Hope, Levy, Marc [good summer reads TXT] 📗

up a spectacular, sweeping view of Cape Cod.

Pia and her husband welcomed them with open arms, and Melly took an instant liking to the young woman, who was genuine and natural, with an easy smile.

Simon introduced them to Melly, willfully allowing a little ambiguity to hover over the nature of their relationship.

“Are you telling me you brought me here as a cover story?” Melly whispered as the mistress of the house led them upstairs.

Simon had no need to answer, as Pia showed them into a bedroom with a large double bed and ocean views.

“You’ll see, you’ll sleep well here.” She smiled. “Especially around about now, when the tide rises at night. There’s nothing more soothing than the sound of the waves. Get some rest, or go for a walk on the beach if you like. We’ll meet outside on the deck for a drink before dinner at six thirty, but we should eat inside. It gets chilly when night falls.”

When Pia left, Melly glanced back and forth between Simon and the bed.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he said. “And I don’t snore.”

“How many people are coming this weekend?”

“You, me, and our two hosts.”

“Simon, seriously. They’re your friends. Why don’t you just be honest with them?”

“Because Pia’s husband has a big mouth, and his parents are very good friends of my parents.”

“I see.” Melly nodded. “So what shall I wear tonight?”

“Your cook was kind enough to pack a few things for you. They’re in the trunk along with my stuff. Let’s go check out the beach, and we’ll grab the bags on our way back.”

The beach stretched out as far as the northern edge of the bay, and it was as golden as a crescent moon rising over the waves.

As soon as they arrived, Melly kicked off her shoes, rolled up her skirt, and headed for the sea.

Simon sat at the foot of a dune and watched her laugh as she chased a shrieking gull, growing giddy in the warmth of the late afternoon. As Melly caught up with it, the bird would let out a screech, pirouetting in the air and landing a few feet away from its starting point. It would be just within reach, right at Melly’s fingertips, before fluttering up and starting all over again.

Finally, she collapsed breathlessly alongside Simon, and they watched as the sun made its slow descent to the west.

“You know what, Simon?” Melly rested her head on his shoulder. “All the small things in life . . . They’re not so small after all.”

Back in the bedroom, Melly rummaged through her travel bag, pulling out a long, casual skirt, a cotton shirt, a pair of jeans, underwear, a pair of ballet flats, a nightshirt, and a toiletry bag. She made a mental note to thank Dolores. The cook hadn’t forgotten anything except the drugs. She wouldn’t have known, anyway. Harold and Betsy hadn’t told anyone that their daughter was being treated with drug therapy.

Pia’s cooking was delicious. Over dessert, she turned to Melly and bombarded her with questions: how she had met Simon, what her career was like, who her family was, what kind of childhood she had had. When Simon wasn’t fielding questions for her, he was changing the subject.

After dinner, Melly helped Pia clear the table. She was ferrying plates back to the kitchen when Pia gestured at her to follow. They slipped out the back door and walked over to a corner of the wooden decking that ran around the house.

“Do you smoke?”

“No.”

“I do.” Pia stood on her tiptoes and fished out a packet of cigarettes tucked behind a wall light. “Smoking kills you, especially when you’re doing it alone. So how long have you and Simon been dating?”

“A while,” Melly offered noncommittally.

The silence lasted until Pia took her last drag.

“The sofa in your room pulls out into a bed. Simon will be comfier there than on the floor.”

And with that, she winked, tossed her cigarette butt aside, and headed back inside.

Melly was the first to go to bed, and Simon joined her a few moments later. The sofa bed hadn’t been pulled out, and Melly patted the pillow beside her.

“You can sleep here, as long as you keep your clothes on.”

“For real? You don’t mind?”

“To be honest with you, I’d like to remember what it feels like to fall asleep next to another person.”

“Is your memory really that hazy?” Simon asked, stretching out next to her.

“It seems to be getting hazier lately.”

They turned off the light, and as they lay there in the darkness, Melly told Simon everything that had happened to her since the helicopter accident: the surgery to repair her, the grafts, the coma, her time at the Longview Center, what happened when she woke up.

Simon was fascinated by the idea of Neurolink. He remembered having read an article about it, but he had thought the memory-recovery process was still only at its experimental stage. Melly told him that quite the contrary: around a hundred or so patients had been “restored” before her, and the waiting list of people looking to save their memories was growing longer with each passing day.

Simon confided that he had heard one of his exes bragging that one of his friends had undergone the Neurolink procedure following a motorbike accident. He hadn’t really believed the story. He had thought his ex was just showing off for the other dinner guests.

“What was your ex like?” Melly yawned.

“Handsome and unfaithful.”

The following day dawned as bright and clear as the one before.

Melly stared at the things Simon had discarded on the chair, a strange expression on her face.

“You don’t like the pants?” Simon asked.

Melly didn’t reply. She could have sworn that just for a moment, she’d seen a witch hanging from a tree on Simon’s T-shirt, but in a flash it had gone. Like a ghost that had vanished.

After a hearty breakfast, Pia announced that they would regroup in the