Life Guards in the Hamptons (6 page)

She had no choice when I thrust the Pomeranian into her arms. Little Red peed on her. I have to admit I thought he might. He did sometimes when he got mad enough at being manhandled. And when I squeezed him on the handover.

I
 HAD NO TIME FOR A SHOWER, but this wasn’t a date, right? I spritzed some perfume, walked the dogs in a baseball cap to flatten the curls, looked in the fridge to make a list, and left messages for my mother and father so they’d know where I was.

I called my grandmother on my cell from the car. I know I shouldn’t drive while distracted. I was afraid of getting a ticket or getting in an accident. I was terrified of hitting a deer.

I was more afraid of my grandmother. If she found out I’d arrived two doors down without calling until the next day, there’d be hell to pay. Susan undoubtedly told her as soon as she left my doorstep.

With luck, Grandma Eve would be busy browbeating the birdwatchers and I could leave a message. Yeah, and with luck I could win the lottery and move to the south of France. Not that I spoke French or knew anyone there, but that wasn’t the point.

Not only was my grandmother home, she had caller ID and knew my cell number.

No “Hello, who is this?” Just, “Well, it’s about time, but I suppose dogs come first, like they always do for your mother. Perhaps if she paid more attention to her own—”

“Little Red will be fine, thank you.”

After a few such pleasantries, I said I’d be by later. No, I didn’t need to come to her house for dinner. Yes, I
ate healthy meals in the city. I’d fetch something while I did errands in town. We were low on dog treats, I’d forgotten to pack deodorant, and Susan told me the porch light burned out yesterday but that there were no replacements in the utility closet. Grandma Eve wouldn’t want me coming home to darkness, would she? I doubted she’d care, except Susan stayed here, and my cousin got off work at the restaurant in the middle of the night.

“Susan said the dog was sick?”

“He’ll be all right. I thought it was chiggers, but Dr. Spenser says not.” Dr. Spenser, not Matt. I couldn’t afford to give her an opening.

“What about you? Jasmine said you called her about the parasites.”

“I have it under control now.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have told you what to do. Lord knows I treat everyone else in this town who’s foolish enough to go rambling in the weeds without long pants when it’s cool and damp.”

“I, ah, didn’t know I was coming out to the Harbor until the dog got sick, so I couldn’t fetch whatever you thought I needed.”

“It’s at every drugstore. Lice shampoo.”

Damn. “I know that now. I’ll see you later.”

I think she muttered, “It’s about time” again, then she told me to get off the phone and put both hands on the wheel.

“It’s okay. I’ve got Bluetooth.”

“I don’t care if you’ve got a gold tooth. It’s dangerous and stupid and rude. Besides, the sooner you finish your errands the sooner you can get here and do something about those dreadful ornithologists.”

I don’t know what she imagined I could do when no one else seemed to have an idea. At least she wasn’t blaming me for the onslaught of ecotourists. She did say she was glad I came.

She must be desperate.

Maybe I’d ask Matt what he thought could be done about the rare bird.

Or maybe Mrs. Terwilliger at the library had a book
on exotic South American species, what they ate, how long they lived, how far they traveled. Or a law book concerning private roads and trespassers.

We agreed to meet at the library steps. I saw him waiting at the top, so I drove past to find a parking spot where I could pull in. No way did I want to try parallel parking with him watching. Not that I lacked confidence, of course, or that it mattered what he thought. This still wasn’t a date.

He had a Giants sweatshirt on over his polo shirt, which made me wonder if he ever played football in high school or college. He was tall enough, at least six-two, I guessed, and broad. I knew he was strong from seeing him pick up Mom’s fat old retriever without effort. And his agility had shown when he rescued Red. Fit best described his physique, even in a baggy sweatshirt.

Fit and casual and unconcerned that I was late. Good, he didn’t treat this as a date, either.

So I could swallow my last breath mint, stop worrying I had hat hair instead of dandelion head, and hurry back to the library before he worried I wasn’t coming. I’d earned his doubts.

He smiled—in relief?—when I climbed the steps to where he waited, looking over the village green and the stores on either side. The church faced the library, actually the old school building, across the treed and grassy area in the middle.

“Looking good,” he said.

“The town square always looks nice in the fall, before the trees lose their leaves and the garden clubs’ flowers have all died.”

“I didn’t mean the village.” He didn’t wait to see if I blushed—I did, the plaguesome curse of fair skin—simply turned and held open the door to the library.

A couple of people sat at the computer desks, someone I didn’t recognize browsed the fiction stacks, and one of the high school girls earning public service credit wheeled around a cart full of books to be reshelved. Mrs. Terwilliger sat behind the front desk like the Queen of England surveying her kingdom. Lord knew Mrs. T was
nearly old enough to be Her Majesty’s mother. She’d been here forever, and always had a pile of books waiting for me. Sometimes they were books I’d requested; sometimes they were what Mrs. Terwilliger thought I needed to read. She was usually right. Uncanny, but not unusual for Paumanok Harbor.

“I’m looking for a book about the rare South American bird that’s—”

“Oh, no, dear, you want this one.”

The book she handed me had to do with mythical beasts.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not doing research for one of my books, just for what’s at Garland Farms.”

She took another off the stack clearly marked Willow Tate. This one had tropical fish on the cover.

“But I don’t—”

“You will.”

Oh, boy. No one argued with Mrs. Terwilliger, ever. Not unless they wanted their library card permanently lost. Besides, I didn’t want to make an issue of it in front of Matt, or draw attention to one of our town’s minor eccentricities. I took the books. The bestiary looked interesting, at least. The next one, by James Herriot, had always been a favorite of mine.

“I’m sure I read this years ago.”

“Yes, but this time you’ll have different eyes.”

Cryptic but pointed, definitely embarrassing, except that Matt was looking at the poster board to check upcoming events, talks, and movies.

The last book in my pile had a couple on the cover, in historical garb. Mrs. Terwilliger loved Regency romances and passed on her favorites to everyone. I enjoyed them when I had the time for pleasure reading. Not everyone gave them credit for being intelligent, well written, and entertaining, so I slipped it under the others before Matt could read the title,
The Bargain Bride
.

“It’s about compromising,” the white-haired librarian told me.

“A compromising situation?” That was a popular theme in historicals, when the couple was found in
flagrante delicto or merely kissing, and had to wed to save the woman’s reputation. As far from modern mores as it could get. Honor meant more then.

“No, just compromising. You might learn something.”

Another jab.

I stepped aside and Matt took my place. Clearly I was dismissed now that I had the books Mrs. T had selected for me. No matter that I really wanted one on Patagonia. I wandered toward the travel section. “Those are all out,” she called after me.

So I waited while she lifted an encyclopedia-sized tome for Matt, a technical book on heart disease in dogs.

“I got it through inter-library loan,” Mrs. Terwilliger told him. “I thought you’d like to see this before you spent a hundred and forty-five dollars on it.”

While he flipped the pages, she told me how her cousin’s dogs in Georgia had both died of congestive heart failure. “That’s not going to happen in Paumanok Harbor, not if I can help it.”

“Or I,” Matt said.

I looked at the other books the ruler of the library dispensed to Matt, curious as to his taste and the librarian’s opinions. The new Reacher mystery, two of my books, and
Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus
.

Now I was curious about Matt’s reaction. He laughed, said thank you, and we left. No comment that the librarian picked books for us. Not recommended, but selected, checked out to our names, and kept right by the desk as if she knew we’d be arriving. Both of us, which was far less likely since I’d had no plans to be in Paumanok Harbor until this morning.

“You don’t have to read my books, you know,” I told him when we went to put both sets of books into Matt’s car so we didn’t have to tote them around. “Mrs. T is always urging people to read local authors.”

“I asked her to save these two for me. They’ve been checked out for weeks. I’ve read all the rest.”

The writer in me couldn’t help wanting to know what he thought. The sniveling coward in me was afraid to ask.

I didn’t have to.

“I wouldn’t keep reading them if they weren’t fun and clever,” he offered. “I keep being amazed at your creativity and talent.”

Wow. And he liked dogs, too.

We headed for the hardware store.

I bought the yellow bug light for the front porch. Matt bought batteries. On our way out, Bill, the store’s owner, set the blanks at the key-making machine to playing “Getting to Know You,” from
The King and I
. Usually, no one but the locals—the talented locals—could make out the tune. Everyone else supposed the floor had shaken the keys to jangling, or the wind. When I visited as a kid from the big city, I thought a subway must run beneath the village main street. Funny how the mind rationalizes what it can’t explain. I guess I never recognized the songs.

Matt smiled as if he knew all the words.

At the drugstore, I got the medicated shampoo, after making certain Walter knew I had chiggers, not lice. At least chiggers weren’t contagious.

Matt bought Band-Aids. Occupational hazard, he told Walter. Trying not to be obvious about it, both of us peeked inside our bags as soon as we were out of the store, checking for condoms. I used to take it for granted that Walter simply believed in safe sex and gave them out to everyone. Nope. He put little tinfoil presents in the bags only when they’d be needed soon.

I was glad my bag had deodorant and lice shampoo, nothing else. I’d given up on men, or casual sex at least. I had scruples. And no rubbers in case I changed my mind.

Matt looked in his bag and stopped smiling.

We passed Big Eddie checking parking meters along Main Street. He was short for a police officer, but his nose made up for the lack of inches. He sniffed, then said, “Nice perfume, Willow. It almost covers up the smell of the bus exhaust and scared dog.”

He flared his nostrils at the air around Matt. “Lots of scared dogs, antiseptic, disinfectant, dog food, and cologne.
Good effort, both of you. Want to know what kind of perfume and cologne? I need the practice.”

“No, thanks.” I shook my head, confused that Big Eddie talked about his knack in public. He always let outside people think his German Shepherd, Ranger, had the nose to sniff out drugs, lost hikers, bombs, and dead bodies. I glanced at Matt.

“You missed the rabbit that came in this morning.”

“Oh, I figured that was the one living under the boxwoods around the library.”

How could Matt not think that peculiar? On top of the keys and the condoms and the library books? If I didn’t know better, I’d guess he knew something.

Joanne handed us to-go cups, without our placing an order. An iced tea for me, sweetened. Coffee, black, for Matt. Then we decided we might as well get sandwiches to eat on the park benches since the day stayed so pleasant.

Joanne asked if I wanted my veggie burger on a bun or a roll. Considering I’d only recently decided to be a vegetarian, Joanne had no way of predicting my choice. I’d never, ever ordered a veggie burger from the deli that made the best roast beef sandwiches anywhere.

“A roll is fine.”

Matt read the menu board. “I think I’ll have a—”

“Ham and Swiss on rye with mustard, no mayo.”

“Yup.”

No raised eyebrow, no questions about how she had one waiting for him.

He knew?

We had to walk past the barber shop on our way to the village green. Vincent, the barber, was out closing his awning. He smiled at me, pointed to Matt and gave a thumbs-up sign. “But … but that means …”

I couldn’t finish.

Matt did. “That I have an aura.”

How could he know? “Everyone has an aura. That’s what the television psychics say, anyway.”

“Yes, but Vincent only sees the auras of talent.”

“You are a good veterinarian.”

“Not that kind of talent. I’m trying to show you that I’ve changed. The town has changed. Thanks to you.”

“No way.” I dragged him around the corner to Kelvin’s garage. Kelvin’s son, K-2, had a bag of potato chips and his schoolbooks open in the little office. I pulled Matt right up to the kid’s chair. “He has talent.”