Jo was sitting across from her at the table, the kitchen glowing yellow, illuminated only by the light above the stove. After Katie had returned, she’d come over, specks of paint in her hair. Katie had started a pot of coffee and two cups were on the table.
“Nothing, really. After finishing the s’mores, we walked down the beach one last time, then got in the car and drove home.”
“Did he walk you to the door?”
“Yes.”
“Did you invite him in?”
“He had to get the kids back home.”
“Did you kiss him good night?”
“Of course not.”
“Why not?”
“Weren’t you listening? He was bringing his kids to the beach and he invited me along. It wasn’t a date.”
Jo raised her coffee cup. “It sounds like a date.”
“It was a family day.”
Jo considered that. “It sounded like the two of you spent a lot of time talking.”
Katie leaned back in her chair. “I think you wanted it to be a date.”
“Why would I want that?”
“I have no idea. But ever since we’ve met, in every conversation, you bring him up somehow. It’s like you’ve been trying to… I don’t know. Make sure I notice him.”
Jo swirled the contents of her cup before setting it back on the table. “And have you?”
Katie threw up her hands. “See what I mean?”
Jo laughed before shaking her head. “All right. How about this?” She hesitated, then went on. “I’ve met a lot of people, and over time I’ve developed instincts that I’ve learned to trust. As we both know, Alex is a great guy, and once I got to know you, I felt the same way about you. Other than that, I haven’t done anything more than tease you about it. It’s not like I dragged you to the store and introduced the two of you. Nor was I around when he asked you to go to the beach, an invitation you were more than willing to accept.”
“Kristen asked me to go…”
“I know. You told me that,” Jo said, arching an eyebrow. “And I’m sure that’s the only reason you went.”
Katie scowled. “You have a funny way of twisting things around.”
Jo laughed again. “Did you ever think that it’s because I’m envious? Oh, not that you went with Alex, but that you got to go to the beach on a perfect day, while I was stuck inside painting… for the second day in a row? If I never touch a paint roller again in my life, it’ll still be too soon. My arms and shoulders are sore.”
Katie stood up from the table and went to the counter. She poured another cup of coffee for herself and held up the pot. “More?”
“No, thank you. I need to sleep tonight and the caffeine would keep me up. I think I’m going to order some Chinese food. You want any?”
“I’m not hungry,” Katie said. “I ate too much today.”
“I don’t think that’s possible. But you did get a lot of sun. It looks good on you, even if it’ll lead to wrinkles later.”
Katie snorted. “Thanks for that.”
“What are friends for?” Jo stood and gave a catlike stretch. “And listen, I had a good time last night. Although, I have to admit, I paid for it this morning.”
“It was fun,” Katie agreed.
Jo took a couple of steps before turning around. “Oh, I forgot to ask you. Are you going to keep the bike?”
“Yes,” Katie said.
Jo thought about it. “Good for you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just that I don’t think you should give it back. You obviously need it and he wanted you to have it. Why shouldn’t you keep it?” She shrugged. “Your problem is that you sometimes read too much into things.”
“Like with my manipulative friend?”
“Do you really think I’m manipulative?”
Katie thought about it. “Maybe a little.”
Jo smiled. “So what’s your schedule like this week? Are you working a lot?”
Katie nodded. “Six nights and three days.”
Jo made a face. “Yuck.”
“It’s okay. I need the money and I’m used to it.”
“And, of course, you had a great weekend.”
Katie paused. “Yeah,” she said. “I did.”
The next few days passed uneventfully, which only made them feel longer to Alex. He hadn’t spoken to Katie since he’d dropped her off on Sunday evening. It wasn’t completely unexpected, since he knew she was working a lot this week, but more than once he found himself wandering out of the store and staring up the road, feeling vaguely disappointed when he didn’t see her.
It was enough to squash the illusion that he’d dazzled her to the point that she couldn’t resist stopping by. He was surprised, though, by the almost teenage-like enthusiasm he felt at the prospect of seeing her again, even if she didn’t feel the same way. He pictured her on the beach, her chestnut hair fluttering in the breeze, her delicately boned features, and eyes that seemed to change color every time he saw them. Little by little, she’d relaxed as the day had worn on, and he had the sense that going to the beach had softened her resistance somehow.
He wondered not only about her past, but about all the other things he still didn’t know about her. He tried to imagine what kind of music she liked, or what she thought about first thing in the morning, or whether or not she’d ever attended a baseball game. He wondered whether she slept on her back or on her side and, if given the choice, whether she preferred a shower to a bath. The more he wondered, the more curious he became.
He wished she would trust him with the details of her past, not because he was under the illusion that he could somehow rescue her or felt that she even needed to be rescued, but because giving voice to the truth of her past meant opening the door to the future. It meant they would be able to have a real conversation.
By Thursday, he was debating whether to drop by her cottage. He wanted to and had once even reached for his keys, but in the end he’d stopped because he had no idea what to say once he got there. Nor could he predict how she might respond. Would she smile? Or be nervous? Would she invite him inside or ask him to leave? As much as he tried to imagine what might happen, he couldn’t, and he’d ended up putting the keys aside.