“Where are you parked?” he asked.
“Just at the end of the street.”
“I’ll walk you.” He closed the dishwasher and left the cottage with her.
“So,” she said, glancing toward the Sea Shanty, “will you take… what do you call it? Footage? Will you take footage of the Sea Shanty? Will you have the grownup abandoned baby on the show?”
They walked side by side down the cul-de-sac toward her car.
“I don’t know what shape the story will take yet,” he said.
“But I’m pleased that you seem intrigued by the idea. I want to make sure it’s a story that will appeal to the masses.”
Grace laughed, and he realized it was the first time he’d seen true levity in her face.
“Well,” she said, “I’m not sure I’m representative of the masses, but I certainly think the story of a foundling is interesting.” She pointed to the sedan parked on the side of the road.
“This is my car,” she said.
He couldn’t let her drive away without knowing if he might get to see her again.
“Do you visit your friend in Kill Devil Hills often?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“She was just down for the week. She’s leaving tomorrow.” “Well, now you have a new friend to visit in Kill Devil Hills.” It felt strange to be that forward, yet she looked pleased.
“Why, thanks,” she said, smiling that wide, engaging smile again.
“May I have your phone number?” he asked.
“Sure.” She rattled off the number. Neither of them had anything to write on, or with, but he memorized it. As she drove away, he saw her turn her head to look again at the Sea Shanty, and he knew he had a winner of a story on his hands.
So,” Andy said, ” if you take care of the wall unit, I’ll make the pantry they wanted for the kitchen. Deal? “
Daria barely heard him. She and Andy were sitting on the Sea Shanty porch, going over the designs for a house in Corolla, but her eyes were fixed on Rory. He and a woman had walked from the beach into his cottage. They’d been in there ten minutes or so, and now he was walking her to her car. He’d been bare-chested from the beach to Poll-Rory; now he wore a broadly striped white and blue short-sleeved shirt. The woman was tall and slim and had the gait of a model. Her dark bathing suit was cut high on her shoulders; her long legs probably bore no trace of cellulite. Damn.
“Earth to Daria,” Andy said. He stood up and slipped the drawings into his portfolio.
Daria smiled at him.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Yes, I’ll do the pantry.”
“No, you’ll do the wall unit,” he said.
“I knew you weren’t listening to me.”
“Was too,” she lied.
“I was just teasing you.”
Rory touched the woman’s arm, and Daria felt a strangely familiar sense of loss, the same loss she’d felt when she was eleven and he started hanging around with the older kids. She was losing him again, and she’d never even had him to begin with. She’d be the first to admit this obsession of hers was nuts.
“Do you teach your EMT class tonight?” Andy asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Wish I was in it.”
She smiled at him again.
“Iwish you were, too,” she said.
“See you tomorrow?” He pushed open the screen door.
“Okay.”
Rory was walking back toward his cottage now, but when he spotted Daria sitting on the screened porch, he waved and turned in her direction.
“Good luck,” Andy said to her with a grin as he closed the door behind him.
God, everybody knew she was in heat.
Rory and Andy exchanged a greeting as they passed each other in the Sea Shanty’s front yard, then Rory opened the screen door and stepped onto the porch. He stopped short and smiled.
“I walked in here just like when I was a kid, without knocking first,” he said.
“May I come in?”
“Of course,” Daria said, motioning toward one of the rockers.
