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didn’t know Kate or her husband, Steve, well enough to like or dislike them but I knew a little about them, and as usual was leaping to a few conclusions. I knew that they had very recently started a chocolate-making company in their tiny home. Black Dinah Chocolatiers was named for the small mountain behind their place. I thought I recalled hearing that Kate was originally from California, but couldn’t say for sure. She and Steve had been on Isle au Haut for a few years, coming at first to work as a chef at the Keeper’s House, which at the time was the only B and B on the island. Kate had a reputation as a fabulous cook. When the inn closed, the couple had scrambled to find a way to make a living and remain here, which they now considered home. California and chocolate making were both foreign to me. So I had imagined I had little in common with my neighbors. They could have been aliens as far as I knew. In spite of my craving for some verbal human contact, I planned a courteous nod of acknowledgment and hurried to pass as we grew near.
    â€œLinda! Hi! Isn’t this the most gorgeous day? I am so glad to see someone else out enjoying it!” Kate stopped, spread her arms to both sides as if embracing the western hemisphere, tilted her head toward the sun, and closed her eyes. It was as if she were meditating, which was what I would expect from a Californian. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I remained silently staring at this woman who had a natural beauty, almost an aura about her. Then she suddenly snapped out of her trance and looked me in the eye. “How’s the writing coming?” she asked with some genuine concern. I had grown accustomed to people asking and then not listening. As if they felt it an obligation to inquire—like asking about someone’s health when they look fine and not wanting to hear if they aren’t. Now Kate raised her eyebrows in expectation of an answer.
    â€œSlow. I am having the hardest time keeping a schedule. I thought I would crank the chapters out—there’s so little distraction here this winter. I think I’m going stir crazy.” I smiled now at my first public admission that life was not all hunky-dory.
    â€œOh dear. It must be awful. I’d be going nuts too if it weren’t for Steve. And Al and Kathie. And Lisa. And Alison. And Jeff and Judi.” Kate might have mentioned a few other names. I’m sure she didn’t mean this as a hint that I needed to make some friends. But the point was well taken. Why
didn’t
I have any friends? I had fishing buddies. I had Bill Clark and Hiltzie. I had my cousin, Dianne. I wondered if a cousin was automatically a friend. “We finally have a minute to catch our breath after the Valentine’s Day chocolate rush. I just got a note from Mariah asking for summer work. Can you believe the kids will be out of school in a couple months? You should come over sometime.”
    This was the first almost invitation I had received to do anything since the summer crowd had left. I wondered if Kate was just being polite. She appeared to be getting ready to launch back into her walk. I couldn’t let her get away. It might be days before anyone else spoke to me. “Why don’t you and Steve come to my house tonight? I don’t know what I have to serve for dinner, but I must have something. And I have wine.”
    â€œOh, we’d love to. But we have other plans. Let’s get together sometime soon!” Kate left with a real spring in her step. I trudged the length of my driveway astonished that she and Steve had “plans.” And that, I presumed, would be the extent of my social life for what remained of the winter. And I had no one to blame for that but myself. I had so successfully kept people at arm’s length that if my neighbors didn’t include me in their scant social calendars, it was out of respect for my privacy and work schedule. How could they