She stepped onto the starlit deck to catch her breath, a cold gust of wind hitting her squarely in the face. She gulped it greedily, the sharp frosty needles prickling her throat and lungs, seeking absolution for what she had done. What had begun as an innocent flirtation three weeks ago had morphed into something else. With an older man. A much older man. And with her mother’s good friend, no less. She glanced quickly at the other guests around the table inside, oblivious to what had just transpired in the kitchen.

***

She had known him for most of her life. Every summer her family would relocate to the lake house development where he was a handyman. While she ran through the sprinklers and slurped Popsicles with her two best friends, he would quietly fix broken pipes, repair planking on neighboring decks, and stack firewood against the main community lodge where families gathered for picnics and outdoor movies. He was a nondescript presence that existed only on the periphery of her sun-kissed summer escapades.

Time passed and her brother went off to college. Then her sister. Then her. Her parents divorced. Her mother moved to the lake house development full-time to pursue painting and a bohemian lifestyle – the one she claimed her familial duties robbed her of all those years ago. Her father stayed in Minneapolis, earning a partnership at the law firm where he worked and remarrying a paralegal. She married her college boyfriend.

Her mother became a successful painter and bohemian, often entertaining other artists for weeks at a time with an endless parade of food, wine, and weed-fueled parties. Between part-time jobs and graduate school, she visited her mother less frequently, barely aware that the handyman and her mother had become close friends. He was still a shadowy presence that existed only on the periphery of her busy grown-up life.

At 35, she was divorced and in debt. The sluggish economy had rendered her Master’s degree nearly useless and she reluctantly accepted her mother’s offer to join her at the lake house for the summer. Depressed and out of options, she loaded her clothing, books, yoga mat, and dog into her luxury SUV, (paid for by the divorce,) and headed north.

She took nearly a month to decompress from the stress of her previous life. Sleeping late, rarely eating, leaving the house only to walk the dog, it was all she could do just to get dressed. Eventually, she noticed the handyman who stopped by to have coffee with her mother on the front porch every day. She overheard them talking about the weather, gossiping about the other residents, and deciding whether or not the community dock should be repaired by the association.

One morning she blithely joined them on the porch, curling her long legs beneath her as she settled into the wicker loveseat on the far side of the porch with a hot cup of coffee. Silently she watched as he picked at his jeans, ran his fingers through his thinning hair. Her mother and he talked animatedly about the Fourth of July picnic. He was a lively presence that now existed on her mother’s front porch.

Discreetly she observed her mothers interactions with the other men who came and went. Friendly, encouraging, helpful – yes, but she didn’t appear to be anymore flirtatious with one more than the other. She finally gathered the courage to ask her mother if she was dating any of them. Yes, was the reply. The architect down the road.

At the Fourth of July picnic, emboldened by cheap beer, she approached the handyman. I hardly know you but I’ve known you most of my life. Isn’t that weird, she asked him with a teasing grin. Not really, he replied with an engaging smile and turned to join the others near the bonfire. Curiosity peaked, she vowed to be more vocal during their coffee sessions.

***

She had accepted his request for help in the kitchen knowing what it could lead to, yet she politely excused herself from the table anyway. The other party guests were drunkenly chatting away in the other room when he came up behind her and gently kissed her on the neck while she was slicing pie. She turned to face him, kissing him urgently while his hands pulled her close to his warm body. Abruptly she pushed him away and calmly walked through the dining room and out onto the deck.