For the second time in less than a minute, he’d surprised her. This time she blushed. “He’s just being nice.”
Jeremy laughed as he shifted the truck from neutral to reverse. “No one who’s lived here more than a couple of years goes to the boardwalk voluntarily. Unless they’re hooked on the gelato.”
“You mean ice cream?”
“Have a scoop of the vanilla bean while you’re there, and then let me know if you still think it’s just ice cream.”
THE FIRST THING Diana did when she returned from her run was go inside to look for her phone. Thankfully, it was on the dresser and not somewhere along the trail. In the hour and a half she’d been gone, she’d received six voice messages and fifteen texts. She skimmed the voice mail numbers, stopping to listen to one from Michael. He’d called to cancel their night at the boardwalk, saying something had come up that he had to take care of, and asking if she was available the next night.
Until that moment she hadn’t known how much she’d been looking forward to doing something dumb and fun . . . and to seeing him again. Determined to ignore the disappointment, she returned his call, reaching his voice mail. The message she left was too forced to come across as lighthearted as she’d intended.
“Hmmm . . . I love the ‘available’ part. As it so happens, I am free the next night.” And every night after that, she could have added, but he already knew that. “Give me a call if you have to cancel again. It’s okay. Really.” Too much. “See you tomorrow. Bye.”
Instead of returning the other calls and texts, Diana dropped her phone on the kitchen table and poured a glass of wine. She wandered from room to room, winding up on the enclosed back porch where she sat on the edge of a Mission style chair and looked around the oddly decorated room.
The walls were covered in an art deco wallpaper that looked as if it had been there since 1930. The floor looked original, too, not the factory oak that was in the rest of the house. Here there were expansion spaces to allow the boards to respond to the environment.
Something about being there drew her gently into another world, one of stories told in a whisper too soft to make out the words. This mysterious world enveloped her in an aura of peace and love so subtle that she doubted what she felt was real. How many lovers had kissed in this room? How many had made promises to each other that they knew they wouldn’t keep? How many tears had been shed over those broken promises?
She got up and went to the window. An empty bird feeder hung from a hook on the eave, a sad looking finch sat on the tray. Waiting. Diana imagined him wondering what he had done that had made the food go away and brought such a dramatic change to his life.
Damn it. She wanted her life back. She wanted to be the person she used to be, the one who rebounded from being dumped by guys because she believed with all her heart that true love was out there waiting for her.
She didn’t want to wait another year and a half before she took a chance again. So what if she still couldn’t trust her instincts about men and met someone new and had her heart broken a third or fourth or fifth time? She would survive.
Raising her wineglass to toast herself, she saw that her hand was shaking and her vision had become blurry with tears.
She gave herself the moment, indulging in the sorrow that she’d learned came with healing. What she missed as she wiped her eyes was the sun clearing a cloud and sending a brilliant ray of light through the window. For just a moment, the ray landed on a tiny piece of sea glass.
Diana caught a flash of blue light out of the corner of her eye. She put it off to a prism created when sunlight hit glass. Easily explained. Certainly nothing magical or mysterious to mark a life-altering moment.
Overcome with a sudden sense of purpose, she took her half-full glass back to the kitchen, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed to the grocery store to buy birdseed.
Chapter Eleven
DIANA SAT ON a bench facing the ocean, saving their seats while Michael bought them fish and chips. She couldn’t decide if it was painful or embarrassing to be so wrong about so many things at the same time.
First was the gelato, which Michael had insisted she taste before they did anything else. She sampled several flavors and finally settled on the vanilla bean. As promised, it was smoother and denser and richer tasting than any ice cream she’d ever had, even the ones in special cases at the grocery store that were so expensive they came in tiny tubs to hide their per ounce price. Best of all, it was two-thirds the calories of regular ice cream. In the simplest terms possible, even with the reduced calories, gelato was a distinct threat to the twenty pounds she’d lost in the past six months.
Second, she’d honestly believed she would be bored out of her mind at a boardwalk carnival. Seen one, seen them all, as her brother liked to say. He hadn’t been talking about carnivals at the time, but it still fit.
She was anything but bored. How much that had to do with Michael holding her hand as he dragged her from one ride to the next, she’d save to figure out later.
Michael returned, balancing two paper plates and a tall glass of beer. He put the beer between them on the bench, then handed her a mound of deep fried fish and French fries. “Sorry—I could only handle one drink.”
“I’ll share,” she said, smiling sweetly.
He laughed. “Well, that’s mighty nice of you, partner,” he answered in a truly awful attempt to mimic John Wayne.
“What can I say? I’m a nice person.” She broke off a piece of steaming fish, and held it out to him.
Instead of taking it in his hand, he leaned forward and let her put it in his mouth, his lips touching her fingers. A flush raced up her arm and spread throughout her body like a flock of starlings fleeing from a hawk. With as much subtlety as she could pull off, she maneuvered away from him until she was sitting on the edge of the seat.
She struggled to find something for them to talk about that would put them back in neutral territory. “When Peter interviewed me for this job, he said you would be leaving as soon as he and your mother came home.”
“Leaving the galleries, not the area. I’ve been hired by the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary as an ecosystem scientist. The job doesn’t start until mid-August, which left me free to help out at the gallery while my mom and Peter were traveling.”
“I’ve never heard of an ecosystem scientist. What do you do?”
“I’ll be assigned a marine species that’s exhibiting unusual behavior, usually one with dramatically decreased or increased numbers, and try to figure out why it’s happening.”
“That could get pretty depressing.”
“Not necessarily. But if it turns out the change is from global warming, we need to know how and why it’s happening to that particular species.”
“Is your brother a scientist, too?” From what Michael had told her about Paul, it appeared they were close.
Michael laughed. “He’s about as far away from it as you can get. He’s on the fast track to be an agent at the William Morris Agency in Los Angeles.”
“Wow. How did that happen?”
“He started out as a grunt in the mailroom and then moved up to be an assistant to one of the newer agents. It looked like he was going to be stuck there until one day he walked in with Chris Sadler as a bargaining chip.”
“The actor who owns the house on the cliff?”
“Who also happened to be a longtime summer resident of the house Jeremy’s working on. He and his mom had June and my family had August so we never met while we were here, but the summer renters were a small group with a lot in common.
“Paul and Chris met at a party and got to talking. One thing led to another and they became friends. Since then Chris has opened a lot of doors for Paul. And Paul made sure Chris had first crack at the role that got him the Oscar.”
Diana picked up her last piece of fish, started to
take a bite, and put it back down. She was stuffed. “You do know all this food kills any possibility of getting me on any more rides.”
“Which means we’ll just have to come back.”
She smiled impishly. “Wow. You’d really do that for me? Most impressive.” Ooooh . . . stupid statement. She sounded like she was flirting with him. Which was something she definitely didn’t want to do, no matter how much fun it was.
“Not to take anything away from that heroic self-sacrificing thought, but there is the gelato. I’ve been a fan since I was ten.”
He’d saved her. And he’d done it on purpose. “Yes, there is that.”
Remembering she’d promised her brother, Brian, pictures of the boardwalk, she took out her phone. Unlike her, he loved carnivals. He was her one sibling she knew she could count on to visit her in California, especially if she used the boardwalk as a lure. He was also the one sibling who would see the ocean and feel an instant connection the way she had.
Best of all, he would like Michael. She knew this as surely as she knew her mother would be a long time forgiving her if Brian came to visit and never went home.
Michael followed her as she moved to different locations. “You can get a good pano shot of the entire boardwalk from the beach.”
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was a half hour to closing. How could that be? “Looks like it’s something I’ll have to save for next time.”
“One last thing.” He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her to the carousel.
“I don’t know about this,” she said.
“Come on—I’ve seen five year olds who went on this ride after eating deep fried Twinkies with a cotton candy chaser. Are you going to let them best you?”
“Now you sound like my brother Brian, the one who insisted I go on Ferris wheel after he’d fed me all that junk.”
“Is that bad?”
She considered the question. “Sometimes. But you’d have to know Brian. He’s my one sibling who thinks I can do anything.”
“I can see why he’d think that.”
She stopped to look into his eyes to see if he was teasing her. He wasn’t.
I wish I could see it was the truthful answer, but it sounded pathetic, even to her. Instead, she said, “Brian has never cut me any slack. He’s the only one who doesn’t care that I’m the youngest and supposedly the ‘baby’ of the family.”
He was the only one in the family who didn’t commiserate with her when she lost the house. Instead, he’d been furious that she’d had such low self-esteem that she’d allowed someone like Howard into her life in the first place.
Michael laughed. “I wouldn’t cut you any slack either.”
“All right. I’ll go on the ride,” she said with no real enthusiasm.
Michael gave her a thumbs-up signal and went to get their tickets while Diana listened to the music coming from the throaty pipe organ. When he returned she got into line, and waited for the carousel to stop. As soon as everyone had cleared off, she started toward a gleaming chestnut horse with his head thrown back, carrying a blanket of yellow roses. Michael made a grab for her arm before she stepped onto the wooden platform.
“Not so fast,” he said. “There’s more to this than jumping on the first horse you see. See that arm over there?”
She nodded.
“For us competitive types, the goal is to snag a ring from the dispenser and toss it into the clown’s mouth. You get about a second and a half to do this, which means you have to be on the outside row and on one of the horses that moves.”
“And if I get the ring in?” She was beginning to warm to what she’d always thought of as a ride for little kids.
“The clown lights up and a bell goes off.”
“And then?”
“There is no and then.”
“That’s it? No prize?” She made a face. “I could use a new car.”
Michael laughed. “Me, too.”
She loved the way he laughed, free and spontaneous. She couldn’t help but smile in response. This had been a good day.
Slowly, as soon as all the riders were on board, the carousel came to life again. She stood on the sideline watching the horses, immediately spotting two that didn’t move and could make it hard, if not impossible, to snag a ring. She settled on a horse that had been patterned after a Lipizzan stallion, white with a black and gold and red saddle, its head tucked low, both front legs extended as if running at full gallop. “Okay, I’ve got my horse picked out.” She grinned. “Now all I have to do is elbow all the little kids out of my way.”
Diana didn’t have to knock anyone out of the way. Michael snagged the horse she’d chosen, and with effortless grace, lifted her into the saddle as if she weighed no more than one of the five year olds still waiting in line. He took the horse directly opposite hers, a stallion with its head up and teeth bared, sporting a red and blue and yellow saddle, with carved peacock feathers woven through his mane and tail, a true Black Beauty.
“You look like a knight about to ride off into the sunset at the end of a fairy tale,” she said.
“And you look like the princess.”
This time it was her turn to laugh. “Oh, gag.”
The carousel held almost as many adults as children when it started. Diana turned her head, acting as if she were studying the upcoming arm that held the rings, but in reality trying to hide a flush of pleasure. Twenty-nine was too old to get this excited about tossing a ring into a clown’s mouth.
Michael leaned closer to give her tips on timing and how to aim. He let out an excited whoop when during her first attempt, the ring made it into the clown’s mouth without touching the sides. “You’re a natural,” he shouted over the music.
“I have two brothers who played any sport that had a ball. They made me practice with them every afternoon when they were supposed to be helping me with my homework.” For the first time ever, she was grateful for all the times they’d dragged her down to the empty field by their house to make her chase balls.
The ride ended with Diana two bells and lights to four misses. Michael lifted her off her horse, hesitating a second longer than necessary before lowering her to the wooden floor, turning the gesture into something startlingly intimate. He reached for her hand to guide her off the carousel. She purposely ignored him, stuffing both hands into her pockets and turning what might have been a simple courtesy into something painfully awkward.
The trip to the parking lot passed with inane chatter that Diana instigated and Michael worked to sustain. The car ride back to the cove bordered on agonizing. When Michael pulled into her driveway, he twisted in his seat to face her. “I hope you like it here.”
Her heart did a funny little skipping beat. “I do,” she answered. “So far.”
Realizing how easily the last could be misinterpreted, she added, “Really—what’s not to like?”
He stumbled over his answer, starting with, “I’m glad you’re staying . . .” And ending with a simple, “Good.”
“Peter’s been calling me every day to see how it’s going,” he went on, then shifted in his seat so that he wasn’t facing her anymore. “He said he’d fire me if you changed your mind about the job and took off for Kansas.”
She hated forced laughter, but out it came, making her sound like a frog trying to throw up a bug. “Not much of a threat considering you’re quitting as soon as they get back.”
“What if I told you that I wanted you to stay, too?” he said.
No Michael, she mentally screamed. No, no, no. Don’t do this to me. “I guess I’d say thank you.”
He stared at her for a long time, his look unfathomable. “Too soon?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Then forget I said it.”
Her eyes flashed a grateful smile. “Okay.”
&
nbsp; She met his gaze.
He wasn’t going to forget.
And neither was she.
Chapter Twelve
MICHAEL WAITED UNTIL Diana was inside before he took off, cursing himself for being such an idiot. She’d told him in every way possible, short of sitting him down and writing it in the sand, that she wasn’t interested in anything beyond friendship—with him or with any guy. What had he been thinking when he’d come on to her the way he had?
He pulled into the driveway too fast and tapped the brick wall Peter had installed to keep guests from going off the rock embankment.
Too bad there wasn’t a mental retaining wall that did the same thing.
He-was-such-an-idiot.
With nothing or no one waiting for him, Michael got out of the car and sat on the wall, facing the ocean. This was his favorite kind of night here, a thin line of foam pushed ashore by lazy waves, an almost full moon the only light in a neighborhood where people were either in bed or deep into their own thoughts, a soft breeze that carried smells to trigger memories yet unformed.
The quiet was shattered with the hideous sound of Aqua singing “Barbie Girl.” Whatever had made him think it was a good idea to keep the personal contact ringtone for Leslie that she’d put on his phone as a joke?
Leslie was the last person he wanted to talk to. “Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”
She was crying. “Can you talk?”
He could, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. “Sure. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need someone to talk to. Luke and I had a fight.”
And she came to him? WTF? “Was it serious?”
“You’re going to love this. He said I have a commitment phobia. Why does every guy I date want to tie me down? Why can’t they understand I need space to be the me they claim to love so much?”
“You’re asking the wrong person, Leslie,” he said, his words tinged with frustration.
She came on point. “I thought I could talk to you about things like this now. I thought we were friends.”
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