Chapter 10 - The Anniversary They Chose
On their sixth wedding anniversary, Silas forgot the reservation.
Not because he was careless.
Because Mallory called at four thirty and said, “I don’t want to go.”
He stood in his office, looking at the restaurant confirmation.
“All right.”
“No French food.”
“Agreed.”
“No candles.”
“Easily managed.”
“And if you bring me roses, I’m making you eat one.”
He smiled.
“What would you like instead?”
“A hardware store.”
He considered that.
“Romance has become very specific.”
“I need shelves.”
“For what?”
“My office.”
That silenced him.
Three weeks earlier, Mallory had signed a lease on two rooms above a neighborhood bookstore.
She was starting a small accounting practice.
Not rebuilding the career everyone thought she should reclaim.
Creating one that fit the woman she was now.
Her first clients included two local businesses and the worker advocacy group that had helped June.
She would charge ordinary rates.
Keep ordinary hours.
Close when she needed to.
The idea delighted her.
Silas met her outside the hardware store carrying no flowers.
She inspected his hands.
“Good.”
“I considered a fern.”
“Risky.”
They argued over shelf brackets for twenty minutes.
He preferred black.
She chose brass.
He surrendered with theatrical disappointment.
“You used to inspire fear,” she reminded him.
“I’m told it was exhausting.”
At home, Agnes was waiting in the kitchen with June and Nora.
They had ordered pizza.
Nobody shouted surprise.
Mallory had made it clear that sudden celebrations were not her favorite invention.
Instead, June raised a paper cup.
“To shelves.”
“To shelves,” everyone agreed.
Agnes had retired after receiving compensation and assistance through the proceedings.
She now spent Tuesdays teaching neighborhood children to sew.
June worked with the advocacy group, helping other workers understand their options.
Neither woman had built a perfect life.
Both had built lives that belonged to them.
After dinner, Nora revealed a cake shaped vaguely like a house.
“The bakery said the roof was structurally ambitious.”
Silas examined the leaning frosting.
“I know contractors who’ve done worse.”
Mallory cut the first slice.
Later, when their guests had gone, she found Silas in the living room holding a narrow envelope.
“What’s that?”
“Something you can say no to.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“A dangerous opening.”
Inside was a photograph.
Their old summer house.
The porch had been repaired.
The garden cleared.
The place where he had buried his watch remained undisturbed.
“I haven’t been there since you disappeared,” he said. “I thought we could go sometime. If you want.”
Mallory traced the edge of the image.
For years, memories had arrived carrying knives.
Now one came carrying sunlight.
Burned dinners.
Bare feet.
A ridiculous argument about time.
“Yes,” she said. “But not to become who we were.”
“No.”
“And we take a shovel.”
He laughed softly.
“For the watch?”
“It was expensive.”
“I thought you hated it.”
“I hated you checking it.”
The following weekend, they drove north.
The house smelled of fresh paint and cold wood.
Mallory opened every curtain herself.
They found the watch beneath the porch in a rusted tin.
It no longer worked.
Silas held it in his palm.
“Seems appropriate.”
She took it from him.
“Things can stop working without losing their worth.”
He looked at her.
She smiled before the moment could become solemn.
“I meant the watch. Don’t become unbearable.”
That evening, they sat on the porch beneath a blanket.
The lake darkened slowly.
No phone rang with a missing-person lead.
No one waited outside a locked door.
Mallory rested her head against his shoulder.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then she said, “I’m glad you found me.”
Silas closed his eyes.
“I’m glad you let me stay.”
She reached for his hand.
“Tomorrow, we put up the shelves.”
He kissed her hair.
“Brass brackets?”
“Obviously.”
Inside, the broken watch lay on the kitchen counter.
May you like
They left it there.
For once, neither of them needed to measure how much time they had lost before beginning the life still waiting to be lived."
