Page 85 of Upstate

“Coffee would be awesome.”

Sam follows me through the dining room and into the kitchen. I start up the espresso machine while he looks around. “Oh, wow, the kitchen wasn’t like this before.”

Sam’s never been inside my house. “How would you know?”

“I looked up the real estate listing back when you called about your preservation status. I remember thinking the house was kind of a wreck, but this turned out great. Did you design it yourself?”

“I built it myself,” I shout over the squeal of steaming milk. “I mean, I ordered the cabinets and had the counter installed, but I did everything else.”

“That’s fucking impressive, Audrey,” Sam says, accepting the latte I hand him.

“Thanks. My dad taught me.”

“I know.” He licks foam from his lips. “I read your book.”

“Really?” I feel exposed, suddenly, in front of this man who knows my story, but flattered, too. “When did you read Dad’s Apprentice?”

“Last month, actually. I stopped in Saratoga Springs on my way back from visiting my parents and ended up browsing around Northshire Bookstore. Someone asked if they could help me find anything and the only book that came to mind was yours. They had a copy, so I bought it.” He puts his cup down, keeps his eyes on it instead of me. “It was really sad. You made me cry.”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” I say, secretly proud my words had their intended effect.

He raises his eyes, now, and meets mine. “It wasn’t the first time.”

My pride puddles into shame. “Listen, Sam, there’s something I should have told you a long time ago. I let you think I was single, but I’m married. Was married, I mean. My husband died of Covid right before I moved upstate.”

“Yeah, well, I figured that out.” He shrugs in a casual way that lets me know this isn’t casual for him at all. “I’m not big on social media, but I looked you up after I stopped hearing from you. I saw that picture of you at a fancy restaurant with this insanely cool guy. Turns out we have a friend in common, someone I knew from Cornell who works at your college. I messaged her and asked what’s your story. She told me about your husband. I’m sorry, too, Audrey. I never would have kissed you if I’d known.”

The heat of a blush burns my cheeks. “Don’t apologize, Sam. You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you. It was shitty of me to ghost you after the Homestead Festival, but I—well, I was going through some stuff. I didn’t trust myself not to do something stupid.”

The word hits him like a slap. “Ouch.”

I’m screwing this up. I try again. “I don’t mean you’d be a stupid mistake, Sam. I mean, it’d be stupid for me to do something I wasn’t ready for and ruin, like, our friendship.”

A smile tugs at the corners of Sam’s mouth. “So we’re friends?”

With a sigh of relief at having survived this embarrassing exchange, I say, “I hope so.”

“Then let’s be the kind of friends who tell each other the truth from now on, okay?”

I raise my hand in a Vulcan salute. “As long as I live and prosper.”

Sam can’t help but laugh. “Sweet.”

“Hey, are you hungry? Do you want breakfast?”

“I ate a granola bar on the way over,” Sam says, shaking his head. “I’m more curious about these letters you found.”

Ignoring my own empty stomach, I take him into the dining room and hand him the clipping of William McIntyre’s obituary. “That’s your grandfather, isn’t it?”

“Sure it is. My mom has this in a scrapbook.” Sam points to the line about a surviving grandson. “There’s me, Samuel Rensselaer. Where did you get this?”

“Remember when we walked the boundary, you noticed the property across Patience Creek—”

“Patience Creek?” Sam interrupts. “It wasn’t named that on the map. I’d have remembered.”

“Because it’s your mother’s name, I know. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The McIntyre land across the creek is where your grandfather grew up.”

“Seriously?” Sam lifts a suspicious eyebrow. “Are you messing with me, Audrey?”