The humidity had blanketed her with a sticky, wet heat, so she decided to take the envelope with her downstairs where she could investigate it further in the cool breeze of the bay. With it still in her grip, she left the attic and went outside onto the stoop where the sea air nearly chilled her sweaty skin. Inside the envelope was a letter addressed to Anne. As an impulse, she looked around to make sure no one was watching, even though she was isolated at the Roberts’ cottage. She was being nosy, and she knew it.
She chewed on her lip as she began to read the letter, and she wondered if she should read any further, since the letter had been written for Pete’s grandmother. Libby looked around one more time to ensure that she was alone. Just to be on the safe side, she took the envelope and its contents down to the beach where she could sit in the hammock and read with no interruptions.
She sat down and got comfortable, the old rope creaking beneath her in time with the rising and falling of the waves. The wind caused the letter to flap in her hands so she smoothed it out on her lap, pinning the envelope underneath it, and read:
My Dearest Anne,
I hope this letter finds you well. Thank you for coming to dinner with the others to welcome me back home. I really enjoyed it. I wanted to pull you away and tell you all of this then, but I know that you are an honorable woman, and I would not put you in such a precarious position as to require an immediate response. So now on to the reason for this letter.
Anne, I am shamefully in love with you. My affections for you transcend duty and honor, and I am willing to take a knock to my reputation if it means spending the rest of my life by your side. While I know in my heart that you will not leave your husband, I wanted to put forth this gesture just in case you ever reconsider. Come to Chicago with me. We can live in the city, travel, do anything you’d like. I will buy you a ticket immediately should you want to come with me. You can just leave; I’ll ensure you have everything you need. You know where to find me. I will be waiting, whether you come or not.
Forever yours,
Mitchell
This was not what she had expected to find. Nestling the letter inside its envelope, Libby folded down the jagged flap of paper at the end and pressed it down in her hands. She wondered what Anne had thought of this proposition. Had she considered it? What would her life have been like if she’d accepted Mitchell’s offer and left Hugh to move to Chicago? Indignation swam inside her as she processed Mitchell’s words in the letter. How could he think he could step in and try to ruin what Pop and Nana had together, she wondered? They’d always been the perfect couple, full of love for each other, completely happy. How could someone have tried to interfere with their relationship? She lay back on the hammock and closed her eyes.
She pictured Nana, and a memory of her and Pop one summer’s day came to mind. Pop had a pontoon boat—a big, flat, slow thing that inched its way along the bay. It had a row of seating down each side and a canopy above the helm. Nana always insisted on having a cooler for mixed drinks, her bottle of wine and a picnic basket full of fresh vegetables, crackers, and fruit. Pop dutifully hoisted it all onto the boat before every voyage. Pete had taken Libby along with Pop and Nana on a ride out into the middle of the bay so they could go swimming.
Libby sat on the boat, hugging her knees to keep the chill off her, her tank top coverall flapping in the sea breeze as the boat made its way out into the bay. Pete sat beside her with his arm around her bare shoulders. Occasionally, he toyed with the tie to her swimsuit at the back of her neck. His soft touch, the sun’s heat, and the lull of the waves against the boat were making her drowsy.
Pop came to a stop and lowered the anchor, the boat swaying on the water. Libby was too relaxed to swim, so she’d opted to stay on the boat and read a book. Pete stayed with her. Pop turned on the radio, beach music filling the air. Nana began unpacking snacks and drinks and setting them on the small table on the side of the boat. She had on a halter dress that fell past her knees, and sandals.
There was an ease to the way Pop and Nana communicated. Watching them move about the boat together was lovely. Libby had tried to read, but they were more entertaining. They’d done it so many times that they knew exactly what the other needed. One moved, while the other leaned, back and forth, as they laughed together, helped each other, and set up for the day. When they were finally settled, and Nana was sipping her Chardonnay, Pop gently took it from her hands and set it down next to the picnic basket. He pulled her close to him, placing a hand on her back and holding her other hand out to the side, and he started to dance with her. He spun her around, making her laugh, and then swayed back and forth in time with the waves. Nana lay her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, a smile on her lips. The sight had made Libby lean toward Pete, and he wrapped his arms around her, intertwining his fingers at her shoulder. She thought how she’d like to be that happy one day.