The Husband Hour(46)

“So you’re not extending your stay?”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I have to get back to New York.”

Henny burst into tears. Okay, this was a bit more of a good-bye than he had bargained for. His phone rang, but he ignored it. Dropping his bag, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m fine.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry. This is very unprofessional. You were a model tenant. It was great to meet you. If you can rate me on the website, that would be helpful.”

“Sure. Not a problem. But maybe…can I come in for a second?”

Matt hadn’t spent any time on the first floor of the house. The living room was just as quaint and comfortable as his bedroom, with cozy reading chairs upholstered in pale blue and yellow, a white wicker couch decorated with starfish throw pillows, a white wooden coffee table, and, of course, painted signs everywhere.

“Oh, you know, I want to buy one of your signs before I go,” he said, an attempt to cheer her up so he could leave without feeling like he’d walked out on her. “Something to remember this trip by.” Though he wouldn’t soon forget it. The place where his film died.

The comment brought a fresh wave of tears. “You’ll be the last person to buy one.”

“Why’s that?”

“Nora took them down from the restaurant walls. She needs room to sell fancy, expensive photos!” She blew her nose loudly into a handkerchief. “My signs have been on the walls of the café since the day it opened.”

This is what he got for procrastinating.

“Well, um, maybe another place in town will sell them.”

“I’ve been looking around but any other place wants too much of a percentage of the sale. I won’t make any money. And I don’t want to raise the price.”

“Maybe you should sell these online. Then you keep most of the money and you have your own virtual store. I know you said you don’t like doing things on the Internet, but that’s really where things are at now. You can sell to people all over the country. All over the world.”

She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe when my son comes to visit for Thanksgiving he can set it up for me.”

“It’s not complicated. I can get you up on Etsy in no time.”

She brightened. “Really? If you can do that for me, I’m happy to give you a few nights here free of charge.”

“Thanks, but—”

“I insist!”

“I appreciate it, but I was here for work and now things have fallen through. I don’t have any reason to stay.”

The doorbell rang.

“Now, who in heaven can that be? And I’m a mess.” She dabbed at her eyes.

“Do you want me to get it for you?”

She nodded. Matt walked to the door, recalculating his timeline. He could set her up on Etsy, then grab lunch, then hit the road. He’d be back in New York by four.

Matt opened the front door.

“I changed my mind,” Lauren said. “I’ll do the interview.”

He stared at her.

The irony of timing was too much for him. He didn’t even have money to pay the sound guy and his DP.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, really just curious about the extent to which the universe was fucking with him.

“You were right about one thing. I do care about the truth.”

He looked at his packed bag just inches away from her. He thought of the two dozen index cards in the garbage upstairs.

He thought of Rory, chasing the puck in the crease, forty seconds left on the clock, game six of the Stanley Cup semifinals. He shoots, he scores…

“Come back in twenty minutes,” he said.



Lauren’s decision to talk to Matt had been a knee-jerk reaction to Emerson’s warning, and now that the moment had arrived, she was scared.

She stood outside Henny’s front door, her heart beating so hard and fast she felt she could barely breathe. I can just leave.

But no. She’d been going over and over it in her mind, and talking to Matt was the right thing to do. Yes, when he’d first shown up, when she’d learned about the film, she saw it as Matt asking something of her, taking something from her. And then when Emerson told her not to talk to Matt, she realized that Matt was actually offering her something. The chance to tell her story. Maybe it could serve a purpose. The truth might matter.

“Hey. Come on in. Almost ready for you,” Matt said.

“Wow. Is Henny okay with all of this?” Lauren asked.

All the framed photos and Henny’s signs were gone from the walls, and most of the chairs and the sofa had been pushed to one side of the room.

“Yes, she’s fine with it. Don’t worry. We’ll have this room back in shape by the time she gets home tonight. Can you have a seat in that chair?” He directed her to a dove-gray armchair that had been angled in front of the window.

“We’re going to…like, get right into it?” she said nervously.

“Let me check the setup here,” he said, twisting the legs of a tripod to stabilize it. She perched on the edge of the chair.

“And you said this would just take an hour?”

“Lauren, if you can just slide back an inch,” he said.

Lauren fidgeted nervously in her seat. Matt moved from behind the camera and sat across from her. He grabbed some papers from a nearby end table and handed them to her.