Summer Harbor (25 page)

“He’s just being a kid. They say terrible, hurtful things, then turn around and sweetly ask for the car,” Kiley told him.

“So I shouldn’t be worried?”

“No. You did the right thing, Grainger. The thing we both agreed on.”

Grainger handed Kiley a new sheet of 120 grit sandpaper. With careful strokes, she gently went over the last foot of decking on
Random
’s bow, roughing it up for yet another coat of varnish.

Every day but this one had been sunny and warm as she pedaled along the bluff road, the sea at the edge of the horizon pure blue, no whitecaps disturbing its surface calm. Today the weather had changed, the brewing clouds providing a suitable background for her emotions. They were leaving tomorrow. The last week with Grainger, working on the boat or sharing a coffee break, hearing about his life here and telling about hers, had loosened a knot of tension that had formed so very long ago in her. There was a different tension now: once separated, would they lose touch, let go of each other again? Like returning to Hawke’s Cove, was this her last time to be with him? This tension was flavored with a new awareness of him as a man. Kiley woke in the night, hot beneath the light blanket. Throwing off the covers, she thought of Grainger and reminded herself that, despite this reunion, they were really two strangers just getting to know each other.

Conor had made some phone calls, and Kiley had interviews lined up for Tuesday and Wednesday next week. Once she had a new job, there would be no possibility of going back to Hawke’s Cove for the August Races. Kiley pressed the sandpaper too hard, leaving a gouge in the deck surface. She sat back and looked at it, then looked out at the disturbed water of Maiden Cove, its color ever-changing from gray to green.

“You know, the job I’m interviewing for calls for working a lot of weekends.”

“No race for you.” Grainger put on a Soup Nazi voice.

“No race for me.”

“But if you could, you’d come back?”

“I’d come back.”

“What about Will?”

“Do you really think he’s ready for racing?”

“No, but if he could stay on, I could take him out on my big boat with a couple of guys for practice.”

“I’m not leaving him, Grainger.”

“I know that.” Grainger folded his sandpaper into a neat square. “I’m not suggesting that you should. I know you’ve only got a little time left with him before he goes off to school, and I wouldn’t deprive you of a minute of it.”

“Would you have time to take him out before we go tomorrow?”

“There’s a small-craft advisory out—just look at that chop. A storm system is coming up the coast, which is why I didn’t take Will out today in
Blithe Spirit
like I promised. Another reason he’s mad at me.” Grainger turned back to the area he was working on.

“He’ll get over it.”

“Maybe we can do it another year?”

“Right, maybe another year.”

Before she left the house, Toby had called to tell her another offer was on the table. If it wasn’t this one, it would be another, until eventually, the house was gone.

Kiley pushed herself upright and glanced over at Grainger, on his hands and knees, his back to her. His shaggy hair hung over the collar of his blue work shirt, like a boy’s. Kiley felt an advancing dismay, just like in her childhood when it neared time to say good-bye and return to Southton. Would being with Grainger always be temporary, seasonal?

A glimmering rush of desire ran through her, from heart to loins. Not just physical desire, but a stronger desire for connection. Kiley wanted to lay her body against his and absorb him into her, to take his essense back with her. Maybe there would be a next year, a wholly different next year.

“Grainger?”

Her voice betrayed her thoughts, and he came without speaking to kneel beside her, opening his arms to let her rest her head against his shoulder. For a few minutes they knelt quietly on her father’s boat, feeling the dampness of the rising breeze touch their cheeks.

“Will I see you before you go?” His breath in her ear tickled.

“I hope so.” It was so familiar, this lump in her throat, this need to keep her emotions under wraps. No girlie tears shed. “Would you come to breakfast tomorrow?” Breakfast was a neutral meal, fraught with nothing more meaningful than having to choose sausage over bacon.

“I’d love to. It’ll be a good opportunity to ease Will into this.” Grainger pointed to her, then himself.

“This?” Kiley’s fingertip mimicked Grainger’s gesture.

“Us.” Grainger grasped her finger and held it. “If you think you can get rid of me by leaving Hawke’s Cove, you’re sadly mistaken.”

The lump shrank a little, making it possible for Kiley to laugh without tears.

After a few minutes, Grainger let her go and went back to his work. Half an hour later, he looked at his watch. “Damn, I’m late for an Historic Commission meeting.”

“I should be going, anyway.” The bow was done, ready for its last coat of marine varnish. Kiley gathered the discarded squares of sandpaper into a trash bag.

Grainger slid, sailor-fashion, down the ladder set against the side of the boat, and waited for Kiley to climb down. As she reached the ground, Grainger scooped her close for a moment’s hug. “Tomorrow, then. What time?”

“Eight?”

“Perfect. Look, I’m sorry to rush off…”

“Go.” Kiley pushed him away. “Go, protect Hawke’s Cove from people like Toby.”

Grainger lightly kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He jogged to his truck, Pilot scampering behind him.

Toby was waiting for her on the porch as she pedaled into the yard. Her car was in the driveway, so she knew Will was home.

With a heraldic tootle, Toby flourished a signed P and S agreement, setting it in her hands. “It’s better than we hoped for.”

“ ‘We’?” Kiley’s eyes widened at the amount typed in. “Whoa.”

“Shall we celebrate?”

“I’m fresh out of champagne.”

“Come with me tonight to the Yacht Club Auction. We’ll spend some of your new money.”

“I don’t know, Toby.”

Toby handed Kiley a pen. “Sign on the dotted line.” He watched as she hesitated, then scrawled her name. “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

“I didn’t say…”

Toby was already down the steps and halfway to his car. “Six-thirty!”

“So what are your plans tonight?” Kiley came out of the bathroom with her head wrapped in a towel.

“Going out with Catherine.”

Will was playing solitaire at the dining room table. Piled all around him were boxes loaded with the things she couldn’t leave behind. She was certain they wouldn’t be able to fit them all into her Mazda; she’d forgotten that they hadn’t come in a beach wagon. That’s what they’d always called the enormous Ford station wagon. Now she’d have to rent a van, or buy a roof rack. Well, that was tomorrow’s issue. Just for tonight, she was going to try and forget that by noon tomorrow, she and Will would lock the house for the last time and head back to Southton.

Kiley looked at her watch. Toby would be here in a half hour to collect her. “Are you going to get something to eat with Catherine, or do you want me to heat up some soup?”

“We’ll get a burger in Great Harbor.”

Will had been a little truculent about her going to the auction with the real estate agent.

“What do you want to go out with him for?”

“I’m not”—Kiley hooked her fingers into air quotes—“going out with him. He’s just taking me there, which is lucky for you: now you can have the car.”

“Catherine can drive.”

“Will, it’s not a date.”

“Then what is it?”

Good question. “A peace offering.”

It certainly wasn’t a celebration. He’d had her sign the agreement so fast she hadn’t been able to imbue it with the weighty significance it deserved. Wham, bam, it was done. As soon as Toby was gone, she’d called her parents with the news.

“I signed the P and S agreement.”

Her mother’s voice betrayed no emotion, neither joy nor sorrow. “Good.”

“Tell Dad, Grainger will put the boat in the water next week. He wants to know if he should keep her on one of his moorings or the club’s.” It seemed imperative that she say Grainger’s name aloud, to counterbalance the feelings of loss. She hadn’t lost Grainger; she’d found him. Or maybe he’d found her. Kiley smiled reflexively. Though she was going home tomorrow, he would never be farther away than a phone call. Never again.

Will moved a line of cards onto a newly revealed king.

“We have an early day tomorrow, so don’t be out too late.”

“Mom, it’s our last night together. Don’t make me stick to a kid’s curfew.”

“I’m only saying be realistic. I want to leave by noon, and if I have to fight to wake you up, we’ll never get out of here.” She didn’t mention Grainger’s coming to breakfast, because she wanted to see the pleased surprise on Will’s face when he saw the two of them together.

Will’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “All right by me.”

Kiley rubbed her hair briskly with the towel. “The idyll has to end sometime. There’s the memorial service, and then I have interviews this coming week. Vacation’s over, kiddo.”

Will sat back in the ladder-back chair and began to scoop the cards into a pile. A growing cloud of emotion tensed his mouth and jittered his fingers as he tried to gather the cards into a block.

“What is it, Will?”

“Do you really have to sell the place? I can go to the financial aid office and beg for more money. I can say you’re not going to support me. They’ll have to give me more money.”

“Will, this isn’t my decision. It’s Nana and Pop’s.”

Will slammed the deck of cards down on the table, scattering them. “It is too your decision. You decided not to ever come back, and then you did, and now you’re going to take it away from me.” He slammed out of the room, leaving Kiley to wish for the millionth time that she had someone to back up her decisions, or talk her out of them. Someone to share the responsibility, someone else to occasionally be the bad guy.

It would be easier to think he was mad about having to leave Catherine, but Kiley knew that wasn’t the root. He’d be able to keep the romance going through phone calls and e-mails until they got to school. Then they could hook up again in Ithaca.

Something else was frustrating him. Grainger Egan? Will had grown fond of him; that was obvious from his excited conversation about their every inch of scraped paint. Fond and aware of this man as someone that, blood or not, he was intimately connected to.

That made it doubly difficult to negotiate the hazards of a renewed relationship. It was so tempting to say to hell with it, and plunge headlong into what their bodies so obviously desired. But would it fortify their relationship to announce it boldly, or undermine it, like a waterfront house built on sand? They had to build their own trust, before earning Will’s.

Having brought nothing from home to wear to an event like the benefit auction, Kiley had dashed into Great Harbor this afternoon, heading straight for T.J.Maxx and Catherine’s advice. Her new persimmon red slip dress was hanging in the steam of the bathroom, to smooth out and remove the scent of the store. Catherine had talked her into buying new strappy sandals to wear with it and a choker of faux pearls. They’d forgotten earrings, so Kiley put in the plain gold hoops she wore every day.

She looked at herself in the mirror. What was she thinking? She looked like she was going on a date. It promised to be a long, awkward evening of explaining the sale of the house to the curious auction goers. Struggling to fasten the skinny straps of her new sandals, Kiley decided that as soon as she could, she’d beg off and head home. She should probably bring her sneakers with her so that she could walk. Capitulating to Toby’s insistence he bring her meant she’d either have to ask him to leave early, or walk home.

“You look great, Mom.” Will leaned against the doorway of his room. “I’m sorry I got mad.”

“Thanks. And I still want you in by one.”

Will was obviously disappointed that his apology hadn’t won him any points, and he went back into his room to flop on the bed, making the bedsprings sing out in protest.

“Oh, and have everything you can packed tonight before you go out.” Kiley leaned into the room.

Will made a grunt of acquiescence without looking at her.

“Have a nice time.”

Another grunt.

“And be careful.”

“You, too.”

“Funny boy.”

Kiley heard Toby’s step on the front porch, and started down the stairs. Before she got to the end of them, Will caught up with her. In an uncharacteristic physical show of apology, he kissed her.

“I’m sorry, Mom. Go have fun. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m sure some of it will be fun.” There was something in Will’s overture that eluded Kiley, some motive, but Toby had let himself in the front door like a friend instead of a date, drawing her attention away from Will.