She was sorting thread, a mindless task she'd invented to keep her hands busy, when the bell above the door rang, and she looked up and there he was, hat in his hand, looking around the shop with an expression she could not immediately identify. "Clara," he said. Ethan. She set down the thread, made herself meet his eyes. What can I do for you?
It wasn't a question. She'd removed the question mark deliberately. He noticed. I just I wanted to. He stopped, ran a hand over the back of his neck, the gesture so achingly familiar that she had to look away for a moment past his shoulder at the window.
I heard you're still running the shop. Thought I'd come by. I've been running the shop, she agreed. Is there something you need made? Altered?
No, I He stepped further in and she had to fight the urge to step back to create distance. She held her ground. Clara, I know this must be I imagined seeing me was a surprise. It was unexpected, she said. You didn't write ahead.
The words came out flat and neat, and she watched them land. Something shifted in his face. No, he said quietly. I didn't. Is your wife settling in?
All right. I imagine Silver Creek is different from what she's used to. Her name is Margaret. He said it with a slight emphasis, like he was trying to make Margaret real, make her present in the room. She Yes, she's settling.
She's adaptable. That's a good quality. Silence. The shop smelled of beeswax and fabric, and the faint metallic edge of the scissors she kept on the worktable. Ethan looked around again at the shelves of fabric bolts, the dress forms, the organized careful arrangement of everything.
You've kept it up, he said. There was something in his voice. Warmth maybe, or the performance of warmth, and she could no longer tell which, and it's my shop, she said. He looked at her then directly with what she recognized as the particular expression he used when he was trying to communicate something he didn't quite have the words for. She'd spent two years of her life learning to read that expression, filling in the gaps for him, translating his silences into meaning.