a few glares and fake coughs. Karen snatched the cigarette from Fleur’s fingers and ground it out, and I couldn’t help laughing.

And here was Mark. His face brightened at the sight of me. I hadn’t seen him since my grandfather’s funeral, but I’d have to go in soon. Pack up my stuff and get my vacation pay and all that. “Hey, Callie,” he said. “How are you?” He knelt down to pet Bowie, who licked his hand appreciatively.