He tried for a smile. “That’s great.” Over two weeks. How many dates would he have to go on? He’d figured on two or three tops. This was getting worse and worse. Maybe he could email and say the spark just isn’t there in person. That was a thought.
The server arrived to take their drink orders, but since they’d decided what they wanted, they ordered their food as well. He wanted the date to be over, and the sooner they got their food, the sooner he could take her home. Relax. You don’t want her thinking you’re eager to get rid of her. He felt a moment’s pang at the thought. It wasn’t that she wasn’t nice, but he was tired of feeling uncomfortable. And it wasn’t the stiff shoes.
While they waited for their food, Arielle more than held up her end of the conversation, but service was slow, as was typical for a fine-dining establishment. His faking skills lacked, and he didn’t have it in him to try harder. Still, she didn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, my goodness, this looks delicious,” she said when the server set their plates down. She stabbed a small chunk of spinach leaves and slid it into her mouth.
Tucker placed the white cloth napkin in his lap, said a quick silent prayer, then dug his fork into the capellini. He ate here regularly, and the shrimp-and-pasta dish was his favorite, but tonight his taste buds seemed numb.
“This place is hopping. I’m surprised you were able to get a table on such short notice.”
“Fine dining is huge here, especially during the summer. This place books up a week in advance, but Brant’s an old friend, so he squeezed us in.”
“Is Nantucket the kind of place where everyone knows everyone? The island’s not awfully big.”
“Yes and no. In the summer the place swells with tourists and summer people. A lot of them own homes and come back year after year, so you get to know them. I have a lot of repeat customers that I’ve gotten to know pretty well.”
They talked between bites of food, her mostly. When the server brought their bill, he tucked the cash inside the leather folder and set his napkin on his plate.
He didn’t want her to feel rushed, but she’d finished her salad and refused dessert. Maybe she was ready to call it a night too. Or maybe she’d suggest they go somewhere else. Dread parked itself at the curb and fed the meter.
“You probably have to get up early in the morning,” she said. “Maybe we should call it a night.”
He exhaled quietly. “I do have an early run. Would you mind?”
She set her napkin on her plate and scooted her chair back. “Not at all. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”
That’s what he was afraid of. Tucker walked her to the car and helped her inside, then slid behind the wheel. The evening was warm and dark, the stars dotting the cloudless sky.
“Thank you so much for supper. I haven’t had a salad that tasty in years, truly.”
“You’re welcome.”
They talked about his job on the way home, and he told her stories he’d repeated a dozen times to other people. Before he knew it, he was pulling into Sabrina’s drive. A light shone from the window, and he thought he saw the movement of a shadow. He put the car in park, turned off the ignition, and helped Arielle out.
As they ascended the steps, his mind spun. Would she expect a kiss? Should he shake her hand? Hug her? Nothing seemed appropriate. None of it appealed.
They reached the small landing, and she faced him in the circle of porch light. Her skin glowed golden. “Would you like to come in for a few minutes?”
His eyes went to the window. He wanted to see Sabrina, but not under these conditions. “Not tonight, thanks. I should get home and to bed.”
She touched his arm.“Well, thanks so much again for a wonderful supper.”
“You’re welcome.” Should they make plans to meet again? She probably expected him to, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He only wanted to get home and write Sabrina.
Sweetpea: When Jared left me for my cousin, I couldn’t help but think of my dad and the pain he went through when my mom died. I even wondered if suicidal tendencies were hereditary. Is that crazy?
Chapter Twenty-one
Sabrina pressed her face to her bedroom wall and peered through the sliver between the drapes. It seemed Tucker and Arielle had been gone an eternity. She tried to stay busy with last-minute research for Renny’s new manuscript, but her mind hadn’t left Tucker and Arielle all night.
A glance at her digital clock proved they’d been gone less than three hours, not long for a date. But, oh, those hours had crawled.
When Arielle and Tucker came into view, her mood deflated like a punctured party balloon. They looked perfect together. Arielle in her gauzy white dress that displayed her long, lean legs, and Tucker in his crisp white polo that showed off his broad shoulders. Her sleek blonde hair was the perfect foil for his dark curls. They looked like a couple. Like the wealthy summer people who sunned in the afternoon and dined in the evening at the exclusive restaurants.
They stopped on the landing, Arielle too close to the door to be visible from her position. Tucker was in full view, the cone of porch light a mellow spotlight on him. Would he kiss her goodnight? Please, no.
She didn’t think she could bear it. The image of Jared and Jaylee flashed like a blinding beacon in her mind, the memory so fresh it stole her breath.
She turned, pinning her eyes to the opposite wall, to the shadowed painting of a meadow she’d bought at a Nantucket gallery the summer before.
Arielle wouldn’t let him kiss her, would she? Then again, she’d asked her cousin to play the part. And wouldn’t Tucker find it odd if she turned away? Why didn’t I have this conversation with Arielle?
Unable to resist, needing to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt, Sabrina peeked through the slit. She heard Arielle’s voice, muted, then Tucker’s. Why hadn’t she thought to crack the window?
Her cousin reached out and touched Tucker’s arm. Sabrina pressed her lips together. Was touching really necessary? She waited to see how Tucker responded.
But after a small smile, he was turning away, and then she heard the click of the front door closing.
Tucker’s footsteps thudded down the stairs, and a moment later his car started.
“It’s safe to come out now,” Arielle called.
Was it? Did she want to hear about the date? It’s not like you have a choice. You’re going to write him, and he’s going to find it a little odd if you have date amnesia.
A tap sounded at her door. “Sabrina? I know you’re awake.”
“Come in.” She plopped on the bed as Arielle entered and flipped on the lamp.
Arielle’s dress flared across the bed as she sank down. “Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“You know very well what. He didn’t try to kiss me goodnight—not that I would’ve let him.”
Sabrina didn’t know how to respond. Admit she’d been worried? Pretend she didn’t care?
“In fact, I have to say it was nice to go out with a gentleman. He didn’t so much as touch me all night.”
Relief flowed through her. Then a second later, she wondered why he hadn’t. If he felt as strongly about Sweetpea as he claimed, wouldn’t he want to touch her? Hold her hand? Maybe he was taking it slow, afraid of rushing after it had taken so long to find her.
“Did he ask how I found you?” Sabrina asked. They’d invented a story about Sabrina finding Sweetpea on another chat site, just in case.
Arielle frowned. “Actually, he didn’t. So much for all that planning and rehearsing.”
“Well, he might ask next time.” The whole idea of a next time made her want to vomit. “Or the time after that.”
Arielle spread out beside Sabrina and rolled to her side. “We went to DeMarco. Have you been there?”
“Not a restaurant I can afford on my salary, but I’ve heard it’s good.”
“Oh, my goodness. That salad was heavenly. They brought around this dessert tray, and the
panna cotta looked so yummy, but I knew you were waiting with bated breath, so I said I was full, but truth be told, I could have so tied into that thing.”
Sabrina felt a stab of guilt for the jealousy she’d felt moments ago. “I appreciate that. So, what did you talk about all night?”
“A lot of nothing, really. I told him about teaching preschool and that I live in Macon. You said that was okay, right?”
He would’ve been suspicious if Arielle had kept her occupation a secret. “Right.” Sabrina turned to face Arielle, propping her head on her palm.
“So, let’s see, we talked a little about his job and about Nantucket. I told him I’d be here for two more weeks.”
He must’ve jumped for joy. Maybe the whole kiss thing had worked out for tonight, but did she really think a red-blooded man was going to keep his hands off a woman like Arielle for two weeks?
“That was kind of odd, come to think of it. He didn’t seem overjoyed, but maybe he’s not the expressive type.”
“Did you make plans to go out again?”
“Not really. We just said we’d chat on email and left it at that.”
They were quiet for a moment, and the hum of the air conditioner filled the gap. Would he write when he got home tonight? Would he say he enjoyed her company?
“He’s a good listener. I think I talked too much, but it was so refreshing to be with someone who actually listened, you know?”
He was a good listener. Why did it hurt that Arielle appreciated the same quality? No, not hurt. Made her feel threatened.
Tucker is not Jared. And Arielle is not Jaylee.
Yeah, but Tucker thinks Arielle is you.
She squeezed her eyes closed and wished this were over, for time to fast-forward two weeks. She longed for simpler times when she was just Sweetpea and he was Harbormaster.
It had gotten so complicated.
“I wish you’d tell him the truth.” Arielle disrupted her thoughts.
“You just want to bail on our agreement.”
“I just want you to find happiness.”
“Trust me, telling him the truth won’t bring either of us happiness.”
“Maybe you’re not giving him enough credit. He seems like a nice guy.”
She’d been through this. But even a man like Tucker had his limits. She couldn’t expect Arielle to understand, because her cousin didn’t know the whole truth. “Just keep your end of the bargain, cuz, and I’ll keep mine.”
Arielle sat up and shrugged. “Fine by me. He’s not exactly an ogre.” She scooted across the bed and bounded onto her bare feet. “Well, I’m going to grab a bath before bed.”
“Goodnight.” Sabrina lay in bed until she heard Arielle shut off the water, then went to check her messages. Tucker had been home long enough to write. She opened the program, half hoping he’d written, half terrified of what he’d say.
In the end, all the emotions were for nothing, because there was no letter from Tucker at all.
Sweetpea: I went to the library yesterday and spent a lovely afternoon buried in a book of poetry. Are you sure you don’t like poetry? Maybe you’ve just never tried Longfellow.
Chapter Twenty-two
When Sabrina returned from work the next day, Renny was pruning the rosebushes by the front walk. She hunched over a bush of pale pink buds, examining the petals of a rose in full bloom. The sun beat down on her back, and beads of sweat had popped out on her forehead.
“Afternoon, Sabrina.” She straightened from her crouch, swiping the dirt from her red Hawaiian shirt.
Sabrina pulled her mail from the box and approached. A warm breeze blew in off the ocean, stirring the loose hairs by her ear and carrying the fragrance of roses. “Gan Eden is looking lovely. But you picked a hot day to garden.”
“Well, the muse always visits while I’m pruning, and after last night, I need a visit.”
“Didn’t go well?” Sabrina leafed through the mail, bills and junk.
“I wrote two pages in four hours.”
When Renny was on a roll, she could write two chapters in four hours. “Sorry to hear that. I’m sure it’ll come to you. It always does. Have you heard anything on Danger in the Night?”
Renny stretched her back, then swatted a fly. “No, no, nothing good, I’m afraid.”
It was early yet. Surely they wouldn’t reject that one. Renny’s stories were better than many of the books she bought. She shook her head. “It’s only a matter of time.”
Renny laughed, her leathery skin creasing at the corners of her eyes. “You’re good for my ego, that’s for sure. How are you doing, amita? Having a nice visit with your cousin?”
“She sure livens up the place.”
Renny laughed. “I’m glad she came. She’s good for you—full of simchah!”
“Simchah?”
“Joy, full of joy! You need more joy in your life. Your cousin’s a believer?”
“How did you know?”
Renny tapped her temple. “I know these things.”
Sabrina shook her head and made her exit. Returning to her apartment, she was glad she had no plans. Tucker hadn’t written that morning, and she was eager to see if an email awaited her.
The loft was empty, and a hot-pink Post-it was stuck to the computer monitor. Went for a walk.
Sabrina set down her bag and opened the email program. Tucker had been quiet at the café. A couple times she’d caught him staring at her with a strange expression, but when she caught his eye, he looked away.
One message waited in her inbox, the one she’d hoped for. She clicked on it.
Hey there. Hope you had a good night’s sleep. I checked my schedule when I got home last night and it’s pretty full today. Saturdays are crazy this time of year. Would you mind if we didn’t get together tonight? My schedule is lighter tomorrow. Maybe a picnic or something? Your call. If you’re up late tonight, maybe we can chat awhile.
Sabrina stared at the words until they blurred. He hadn’t mentioned their date. Hadn’t said what a wonderful time he’d had, hadn’t told her she’d looked beautiful. But then maybe he told Arielle that last night.
Not something she wanted to dwell on.
At least he and Arielle wouldn’t be together tonight. It was something. Her cousin would be relieved.
She hit Reply and stared at the blinking cursor. He wouldn’t get the message until late, but maybe when he returned they could get a conversation rolling.
Before she could formulate her thoughts, Arielle returned, her skin glistening from the hot sun, her hair pulled into a high ponytail. “What a gorgeous day! I think I’ll put on my suit and go for a swim. How was work?”
“Okay.” She closed the email, deciding to put supper on first. She wondered if Arielle had gone to the grocery for fruit and vegetables. Having a vegetarian in the house changed mealtime.
At least Arielle would be home for supper, though she didn’t know yet. “I have good news,” Sabrina said.
Arielle rummaged through her stack of clothing, a lumpy pile she’d shoved into the hollow recess of an end table. “You’re telling Tucker the truth?”
Sabrina tilted her head and glared at the back of her cousin’s head. She refused to give credence to the comment. “You’re free for the night. Tucker wrote and said he was booked until late.”
Arielle pulled her bathing suit from the pile and stood, frowning. “Oh. Well, okay.”
“I’ll put something together for supper,” Sabrina said.
“I already made a fruit salad for you. I guess I’ll be having that too.”
Sabrina watched Arielle shut the bathroom door. Not the reaction she’d anticipated. Not that her cousin had seemed disappointed, but for someone set on avoiding dates with Tucker, she sure hadn’t seemed relieved.
Harbormaster: I talked to Tracey again today. Divorce is for the birds. I’ll spare you the sordid details, but I still want to beat the guy to a pulp. Does that make me a bad Christian? There’s all that “turn the o
ther cheek” stuff, but it’s hard when the person who got slapped is your sister. She’s already been through so much.
Chapter Twenty-three
Tucker couldn’t stand the thought of faking it today. He had to pretend to some extent, but after his long day yesterday and another restless night, the thought of entertaining Arielle, running into people he knew, introducing them, was too much to stomach.
Which was how he came to be standing at his grill, flipping steaks. He checked the underside of the T-bones, then flipped them, hoping Arielle would arrive before he singed them. The potatoes were done, resting in their foil skins on the table. The broccoli was keeping warm in the steamer.
He’d offered to pick up Arielle, but she’d replied, saying she’d walk over. He’d been certain it was Sabrina at the keyboard. It had been her short, snappy sentences. When he envisioned Arielle’s emails, he imagined long run-on sentences, punctuated with “oh, my goodness.”
Now he wondered if Arielle had gotten lost between Sabrina’s house and his. She was twenty minutes late. The sun was low on the horizon, but there was plenty of daylight left. She didn’t believe in cell phones—he’d learned that on their last date—so he couldn’t call. He should call Sabrina and see when she’d left. The idea gelled, an excuse to talk to her more than anything.
He turned the grill to low and dialed Sabrina. She picked up on the second ring.
“Hey there,” he said.
The pause lasted so long he was about to identify himself, but then she responded.
“Tucker. Is something wrong?”
He smiled at her immediate assumption. “Does something have to be wrong for me to call?”
“If past experience is anything to go by.”
“Come on, now. Isn’t it possible I just called to see how your day went? To see if Oliver stumped you with a word yet? To see if—”
“When you’re on a date with my—with Arielle—not so much.”
Tucker sank into the wicker deck chair. “Okay, you got me. I called to see when Arielle left. She’s not here yet.” At the moment, he wouldn’t mind if she had taken a detour. A very long one.
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