Dune Drive

by Mariah Stewart

  “Is your future stepmother the same person as your father’s girlfriend? Has something changed since last week?”

  Jared nodded. “Delia. Yeah. They just decided to get married. The wedding’s in a couple of weeks.”

  “That’s great. I hope they’re really happy and that she keeps writing those fabulous books.”

  For a moment it appeared he was lost in thought.

  “Jared?” She waved a hand in front of his face.

  “Oh. Sorry. I just sort of zoned out for a moment.”

  “I said, I hope your dad and his bride are happy and that she doesn’t stop writing.”

  “She’ll never stop. It’s what Delia does.”

  They started to walk back toward Kelly’s Point Road.

  “So what did you and Sophie cook for the star-studded private feast?” he asked.

  Chrissie ran through the menu for him.

  “Oh man. That all sounds so good. I wish I’d been there. I love fried chicken and waffles, and you could feed me oyster fritters every day of the week and I’d be a very happy man.”

  “I make them all the time for Gigi. Next time I’ll let you know and you can join us. If you want to, that is.”

  “If I want to? Seriously? Date and time, all I need to know and I’ll be there.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They reached her car and she stopped. He’d finished his ice cream and tossed the empty dish into a nearby trash can.

  “Thanks for the ice cream.”

  “Never let it be said I don’t pay my debts.”

  “So are you touring the town this Sunday?” he asked.

  “I’m planning on it.”

  “How ’bout I meet up with you again?”

  “Sure.”

  “Put my number into your phone and give me yours. I’ll send you a text or you can text me if there’s a change. Otherwise, I’ll meet you in the lobby at the inn around noon.”

  They exchanged numbers, and when she was finished putting his information into her phone, she said, “I’ll see you on Sunday.” She started to walk to her car, then turned. “Can I drop you off at the inn?”

  “No, I think I want to walk,” he said.

  “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Before she could get to her car, he called to her.

  “Last time you got to pick where we went. How ’bout this time I choose the itinerary?”

  “Sure.” She opened the driver’s-side door and got in, wondering what he had in mind.

  In four days, she’d find out. She could hardly wait.

  Chapter Seven

  You be heading down to the inn now.” Ruby stood in the kitchen, a mug of tea in her hand and that look on her face that Chrissie’s mother always called Ruby’s know-it-all look. Her gaze lowered to Chrissie’s sandaled feet. “Might want to put on some sneakers.”

  Chrissie looked down at her sandals. They were white leather and were thickly cushioned, a good choice for walking, she’d thought, since it was Sunday, and Sunday meant walkabout with Jared.

  “Might want to put on a shirt with some sleeves and maybe a pair of shorts ’stead of that short skirt you got on.”

  “May I ask why I should change?” Chrissie said as respectfully as possible.

  “Sun gonna be hot today. Don’t want to catch a burn.” Ruby drank some tea, then opened the cookie jar. “Looks like Owen cleaned us outta those chocolate cookies you made the other day.”

  “I’ll make more when I get back.” Chrissie kissed Ruby on the cheek and tried to ignore the fact that the woman had that same look on her face, the one that said I know things you don’t know. The look Chrissie had been trying to learn to ignore since she arrived on the island and still hadn’t figured out how. “Are you sure you don’t want to visit with Grace today? I don’t mind waiting if you’ve changed your mind and you want to take a few minutes to get ready.”

  “I be fine right here. Got that new book to finish. But you see her at the inn, you tell her I’ll be calling on her this week.”

  “I’ll see you in a while.” Chrissie went out the back door, then stopped. Had she told Ruby she was going to the inn? She didn’t think she had. “Gigi,” she called back into the store, “how did you know I was going to the inn?”

  “How do you think I knew?”

  Chrissie shook her head and went toward the car, then changed her mind and decided to walk. She was early, so she wasn’t afraid of missing Jared. She went around the back of the inn and over the dune to the road, then crossed the bridge into St. Dennis. Ruby had been right about one thing: it was going to get progressively warmer as the day went on, but the white tank top and the short khaki skirt would be just right if the temperature rose, so what was all that about longer sleeves and sneakers and shorts? Chrissie wondered if Ruby had gotten mixed messages somehow from where it was that her knowing came from.

  She smiled at a group of bikers who passed her who apparently were heading toward the island, since there was nothing else at this farthest end of Charles Street except for a few short side streets. The bikes and the helmets all had ISP stickers for the Inn at Sinclair’s Point, and she wondered if they were just early season tourists or if maybe they were there to check out the houses Cass had for sale. The last time they’d spoken, Cass had said she had three spec houses completed and they were beginning their ad campaign. Chrissie wondered how having all the new people on the island would change things. Ruby didn’t seem at all concerned, so she shouldn’t be, either. She wished she could afford to buy the house that would be built on the lot where the old Singer house had stood. She knew ancestors of hers had built that place. She’d stopped at the graveyard that still stood undisturbed next to the foundation of the old house. She was pretty sure one of her great-grandmothers was buried in that yard, and she kept meaning to ask Ruby about it. Her mother had told her so little, she was never really sure who was who.

  She tried to keep her mind focused on the island, and the graveyard, and the lost relatives—even the bikers—anything to keep her from thinking about Jared and the fact that he’d wanted to spend the afternoon with her.

  How crazy was that?

  The fact that he found her interesting enough to spend time with, even as a friend, was mind-blowing. Jared was everything she thought a guy should be now that she knew better. He was respectful, he seemed interested in what she had to say and listened when she spoke, he wasn’t pushy—he’d even seemed somewhat indignant about that staff member of Dallas’s who’d grabbed her butt—and he treated her like a person who had feelings and opinions of her own. The fact that he was probably the hottest guy she’d ever been within five feet of, well, that was a bonus. She’d always liked dark-haired guys with blue eyes, guys who were buff but didn’t try to show it off, guys who had a sense of humor, guys who were nice guys.

  Guys like Jared, but they’d never seemed to notice her.

  She felt that just getting to where she knew definitively what she liked in a man was a step forward for her. It had been so long since she’d noticed. Not that she was looking for someone. There was that whole trust issue to get past, but she’d cleared one hurdle, and that was enough for now. She’d know when she was ready for another relationship. She was pretty sure she wasn’t now, but being friends with Jared was helping her to relax and be herself with a guy. Knowing he didn’t expect anything from her helped a lot.

  Still, he was one gorgeous friend.

  He was waiting on the porch outside the back door of the inn when she arrived, and she wasn’t surprised to see a pretty redheaded woman talking to him. Jared seemed to be a magnet for beautiful women. Chrissie slowed her step. Had he forgotten they’d agreed to meet for a tour date? How embarrassing would that be? She’d almost stopped walking when he looked over and saw her there, and he smiled.

  “Hey, Chrissie.” He looked at his watch. “Right on time.”

  She tried not to let it show that she’d bee
n holding a big breath that she now had to let out. As she walked toward him, she heard him say, “Gotta go. My friend’s here. Have a great afternoon.”

  He came down off the steps and said, “So are you ready for our adventure today?”

  “I am. Was there anything in particular you wanted to see? Someplace you want to go?” Chrissie felt the heat from the redhead’s glare as the woman walked away. She tried really hard not to feel good about that.

  “Yes, and yes. Come on.”

  They were at the end of the driveway where it met the parking lot. Chrissie started off down the drive, but after she’d taken several steps, she realized Jared wasn’t with her. She turned to find him where she’d left him, his hands on his hips, his dark glasses covering his eyes.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I thought we were going to explore St. Dennis.” She pointed toward the center of town.

  “We are.” He took several steps in her direction. “But I thought we agreed it would be my choice this time around.”

  “We did.”

  “Okay, then, come on.” He took her by the elbow and led her down toward the water’s edge.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to explore St. Dennis.”

  Jared smiled at the young man standing at the water’s edge as they approached the dock. “Thanks for watching this one for me. I’m sure you could have rented it several times over.”

  “I couldn’t do that with your gear in it already,” said the guy, who appeared to Chrissie to be about fifteen.

  Jared slipped him what must have been a tip. The boy pocketed the bill and said, “Thanks. Have fun,” before walking away.

  Jared turned to Chrissie. “You ready?”

  “For what?” She looked at the boat, which she recognized. “Is that Owen’s boat?”

  Jared nodded. “He loaned it to me for the day. I picked it up at Alec’s earlier this morning. You know what it is?”

  She rolled her eyes and pretended to be insulted. “Please, you’re talking to a woman who’s been living on the bay for the past eight—almost nine—months now, and who spent a lot of summers here when I was a kid. Like I wouldn’t know a deadrise when I saw one. Especially since the name is right there across the back: Gigi. Duh.”

  He laughed good-naturedly. “I have to admit I’d never seen one before I started hanging around with Owen. Interesting design, that sharp bow and the flat bottom. I guess it makes a great work boat for shallow areas if you’re crabbing or digging oysters.” He reached a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go see what we can see.”

  He grinned and helped her step onto the deck. The soles of her sandals were leather, and she barely avoided slipping, catching herself before she fell.

  “Where are we going?” she asked for the second time.

  “Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

  He untied the boat from the dock and started the inboard motor. There were two chairs fixed to the deck, and he pointed to one.

  “I assume you know how to drive one of these.”

  Jared laughed. “I’ve yet to find the craft I couldn’t drive. Have a seat and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “So many questions.” That grin again.

  He backed the boat away from the dock and straightened her out, then headed north, driving slowly, taking his time.

  “Interesting perspective of the town from here, don’t you think?” he said as they went a little farther out into the bay.

  “There’s the park,” she said, stretching her neck and looking toward the shore.

  He pushed the throttle a little to increase the speed. “And around this next bend . . .”

  “Scoop and the marina.” She got up and went to the side of the open cabin to lean on the half wall. “There’s Captain Walt’s. And there’s Alec’s boatyard. I’ve never seen the town from the water. It looks so quaint and picturesque.”

  “Everything looks different from the water.” Jared stood behind her, one arm still on the steering wheel, and watched as they passed the big stone jetty upon which Captain Walt’s restaurant had been built.

  “Now for some fun.” He slowly let out the engine until they were speeding into the bay. Chrissie held on to her sunglasses and tried to hold back her hair, which was whipping around her face like a pale blond curtain.

  “Goat Island,” he said, pointing ahead, but she couldn’t hear him over the engine.

  “What?” she yelled.

  He eased back the engine. “Goat Island.”

  “Oh, I remember Goat Island. In late August, they have a weekend they call Discover St. Dennis. It’s when they show off the town for tourists. They have a big parade and boat races. The island is the turning point for the race. The boats go around the island, then head back to the finish line.” Chrissie remembered the last time she’d been in St. Dennis for the big celebratory weekend. Ten years ago? Eight? She couldn’t remember. “They have a cocktail party on Friday night to raise money for community things, like new playground equipment. It used to be a big boon for the town because it brought people into the restaurants and the B and Bs. I missed it last year by a month. I didn’t get here until September.”

  “Sounds like a fun weekend. Maybe I’ll come back for it this year if I’m not out of the country.”

  They were almost to the island, which was small, rocky, and uninhabited.

  “It looks smaller than it used to.” Chrissie stepped away from the cabin to lean on the railing near the back of the boat. “Of course, I’ve only seen it from the shore, so maybe it’s just a matter of perspective.”

  “It could be smaller now.” He slowed the boat even more as they drew closer to the narrow beach. “I’ve read about the bay waters rising and devouring low-lying areas. I wouldn’t be surprised if this little island has lost some ground. Owen told me that a number of islands have disappeared altogether. It’s high toward the middle, but the beach is low.”

  He drove the boat around the island, careful to avoid the large rocks that seemed to grow out of the water.

  “Yeah, look there.” He stood so close behind Chrissie she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She tried to ignore the goose bumps that rose on the skin there and the warmth that spread through her body. “See the rocks jutting out of the water, and the ones closer to shore? I bet they were part of the beach at one time. And I’d be real surprised if they still had boats racing around out here. It would be too easy to rip open your hull.” He turned back toward the steering wheel. “Which is why we’re heading out.”

  He swung toward the center of the back, and once he hit deeper water, made a wide turn.

  “Where to now?” she asked, stepping into the shade of the canvas canopy that hung over the open cabin. The sun was getting hotter by the minute, or so it seemed. She could feel her shoulders starting to sizzle in the short time she’d been out of the cabin area.

  “Up a lazy river.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “All the rivers around here are pretty lazy.”

  He pointed ahead. “Keep your eyes open and you’ll see.”

  Again, he took his time, keeping the boat at a slow and easy speed.

  “Hey, look. That’s the Altman House.” Chrissie pointed toward land. “That’s the only house to be hit by a cannonball during the War of 1812. The people in town knew the British would be sailing at night and would fire on the houses closest to the water. So they kept their houses dark and set lanterns hanging in the trees. When the Brits came close to the harbor—which was too shallow to bring them close enough to shore to see much of anything except the lights from the lanterns—”

  “They fired at the trees. Owen told me that story.”

  “Only one house was hit, and that’s it.” Chrissie pointed to the redbrick house that stood back off the bay at the end of a lush grassy lawn. Pilings had been built to shore up the dock where a long cabin cruiser was moored. “Gigi tol
d me one time that the cannonball is still embedded in the back wall of the house.”

  “Imagine, we’re probably right about where that British ship was when it fired that cannon,” Jared said.

  “The town was besieged by more than the British. You might have heard the stories about the pirates that used to come into the cove.”

  “Pirates,” he said flatly. “Now who’s talking about the improbable?”

  “No, they really did. Gigi used to tell us the stories when we were little. They’d tie up in the cove and come ashore in the middle of the night, then they’d capture all the young women in the town and take them over to the square, where they’d keep them for three days, then ransom them back to the husbands or fathers or brothers.”

  “And you believe that?” He scoffed. “Any self-respecting pirate would have just taken the women and rowed back to the ship. After they pillaged the town.”

  “No, it’s true.” Chrissie laughed. “Gigi said so. There’s even a weekend in St. Dennis to commemorate the event every year.”

  “Sounds more like another event intended to bring in tourists than a commemoration of a real event.”

  “Well, of course they’re exploiting it. But it did happen.”

  “So they, what, call Rent-a-Pirate?”

  “No. Guys from town dress up like pirates and carry off their wives or girlfriends or sisters, then they have a sort of auction and someone has to cough up the cash to get them released.”

  “Does St. Dennis have some kind of commemoration every month? It seems like there’s always something.”

  “That’s because something is always going on. It’s a tourist town, and the local businesses do well as long as the tourists keep coming back. They have events right through the winter. November and December are really busy around here.”

  “I’ll bet.” He turned the wheel slightly to the left. “Owen told me the War of 1812 was when some people were driven out of St. Dennis and onto the island.”

  “By ‘some people,’ you mean our ancestors—Owen’s, Lis’s, and mine,” she said. “Did he tell you why they were sent across the river? They had to ford it, right about where the bridge is now, with only whatever possessions they could carry.”