It was such a simple question that Ethan had no defense prepared for it. Most people spoke of Claire as though remembering her might hurt him and avoiding her name might protect him. Victoria seemed to understand that grief was not the same as a request for silence. He told her how Claire could identify a thunderstorm from the way the cows shifted in a field, how she painted the farmhouse kitchen yellow on a winter afternoon because everyone needed one bright room, and how she had once convinced him to enter a pie contest despite the fact that his baking skills were almost criminal.
By the time they finished the pie, Ethan realized he had spoken about his wife for twenty minutes without feeling that the conversation had trapped him in the past. Victoria listened as though the memories mattered because they were his. When they stepped outside, the rain had stopped, leaving the street bright and wet.
"This was nice," she said.
"It was."
"Can we do it again?"
He looked across the square at the hardware store, the feed supply truck, and the traffic moving toward the county road. There were perfectly sensible reasons to say no. She lived in a different world, had more demands on her time than most people could count, and might decide after one difficult farm winter that Cedar Ridge was a charming place best appreciated from a distance.
"I think we can," he said. "As long as we don't mistake it for a merger."
"No hostile takeovers," she agreed.
He laughed, and she laughed too. Neither of them tried to touch the other. Somehow, leaving that space unclaimed made the moment feel more honest.
A week later, Victoria attended Lily's school harvest concert. She hadn't been invited by Ethan at first. Lily had made an invitation with colored pencils, drawn a large red apple on the front, and instructed her father to deliver it because her teacher said special guests were allowed. Ethan called to explain that attendance wasn't required, but Victoria said her calendar was unusually free that evening. Mara, on the other end of a silent office message thread, rearranged two meetings and resisted the urge to comment.
The auditorium was crowded with folding chairs and parents clutching phones. Victoria sat beside June Ellis and behind Ethan, who had arrived directly from the field with dirt still on the edges of his boots. Lily came onto the stage wearing a paper leaf crown and found them in the audience immediately. Her face lit up with the uncomplicated joy of being seen.
Halfway through the second song, she forgot a line. Her mouth stopped moving, and panic flickered across her face. Ethan leaned forward, but there was nothing he could do from the audience. Victoria cupped her hands and silently mouthed the next word, which she had learned from a rehearsal recording Lily insisted on sending her. Lily recovered, completed the song, and looked toward Victoria with visible triumph.
Afterward, outside the school, Ethan thanked her. "You didn't have to memorize an entire song for one word."
"I didn't know which word she'd forget."
"That's a fair point."
Lily ran toward them carrying a paper wreath. "Did you see me?"