For around three years now almost every time he leans over the cutting board in the kitchen and cuts up lettuce and other vegetables for a salad for that afternoon or night, he gets the same picture in his head. He mentioned it to Gwen once and she said she didn’t know what to make of it other than it being a good memory and of course the association of lunch in the picture and food he’s preparing, and salad more go with summer than any other season. Some six months ago she came into the kitchen while he was cutting up vegetables for a salad and said “Still getting that picture you told me about?” and he said “Same one, just a minute before you asked me about it. Weird, isn’t it. Keeps replaying and replaying.” The picture he gets is of them in Maine, five or six years ago, on the patio of Goose Cove Lodge a few miles out of Stonington, having lunch with Robin and Vincent, her best friend and her husband. And Vincent, holding up his wine glass, saying “This is just delightful; perfect. Beautiful day, wonderful company, delicious wine and food, absolutely magnificent setting, gorgeous view of the bay, heavenly smell of balsam or pine or both, and if we stayed around longer, no doubt a spectacular sunset. But let’s not talk of what’s not here. There’s more than enough that is. I can see why you come to Maine every summer. Who needs to go to Europe? Or the Hamptons or Vineyard? It’s all right here and then some. Thank you, dear friends, for allowing us to share it with you for a week. I am honestly and I hope convincingly moved,” and they clinked glasses — he, his coffee mug, as it was too early in the day for him to have wine and he had to drive them all back to the farmhouse — and drank, he just pretending to. He looked over at Gwen. She had that proud smile of hers again, as if saying to him “You see? You see?” and said to Vincent “What you said is what I, perhaps a little more than Martin, have always believed. What place could be better?” and he said “What are you talking about, sweetheart? I’ve always loved this part of Maine and want to come back to it with you forever.” “I said ‘perhaps a little more,’ but all right, I concede,” and Vincent said “I thought they’d never stop arguing. But good; peace at last.”
