He seemed as surprised at her tease as she was, and a bigger grin was his reply.
“Here’s the day’s agenda,” she said, slipping on her sunglasses and pulling a flyer out of her handbag. “The parade starts at eleven from Town Square and comes down to Main Street, right there—” she pointed to the corner “—follows all along Main to the top of the hill where you probably drove in off the highway and that’s where it disperses. Meanwhile stalls will be setting up in the square along with some food trucks plus a couple of kiddie carnival rides.”
She felt his eyes on her as she read and tried to keep the piece of paper steady in her hand. “There are various activities around town. A rubber ducky race down at the marina, a pie-eating contest outside the Tasty Bake Shop at one o’clock, music in the park—that’s the green area at the bottom of the square—at two, a strawberry shortcake festival at the church opposite Town Hall, all afternoon for that—”
“Or as long as supplies last,” he broke in.
She laughed. “I’m already worn-out just reading this.” She shoved the flyer back into her handbag. “Of course, there will be fireworks after dark, about nine or so.”
“Sounds like a full day.”
“We’ve missed the pancake breakfast at the other church in town, two streets over from here. Sorry.” She giggled and immediately hated herself for doing so.
“Maybe we can do breakfast together tomorrow morning,” he murmured, his gaze holding hers.
Grace took a calming breath. She felt a sudden tug into the past and all of her failed relationships. Then Henry’s parting words popped into her head. Have fun.
“Sure.” She cleared her throat and managed a smile. “Where to first?”
“I think the parade,” he said and reached for her hand.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DREW HAD SEEN countless July Fourth parades, but even before the bandmaster raised his baton high in the air to signal the start, he knew this one was already memorable. But only because Grace’s hand was tucked into his. He gazed down at the top of her head, barely reaching his shoulder, and smiled. In fact, he hadn’t stopped smiling since he got out of his SUV and saw her standing in the doorway of Novel Thinking.
Well, he corrected himself, until he’d spotted that brief shadow in her lovely face minutes ago, as if she were lost in thought or in another place. Had it been something he’d said? It came and went so quickly he thought he’d imagined it but no, he decided. It happened right after he’d joked about having breakfast together next day. Had she inferred some other meaning in his remark that accounted for that unreadable expression? Or was it him, completely misinterpreting her smiles as interest in him?
When the drum majorettes pranced by, he bent to ask, “Were you one of those once upon a time?”
“Nope. I couldn’t keep the baton in the air.” Then she quipped, “Now if the auditions had involved balancing an armful of books while walking with my nose in one at the same time, that would have been another story.”
“But I’m sure you went on to bigger and better things in college at least.”
“In college for sure. But high school, that was a whole different game.” She turned back to the parade but not before he glimpsed that far-off look again. He wondered for a second if she was remembering a high school crush. Maybe the one she’d admitted to the other night—the chef at the restaurant. What intrigued him was the fact that most people got over their high school crushes.
By the time the volunteer fire department had marched past, along with the local Rotary club and then a float featuring a giant lobster and a cookpot, Drew was ready to head for the food vendors. Fortunately, Grace agreed.
“Parades never seem to change. Same costumes, same bands and music year after year,” she said as they walked toward the outside perimeter of the square where the stalls had been set up.
Drew laughed. “You sound a bit jaded. I thought you liked old things. Aren’t traditions part of that?”
“Of course, and I do like the tradition of parades. But I wish whoever’s in charge would ramp it up a bit. It’s always the same.”
“How many times in the last few years have you seen the July Fourth parade here?”
Her pink face was the answer. “Okay, you’ve got me. Maybe three or four times.”
“In how many years?”
“This is getting embarrassing. I left for college at eighteen and I’m thirty-two this summer.”
“A handful of times in fourteen years?”
“Probably. Are you saying I’ve no right to complain about the parade?”
“I’m teasing, Grace.” He squeezed her hand. “My track record watching parades back home isn’t much better.”
They’d almost reached the first row of stalls when he impulsively asked, “But I’m curious. It sounds like you didn’t go home a lot after leaving for college. Why was that?”
Letting go of his hand was the first sign that she hadn’t liked his question. The second was the stiffness in her voice. “I don’t think that’s unusual. College, summer jobs and then a real job...all kept me busy. Plus, I was in Augusta.”
“Sure.” He could have pointed out that Augusta wasn’t so far away or that he’d gone to college in Des Moines, half a state away from the Spencer farm, and still had managed visits home. But he wasn’t about to spoil the moment, much less the day. He was beginning to wonder if she had a moody side or a touchiness about certain subjects. If only he could second-guess what they might be.
The first stall they came upon had a cluster of children around it. Drew stretched his neck to see what was on sale. “Candy,” he told Grace. “Little chocolate lobsters, candy floss, caramel corn and saltwater taffy.”
“If there’s fudge...”
He peered over the heads in front of him again. “Um...yes... I see fudge.” Then he slowly worked his way through the crowd until he reached the edge of the long table where he realized that most of the kids were gawping rather than buying. That eased his conscience about butting in. One of the harried-looking vendors asked, “Help you, sir?” and seconds later he was handing Grace a wedge of chocolate fudge while clutching a small bag of caramel corn for himself.
“It was either this or maple walnut.”
“You made the right choice.” She bit off a corner. “This is one tradition I hope never changes.”
They strolled along the line of stalls, glancing at the tables but content to walk and munch. The mood blip earlier was forgotten. Unless I put my foot in it again, Drew thought.
The crowds around the edges of the square were thick now and Drew was relieved when Grace suggested going down to the harbor. “I’m not a fan of hordes of people,” he said as they left the square. “Maybe it has to do with growing up on a farm. All those big open spaces with very few people.”
“The Cove was smaller when I was growing up and you could hardly walk a block without meeting someone you knew, but still it seemed different back then. I found the busyness of Augusta overwhelming at first, until I grew to like the anonymity of a bigger place.”
“True. That can be refreshing.”
“And appealing.”
“We agree on some things, then.”
“More than just ‘some,’ I hope,” she said. She stowed the rest of her fudge in her handbag and took his hand again.
He pressed it gently as they strolled down toward the harbor. Drew was happy to find the waterfront less crowded. “Ah, this is better,” he said, taking a deep breath of salty air.
“Totally.” She suddenly pulled him toward the steps leading to the boardwalk below the street. “I think I see the rubber ducky race. C’mon.” She dropped his hand and strode briskly to a group of adults and kids standing at the water’s edge.
Drew smiled, thinking at least there was something here that excited her. By the time he caught up to her she�
�d managed to wriggle through to the front. She waved for him to join her, but he shook his head. He was content to stand back and watch Grace. The group was cheering on at least twenty or more rubber ducks of all shapes and sizes. A couple of older teens on Drew’s right seemed to have a betting pool going as the ducks bobbed randomly toward the shore. Drew noticed a skiff about fifteen feet out where they had probably been set into the water. A raucous mix of cheers and groans greeted the first ducks to arrive at the finish line, a long rope tied between two buoys.
Grace worked her way back through the crowd, a grin in her face.
“I see this event is a winner for you.”
“I entered it almost every year from the time I was seven or eight till I was twelve.”
“Ever win?”
“Never!”
Her laugh caused a few heads to turn and Drew impulsively hugged her. She was gazing up at him when a voice behind them got their attention.
“Gracie?”
An older couple was walking toward them. The woman instantly reminded Drew of Grace and as they got closer, his guess was confirmed.
“Mom? Dad?” She didn’t sound pleased.
“Your father and I were just talking about you, wondering if you’d make it to some of the events.”
“Well, here I am.”
Her mother’s gaze passed quickly over Drew, then back to Grace. The father studied him longer. Drew held out his hand. “Drew Spencer.”
Grace quickly said, “Uh...this is my father, Charles Winters, and my mother, Evelyn.”
Drew moved his hand from the father to the mother, who clasped it warmly. He liked her instantly, noting the sparkle of interest in her eyes and a smile identical to Grace’s.
There was a lull after the introductions. Drew figured the parents were waiting for some further information than his name.
“Are you new to the Cove, Mr. Spencer?” Evelyn asked.
“No, I’m from Portland. Here for the weekend.”
“Lovely,” she said. “Is this your first July Fourth celebration here, then?”
“It is.”
“Enjoying it?”
“Very much.” Drew glanced sharply at Grace, waiting for her to explain something more about him but she remained silent.
“Perhaps a bit smaller than the one in Portland,” Evelyn added.
“Um, well, I haven’t actually experienced one in Portland yet. I’ve only been there less than a year.”
Charles Winters broke in. “We’d best go, Ev. Ben’s waiting.”
Drew noticed Grace relax until her mother said, “Won’t you two join us? We’re having lunch at The Daily Catch. They’ve got a clambake organized and Ben’s saving a table for us. Please come. It’ll be fun.”
Grace opened her mouth to speak just as Drew said, “We’d love to, thanks.”
He knew he’d made a mistake from the look Grace shot him, but he reasoned she could easily have come up with some excuse. When she didn’t, he decided meeting her family might give him some insight into Grace Winters. As they approached the outdoor patio set up on the boardwalk in front of the restaurant, a tall, broad-shouldered man rose from a chair to greet them. He had the same curly dark hair that Grace had though his was trimmed, and his chin and hawkish nose were clearly from his father.
“We bumped into Grace, Ben,” Evelyn said, “and this is Drew Spencer. A...uh...a friend of Grace’s.”
Grace’s brother shook hands, giving him a once-over similar to his father’s. They sat down as the waiter appeared.
“Oh? Hello again,” Sandy said. “Back so soon? I guess we were a hit the other night.”
Drew was the only one to return her pleasant smile. After orders of beer, wine and seafood platters were given, Drew felt obliged to explain, since Grace remained exasperatingly quiet. “Grace and I had a wonderful dinner here Thursday night.”
Three sets of eyes turned to Grace sitting next to him but only her mother spoke. “How nice. We haven’t been here in ages, have we, dear?” She looked at her husband, adding, “I see now why you couldn’t make it for pot roast that night.” She reached across to pat Grace’s forearm, resting on the table.
Drew thought the mother’s smile was a mix of delight and amusement. He had a feeling she didn’t mind Grace missing the pot roast if dinner with him at The Daily Catch was the reason.
Drinks were delivered and Ben said, “Cheers everyone! Happy July Fourth!” When he set his beer down, he peered at Drew across the table. “So, where did you two meet? In Portland or here at the Cove?”
“Here,” said Drew. “I came to—”
“He’s a friend of Henry’s,” Grace interrupted. “I met him through Henry and he’s staying at his place while Henry’s in Portland. He has a doctor appointment there and decided to spend a couple of extra days visiting his sister. Drew is cat-sitting.”
Drew hoped his jaw hadn’t dropped because he was having difficulty processing the blend of fact and fiction that had spewed automatically from her mouth. A mouth he’d fantasized kissing a few times over the past twenty-four hours. “Yes, I...uh... I’m looking after Felix for the weekend,” was all he said.
The food arrived and was all they talked about while eating a variety of seafood, corn on the cob and fries.
“Do you have family in Portland, Drew?” Evelyn asked at one point.
“No, Mrs. Winters. My family’s in Iowa, where I grew up.”
“Good heavens! What brought you to the East Coast?”
“A combination of things but specifically childhood books on lighthouses.” He smiled at all four faces turned his way.
Grace suddenly piped up. “I heard there’s strawberry shortcake at the church. Maybe dessert?”
“I’m absolutely positive I won’t be able to eat dessert after this.” Evelyn gestured to the platters of leftovers. “One platter would have been enough.”
“They’ll pack it up for you, Mom,” Grace said. “I’ve had enough, too.”
Drew had been watching her peck at the food on her plate and suspected she’d either lost her appetite from the fudge or from her efforts to steer the conversation away from why Drew was in town. At least that’s what he guessed she’d been doing.
Charles signaled for the bill and as Drew went to withdraw his wallet from his pants pocket, raised a hand. “No, I insist. Cove hospitality.”
“Thank you, Mr. Winters—and Mrs. Winters.” Drew looked Evelyn’s way and was rewarded with a smile. He wasn’t quite as certain about his reception from the father and brother. They were definitely interested and curious, too. Not that he blamed them. His introduction had been sketchy to say the least.
They prepared to leave after the containers of the lunch leftovers were brought to Evelyn. Drew saw her take Grace aside and speak quietly to her.
At the same time, Ben asked, “So what’s your job in the Coast Guard, Drew? Are you there as a civilian or officer?”
“An officer. I was in search and rescue but now—” He happened to glance across at Grace, shaking her head at him. “Now I’m in admin.” Drew found himself both annoyed and mystified. What was her problem?
Ben nodded. When he noticed his father rising shakily from his chair he rushed to his father’s side. “Dad, let me help.”
Evelyn Winters walked over to say goodbye. “I’ve invited you and Grace for Sunday dinner tomorrow. Please persuade her. We’d love to have you both.”
Drew smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Winters.”
“Evelyn, please.” She tucked her arm through her husband’s and gave a small wave.
Drew sensed Grace coming up beside him as they watched the three slowly make their way along the crowded boardwalk.
After a moment, Grace spoke. Her voice was cheery—falsely so, he thought. “Where to now?” she asked.
He looked into h
er dark eyes. “Someplace quiet,” he replied. “Where we can talk.”
To her credit, she didn’t play coy with him and simply said, “Why don’t I take you to Henry’s place? It’s away from all this activity.”
“Fine. Let’s collect my car and drive there. I assume his place has road access? Or is it too close to the beach?”
“It’s on the first street up from the waterfront, running parallel to the beach road. There’s parking.”
“Okay then, shall we go?” He didn’t reach for her hand, no longer sure if he ought to. Were they simply two people negotiating a possible business agreement or, as he’d almost begun to imagine hours ago, something more? Perhaps after their talk, she wouldn’t be as enthusiastic about spending the rest of the weekend with him. Of course, he could always go back to Portland. Then he remembered the cat. Well, if Grace no longer wants my company, the least she can do is take the cat until Henry gets home.
They worked their way through knots of chatting adults and children running frenetically here and there to where Drew had left his car. He swore softly, noticing that the street had now been blocked off at one end and there were so many people crossing back and forth that he couldn’t risk making a U-turn.
“I don’t have much stuff,” he said. “Looks like we’ll have to leave the car here and hike it. Is it far?”
She shook her head. “I can help.”
He removed a small backpack, his laptop and a cloth bag of assorted food items. “Nonperishables,” Drew explained. “Coffee, a loaf of bread, peanut butter. My go-to emergency rations. I wasn’t sure what Henry would have or what would be open this weekend.”
“That was a good idea, though I bet Henry left something for you. He thinks like that.”
Drew handed her the cloth bag, hoisted the backpack over one shoulder and grabbed hold of the laptop. “Will the car be okay here till tomorrow? What about parking enforcement?”
“It’s pretty relaxed on holidays. You can leave it here until you go back to Portland if you want. Whenever.”
He noticed her glancing up at him but busied himself adjusting the backpack on his shoulder. There was no point making a commitment about when he’d be leaving Lighthouse Cove. They still had much to talk about after those awkward few minutes with her parents. Drew suspected the impression that he’d finally begun to know Grace Winters might be all in his imagination.
His Saving Grace Page 9