Enchanting Lily

by Anjali Banerjee

  “How did you end up in business?”

  “I studied design. But my parents wanted me to be practical. They were immigrants, my mother from India, my dad from Ireland. They met here after they moved to America. They were both trying to make a go of their lives. They saw drawing and design as too whimsical. And then I met Josh and fell in love, and he was so creative—his creativity eclipsed mine.”

  “But not anymore.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “We never know how things are going to turn out.”

  “Like your wife leaving you?”

  “Yeah. She was a planner. She must’ve been planning her departure for months, but I was blind. I had no idea it was coming. Now you could say I’ve become cautious.”

  “I don’t blame you.” But according to Paige, he hadn’t been cautious—he’d gone a little crazy for a while.

  He led her to the oldest graves in the cemetery. “Captain Fairport is buried right here,” he said, pointing to an Eiffel Tower-shaped headstone.

  “Fairport was named after him?” In the biting wind, her nose was going numb. She tightened the string of her hood.

  “He was beheaded by a group of Tlingit warriors. They stormed his house and killed him in retaliation for the murder of twenty-seven members of their tribe.”

  “I knew we had a violent past, but it’s hard to imagine.” She shivered.

  “You’re cold.” He put an arm around her, drawing her close to him. He felt solid, durable. “Should we go back to the car?”

  “No, I’m okay. Really, I want to stay.” She didn’t care that the wind whipped her face, that her jeans were damp from the rain, her feet soaked and nearly numb inside her running shoes. She nearly forgot that she’d agreed to come here to look for evidence of Josh.

  “A U.S. warship had already killed several members of the Tlingit tribe,” Ben went on. “They were getting payback. Life seems pretty benign and calm these days compared to what went on back then.”

  She nodded, her teeth chattering. She was distracted by his nearness, by the warmth she could feel through their jackets. His body felt like a furnace.

  He led her to the next set of graves, a marble headstone engraved on two sides with the names of two different children, one who had died at age three, the other at age seven. “They hardly had a chance to live,” she said, touching the engraved names. Their short lives suddenly put Josh’s life into perspective. At least he’d had a chance to grow up, find his profession, make a mark on the world, and fall in love. At least she’d had a decade with him.

  “Times were tough,” Ben said. “People died young.”

  “But not always. Look, there’s a woman who died at age ninety-six. Muriel Racer. Is that her real name?”

  “And she’s buried right next to Swift,” Ben said. “Truth is stranger than fiction.”

  “I wish I had my camera.” She shivered again.

  Ben ran his hand up and down her arm, pulling her closer. “You’re numb. Sorry, this hasn’t been much of a date so far.”

  “This is the most unusual date, but in a good way.”

  He grinned. “Are you hungry? I want to take you to dinner. I was saving the best part for last.”

  “Dinner? Where?”

  “It’s a surprise. I’ll take you home first so you can put on some dry clothes, and then we’ll go.” He pulled her close, his arms around her. She could feel the strength of his heartbeat. But still, he didn’t kiss her. He took her hand and led her back to the truck.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Lily

  “One big step.” Ben reached out his hand from inside the boat. Lily held her breath and stepped off the dock, more like a leap into his arms. The small motorboat swayed dangerously. In the darkening evening, the rain spit down in a cool mist, but the ocean was, thankfully, calm. But Lily still shivered, her teeth chattering again.

  “Best way to see the Puget Sound is from the water,” Ben said, handing her an orange life jacket.

  “You’re right. This is quite a surprise.” She followed him into the tiny forward cabin, unsteady on her feet. “Bish didn’t mention a boat.”

  “She gets deathly seasick, and since Altona left, I don’t take the boat out much anymore.”

  The name, Altona, put a damper on the evening, but what did Lily expect? She was conscious of Josh looking over her shoulder at every juncture.

  “Sure you know what you’re doing? What if we capsize?” she said, only half-joking.

  Ben winked at her, his face suddenly handsome in the harbor light. “If we do, I’ll rescue you. Promise. I got my life-saving credentials. Seriously, though, I’ve been doing this all my life. First on my dad’s catamarans, sailboats, speedboats, you name it.”

  “I’m reassured.” She sat on a hard plastic bench while he turned on the motor and steered the boat out of the harbor. The noise seared her eardrums as they picked up speed, crashing and bumping through the waves. The wind whipped her face.

  Ben kept talking to her as he steered the boat away from shore, but she only pretended to understand his words, which were lost in the noise. She nodded now and then as he pointed toward the forested shoreline. Even though he wore a puffy parka, she could make out the contours of muscle, his broad shoulders.

  “…depth finder,” he said, pointing to a gauge on the control panel. “…shallow spots…have to know your way around.”

  The farther they traveled from shore, the freer she felt. It was good to be out on the water, the boat pounding across the waves, rattling her bones. She felt fully alive, and the roar of the engine drowned out her fears, her memories. Ben’s deep, rumbling voice, and his gloved hand pointing out various features of the shoreline, exhilarated her.

  She moved up close to him, and he looked at her and smiled in surprise. “You’re cute in that life jacket,” he said, putting an arm around her.

  Had he just called her cute?

  “I look like an orange gorilla,” she said.

  “You could never look like a gorilla. You’re way too pretty.” He kept his left arm on the steering wheel, his right arm around her.

  When was the last time she’d felt pretty? “So are you,” she said. “Not pretty, I mean. Handsome.” She had just complimented Ben. No turning back.

  He grinned and winked at her, surprising her again. She hadn’t thought him capable of winking. She was glad he couldn’t see her blushing in the semi-darkness.

  “Where are we going?” she said.

  “Like I said, it’s a surprise.” He gave her a look that suggested all kinds of things, and she smiled and shook her head. Men were unabashed about the pure pleasures—food and adventure and sex. When had she lost her own love for life?

  She hadn’t thought much about food for a long time. Now the cold night air, all the exercise she’d been getting, and being close to him, made her more than hungry. She was famished. She turned her face into the wind as he maneuvered the boat through the Sound. The lights of Fairport faded behind them.

  Soon he cut the engine, navigating the boat into a narrow harbor. Lily could see lights winking on a hill above the shoreline. “What’s this place? Is this still Shelter Island?”

  “This is West Harbor,” he said.

  “It’s neat to see it from this angle.”

  “Best restaurant on the island is here, but it takes a long time to get up there if you drive.”

  “Really?”

  “Okay, no, but it’s more romantic to take the boat.”

  “Yes, it is.” His efforts to be romantic were endearing as well. She hadn’t expected it.

  He maneuvered the boat against the dock, moored it there, and helped her out. Then he led her along the dock and up into town. West Harbor felt different from Fairport—new and modern. She looked into boutique and restaurant windows as they walked. In a few pubs, youngsters drank beer and laughed.

  “Just one more block,” he said, taking her arm. He led her into a crowded restaurant, West Harbor Sea
food, overlooking the water. The lights were dim, the atmosphere casual but homey. But in the entryway, they were jostled by the crowd that spilled out onto the sidewalk.

  “I had no idea about this place,” she said. “Where do all these people come from?”

  “Best-kept secret,” he said, close to her because of the crowd. “They probably sailed in from the city.” His breath smelled minty and fresh. Everything about him was fresh and inviting. Even his pale gray eyes.

  “But how will we ever get a table?” she said. “The hostess just told those people—”

  “We have a reservation,” he said, taking her hand. He led her through the crowd to the counter. “Ben Cole, reservation for two,” he said.

  The hostess smiled at him and grabbed two menus. “Right this way.”

  They followed her to a small table by the window. They were away from the crowd, and their table had a lit candle on the tablecloth. Warm air flowed gently from a heating vent in the ceiling. Outside, the sky had cleared, the moon throwing pools of mottled white light across the ocean.

  “Enjoy.” The waitress handed them the menus and walked away.

  “This is beautiful,” Lily said, sitting across from him. “Absolutely perfect.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I do.” She wondered how many other women he had brought here, how many times he’d come here with Altona. She imagined sitting here across from Josh. He would’ve appreciated the ambience, the view, the menu. He had been very sensual. She had to stop thinking of him. She grabbed her purse. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute.”

  Ben nodded, and she hurried to the restroom, an expansive lounge with brass fixtures and soft elevator music piped in through invisible speakers. She took a deep breath, gathering her wits.

  She expected to look disheveled in the mirror, but she looked…pretty. Had some of the gray hair disappeared? How could that have happened? Did her skin look younger? Or maybe it was the lighting in here.

  She ran the brush through her tangled locks, wiped away the smudged liner beneath her eyes, and touched up her lipstick. A woman came into the restroom—Paige.

  Paige stopped, and her eyes widened. “Lily, fancy meeting you here. Small world!”

  “Sure is!” Lily said. “How are you?” Had Paige seen her come in with Ben?

  Paige came up beside Lily, shoulder to shoulder, and looked in the mirror. “You on a date?”

  “Sort of—”

  “This is the best restaurant on the island. Best-kept secret. Now you know!”

  “So I hear.”

  “Who are you with? Ben Cole?”

  Lily looked at Paige in the mirror and blushed.

  “I was right!”

  “It’s not serious.” Lily fussed with her hair. She was beginning to think a small island could be too small.

  “Enjoy the not serious.” Paige winked in the mirror.

  “He was showing me around the island.”

  “Showing you, huh?” Paige lowered her voice to a whisper. “Let me know how he is. You know—”

  “I’m not going to sleep with him!”

  “Uh-huh.” Paige winked at her again.

  Lily elbowed her. “And who are you here with, my dear?”

  Paige’s face turned a mild shade of pink. “A guy I met. Not a big deal.”

  “Spill!”

  “At John’s wedding. That dress, Lily—”

  “You met a guy at your ex-husband’s wedding?”

  Paige waved her hand. “It’s all so new. Very casual right now.”

  “Keep me posted,” Lily said.

  “I will!” Paige went into the stall, and Lily hurried out of the restroom and back to her table and fumbled with the menu.

  “This is going to sound strange, but I don’t know how to do this, how to act on a dinner date,” she said. “I haven’t been with another man in a while—”

  “Neither have I. With another woman, I mean.”

  She laughed, not believing him. “I don’t even know what to order.”

  “Whatever you feel like having.”

  She sipped her water. “A luxury. It’s been so long since I enjoyed food.”

  “Close your eyes and choose something.”

  “Really?”

  “Why not?”

  She closed her eyes and pointed, but she had to try again, as her first option was prawn and garlic butter pasta, and she was vegetarian. Next was the garden burger. “That’s it,” she said.

  “Pretty tame, but okay.” He chose the wild salmon.

  She kept an eye out for Paige but didn’t see her. She was probably on the other side of the restaurant, out of view.

  As they ate their meals and sipped wine, they talked about their histories, their hobbies, the island. Ben had grown up here, his father an attorney who worked in the city and liked to sail in his free time, his mother a teacher. He had two older brothers, one an air force pilot, the other a businessman in Montana.

  Ben told her stories from his life, from the clinic.

  “Once a pet psychic called one of my clients to tell her that her cat wanted her to leave, that she shouldn’t have the cat. What was I supposed to say?”

  “You didn’t let her get rid of the cat, did you?”

  “I told her the psychic was wrong. She could not, under any circumstances, abandon her cat when so many millions of cats are homeless.”

  “That’s what I like about you. You stand up for what you believe in.”

  “I also have to understand my clients and not judge them.”

  “You judged me when I first brought the cat in there.”

  “Sorry if I came across as harsh.”

  “I know you’re a softy.”

  “I am, huh? Here’s to softies.” He grinned, and they raised their glasses in a toast.

  After dinner, they walked on a stretch of quiet beach where the waves lapped the shoreline in a rhythmic lullaby. Lily felt warm and comfortable walking with his arm around her. In a protected cove, he pulled her smoothly into his arms and kissed her. His lips were warm, firm, and confident. She felt her body coming alive again, unfettered.

  “My place?” he said, his voice husky. “Bish is away for the night.”

  “Yes,” she whispered back without a second thought. She’d expected to be careful, to keep her boundaries intact, but at his house, she found herself walking inside with him, letting him undress her and carry her into a land of enchantment. He paid attention to parts of her body, to nerve endings that she’d forgotten even existed, and for a while, she also forgot about Josh.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Kitty

  Lily returns late, when the moon is high, and she smells of the sea, of Dr. Cole, of bliss and sleepiness. She talks to me while she brushes her teeth and wipes the paint off her face.

  “I could have stayed over there but it didn’t feel right. I mean, it did feel right, but I couldn’t.”

  Why can’t she make up her mind?

  She blinks at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “But was that me? Or someone else?”

  Is this really a question?

  “I’m still alive. Oh, kitty. I know this sounds crazy—but for the first time since Josh died, I feel like I might survive.”

  To me, everything a human says can sound borderline crazy. “I don’t think I’ve truly believed that I could ever really live again. I mean, feel things like a touch, the taste of food. But I can.”

  Of course she can. She’s putting on a nightgown, climbing into bed, and pulling me close. In a moment, she is asleep, but the next day, she is different, changed again in a small way. Perhaps she is closer to the woman she once was. Her heartbeat has shifted—a subtle alteration.

  She’s happy for the next few days, occasionally going out to see Ben, preening beforehand, throwing clothes around before choosing each outfit.

  Bish comes in, too, to talk about boys and school and new shoes and other boring subjects, but she’s always good t
o me, bringing me treats.

  But Lily’s perfume, I can do without. That dusty little bottle that sat on her dressing table for so long? She wiped it off and spritzes her neck with that horrendous, sharp scent. Why doesn’t she rely on pheromones? She probably can’t even smell them.

  When Paige returns to the shop, Lily alters another dress for her, this one a deep red with scratchable lace.

  The thin woman with the thin little son comes back in, too, and he reads to me again from a giant picture book. This time, I don’t fall asleep. The story is about a naughty cat that runs away from home to join a gang, but then the cat misses his human, calls home from a telephone booth, and meows at the top of his lungs. His human races over in the car to pick him up, and he goes home to live happily ever after. A good story, except what is a telephone booth?

  Lily’s shop attracts more interesting customers, like a weird guy who unloads pockets full of sunglasses, all of which he removed from corpses at an Arizona funeral home. And a frail woman brings in a zippered green dress. She insists it’s over a hundred years old, but Lily explains that plastic zippers weren’t used on clothing until the sixties. The woman stalks out in a huff.

  The people in the shop keep me entertained, and I entertain them in return, but often I sit in the windowsill, my thoughts drifting to the life I had outside. Occasionally, I wish for a little air, but the feeling quickly passes.

  Construction continues on the shop across the street, and one afternoon, the tall woman, who sometimes works on the window displays, comes striding up the path and right into Lily’s boutique.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Lily

  “I’ve wanted to stop in here for a long time,” Florence said, unbuttoning her Burberry coat. Her voice came out toffee-smooth and deep, and she looked immaculate. The blustery walk across the street had not displaced a single hair on her well-coiffed head. But close up, she looked older than she had appeared from a distance—her face lined, the skin fragile, her eyes tired.