“Have a seat.” She knew he had taken a walk on the beach with Shelly a few days earlier, and she wanted to be irritated with him for it. She should be; he had intentionally discounted her concerns. But how could she be angry with him when he’d sent Shelly home in such excited good spirits? Shelly had talked of nothing else that night other than Rory this and Rory that and how she felt certain he could find her mother.
This yearning for her birth mother was brand-new. at least to Daria.
If Shelly had been feeling it, she’d kept it to herself all these years. Daria had talked with her sister about the possibility that Rory might fail to uncover anything new—a very real possiblity, since Daria was going to do her best to make sure that was the case.
Shelly had merely shrugged. “What will be, will be,” she’d said. It was an expression she’d picked up from Chloe, and Daria wondered if Shelly truly understood its meaning.
“So,” Rory asked as he sat down in the rocker, “was that someone you’re seeing?”
Daria was not certain what he meant at first. Then she understood and laughed.
“No, that’s Andy. He’s a bit too young for me.” She wasn’t certain exactly how old Andy was, but he couldn’t have been more than twenty-six or -seven.
“He’s a carpenter. We work together.”
“Ah,” Rory said.
His question had given her the invitation to be equally as inquisitive.
“And how about the woman you just walked to her car? Is she someone you’re seeing?”
“Not yet,” he said.
“I met her on the beach. We talked for a while, and I think we hit it off. She’s recently separated from her husband and seems pretty distressed about it.” He looked in the direction the woman’s car had taken, his interest in her so apparent that Daria felt intrusive for witnessing it.
“Do you think I’d be making a mistake going out with someone who’s newly separated?” he asked.
Yes, she thought. Big mistake, when you have me, ready and willing, living right across the street from you.
“Depends,” she said.
“Does she have a lot of emotional baggage?”
“Don’t we all?” Rory asked with a smile.
“Speak for yourself,” she said, although she knew she had a truckload all her own.
“I think she probably does,” Rory admitted with a sigh.
“She seems… wounded. Like she needs to be taken care of.”
“You always were the caretaker type,” she said, annoyed at the glib tone her voice was taking.
Rory groaned.
“Iwish you hadn’t said that. That’s exactly what the marriage counselor told me. He said that when I met Glorianne, she seemed helpless and needy and that I felt sorry for her and wanted to rescue her. Then when Glorianne got strong, I no longer felt needed. I don’t really buy that interpretation, though. I think as she got stronger, her strength and mine clashed because our values were so different. I don’t think I’m really a caretaker.”
Daria grinned at him.
“Remember that kid everyone used to pick on because he never caught any fish?” she asked.
Rory groaned again.
“You stuck a bunch of your own fish in his pail,” she said. She had thought it was a typical Rory Taylor kindness at the time. Now she realized he was a pathological rescuer. A strong woman didn’t stand a chance with him, and that suddenly irritated the hell out of her.
“So?” He looked defensive.
“Was that a crime?”
“And Polly. You were always rescuing Polly.”
“And you’re always rescuing Shelly.”
“Okay,” she said.
“The rescuing of sisters is hereby excluded from this discussion. Back to the woman.”
“Grace,” he said.
“Grace.” She nodded.
“If you go into it with your eyes open, I suppose it would be okay to go out with her. Just realize she’s probably not too rational at the moment.”
“Are you speaking from experience?” Rory asked.
“What are you implying?”
“I don’t want to bring up a sore subject,” he said, “but Shelly told me your fiance broke up with you a couple of months ago.”
“We are discussing you right now, Rory, not me.” She laughed as if she was teasing him, but the fact was, she
