“Say no to hoochie shorts!” Sophie called after him.
He responded by letting the screen door slam shut behind him.
Though he absolutely detested the thought, he was going to have to clue Sophie in about Hanna. Otherwise he would never hear the end of it. It was funny, but he didn’t remember his sister being quite the Olympic nagger she had become. Perhaps marriage did that to women. He shuddered at the thought.
As he neared the back door of Uppercross, the sound of a familiar song floated out to meet him—one of those tunes that was overplayed on the radio. When the house came into view he saw Hanna there, her back to him as she leaned over a large notepad on her lap. On the little table next to her was an I-pod with portable speakers that blared the melody he’d just remembered the name of: “Someone Like You” by Adele. Derick wasn’t big on angst-ridden ballads, but he knew the gist of this one—some heartbroken wretch was pining for the love of her life, who had moved on.
Appropriate.
Derick considered going around to the front of the house and ringing the doorbell instead—at least that way he wouldn’t have to walk past Hanna to get inside. The thought was preposterous, calling up Derick’s first-grade year when he had taken the roundabout path to school to avoid the vicious dog on his normal route. He squared his shoulders, planning on walking right past her without a glance, without a word, without so much as a thought.
But then her head listed to the side as she held up the notepad, giving Derick an unobstructed view. On closer inspection he saw that it was a sketchpad. Her eyes kept darting up to the view before settling back on the picture she was drawing: the Lymelight. Where had she learned to draw? How long had she been doing it? He didn’t remember its being among her talents all those years ago. The thought made him feel somehow resentful.
Hanna’s ashy blond hair was piled on top of her head, and sunlight bathed her in gold. An image of a Greek goddess came to mind, but Derick batted it away. Then she started singing along to the music, and he found that he couldn’t move.
Her voice was soft and clear, with just a hint of vibrato. He didn’t remember her singing before, either. What else did he not know about her? He found himself shoving his hands in his pockets, leaning up against the side of the house, and listening.
“Hey!” came a bubbly shout a couple minutes later—Ella coming out the back door.
Hanna pivoted with a partial smile, assuming that Ella addressed her—and froze when she found Derick watching her. She turned back to her sketch, her shoulders hunching over as if she was trying to roll herself into a ball. Though Derick could only see the side of her face, he noted the furious red flush spreading over her skin.
At least one thing hadn’t changed.
“When did you get here?” Ella asked, sidling up to him.
“Not long,” he answered, tearing his eyes from Hanna and focusing on the reason he’d come in the first place.
“You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Derick replied, rewarded by Ella’s beaming at him. The weight that had settled on his shoulders this morning during Sophie’s pep talk suddenly lifted, taking flight and evaporating into the atmosphere as they made their way downtown. Rag doll or not, Derick couldn’t imagine anyone else he’d rather be with at the moment.
TEN
KITES and CONES
“He saw you then at Lyme, and liked you so well as to be exceedingly pleased to meet with you again . . .”
—Mrs. Smith, Persuasion
It took Hanna a good while to recover from the shock and mortification of finding Derick listening to her sing. She didn’t know how much of the song he’d caught—she couldn’t tell from his expression or his posture if he’d just arrived, or if he’d been a silent audience for most of it.
The broken chords of “Someone Like You” had snagged Hanna’s attention right off. Admittedly, she often thought of Derick whenever she heard the song—now more than ever because the words were a perfect fit. She hoped with all her heart that Derick hadn’t seen any personal meaning in the song. It would not do for him to believe she was still mourning him after all this time.
Because she wasn’t. At all.
Upon learning of Derick and Ella’s plans that morning, Charles and Mary decided to go out for breakfast downtown—presumably hoping to run into them. So Hanna offered to keep the boys. She couldn’t help but wonder if Charles and Mary weren’t a bit starstruck with Derick. Being the avid sports fan that her brother-in-law was, he had obviously recognized Derick right off, but aside from being generally in awe of his very existence, Charles hadn’t mentioned his knowledge of Derick’s identity.
Needing a distraction, Hanna asked the boys if they wanted to walk down and see the Lymelight—the lighthouse that guarded the entrance to Old Lyme Harbor. CJ agreed, only on condition that they could take their kite and find a good windy spot to fly it. After greasing the boys with SPF 80 sunscreen and donning a hat herself, Hanna set off down the beach with her nephews in tow.
The trek to the breakwater was uneventful; CJ filled Walter’s head with all sorts of piratesque adventures they might have in the lighthouse. More than once Hanna had to explain that no one was actually allowed inside the structure, that it had been closed to the public for years. And as the Lymelight sat at the end of an arm of stone that arced into the treacherous sea, reaching it—at least with a six- and two-year-old in tow—would be a bad idea, if nearly impossible.
It was a good thing they’d brought the kite. An object so far out of reach as the Lymelight could hardly keep the attention of her nephews for long. But on opening the kite and attempting to assemble it, Hanna found herself vastly underqualified for the task. The kite in question wasn’t the average two-sticks-on-the-back creation, but seemed to have a network of supports that had to be carefully assembled to make it work. Hanna had been struggling with it for a good twenty minutes when a bystander approached her.
“Excuse me,” he said with a tentative smile, “I couldn’t help but notice you’re having trouble with your kite. Would you mind if I take a look?”
The first thing Hanna noticed was his ready smile, the second was his dark, curly hair and the exactly matching shade of his eyes. He had an expensive-looking camera around his neck, but he was barefoot and wore faded jeans and a T-shirt.
Blinking out of her stupor, Hanna said, “Yes, thank you,” and handed him the instructions.
Taking them from her, he studied them for a minute and then nodded sagely. “This model was actually recalled a while ago . . . the instructions are faulty, as I think you’ve discovered.”
While the accommodating newcomer deftly assembled the kite, relocating several of the sticks, Hanna gave CJ a look as if to say, See? It wasn’t my fault!
“Here you go!” the stranger said, holding the kite up for inspection. The boys whooped, and CJ lost no time in running off and trying to launch it.
Hanna turned to her savior. “That was impressive. Are you a kite expert or something?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I worked at a hobby shop all through high school and college—we saw our fair share of kites.”
“I see,” Hanna said, distracted by his straight white teeth, tanned skin, and friendly manner. She felt herself blush at her unspoken musings. “Are you a photographer?” she asked, nodding to the camera.
“Guilty,” he said with another charming smile. “I’m doing a piece on New England harbors.”
Hanna would’ve loved to hear more about it, but her nephews were getting beyond impatient for the kite’s maiden voyage and were having no luck on their own. The helpful outsider chuckled jovially at the boys and then said, “I’d better let you go. Hope the kite works out for you.”
“Thanks so much for your help,” Hanna answered before turning her attention to the task at hand. The photographer withdrew a little and busied himself with snapping pictures of the harbor.
The kite had been a great backup plan, but the wind certainly wasn’t
in much of an obliging mood. They tried to get the poor thing aloft for the better part of half an hour before CJ finally growled in frustration.
“This kite doesn’t work, Banana!”
“There’s not enough wind,” she corrected. She thought quickly, trying to salvage the outing. “How about we walk down to the harbor and look around? I bet we could find some ice cream.”
CJ brightened on the spot. “Yeah! Let’s go see the Laconia!”
Ugh. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? Of course Derick’s sailboat was moored at Old Lyme Harbor, but the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.
“Pleeeeaaaase, Banana? Derick won’t mind.”
“Dick!” Walter echoed.
Hanna cringed, but was too caught up in her own thoughts to correct Walter. Chances were that they wouldn’t be able to locate Derick’s boat anyway, since there were so many. And a walk would certainly do the job of exhausting her nephews.
“Okay,” she finally relented with a sigh. “Let’s reel in the string first.”
“Yes!” CJ hollered, running off to do as he was told.
“No luck then?” came an inquiry from the photographer.
“Not enough wind,” Hanna answered with a smile. “Murphy’s law.”
“That Murphy is always up to no good, isn’t he?”
Hanna blushed just a bit. This good-looking stranger was flirting with her. Flirting. With her. Though she couldn’t account for it, she liked the idea. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked twice at her.
“It’s nothing a little ice cream won’t cure,” she assured him. “We were hoping they had some down at the marina.”
“They do. I was just about to head down myself to get some close-ups of the boats. Would it be weird if I walked with you?”
“Not at all,” she said, hoping that her skin wouldn’t betray her flush of pleasure at the idea.
He beamed. “My name is Eli,” he offered, thrusting out a hand.
“Hanna,” she answered, taking it.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said. “It would have been really awkward if your name was Banana.”
Hanna laughed. “My nephew couldn’t say Hanna when he was little, and it just kind of stuck.”
The boys had done their best to wind the kite string back up though on completion of the task the spool looked more like an unraveled ball of yarn.
“So, Eli, are you here for the summer?” Hanna ventured as they began walking toward the marina.
“This is home for the time being . . . I travel a lot with my job. What about you?”
“I came to spend the summer with family,” Hanna said, keeping her answer just as vague as his.
“So where is home, then?”
“Harbor, Oregon. It’s close to Brookings—just a few miles from the California border.”
“Ah. I love the northwest. Oregon has some of the best rocky beaches in the U.S.”
“It does,” she concurred with a smile. “You wouldn’t think the scenery would vary much from coast to coast, but it does.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“So . . . what are the other stops on your tour?”
Eli looked confused, and Hanna clarified, “New England harbors?”
“Oh, right,” he said, shaking his head as he laughed at himself. “I’m not sure yet. I kind of decided to just start here and work my way up the coast.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
They were at the marina now, and Eli turned to Hanna. “What was the name of the boat you were looking for again?”
“Laconia,” she answered, relieved that her voice didn’t crack on the name.
“Captain Wentworth’s boat,” CJ put in helpfully.
“Is it?” Eli asked, feigning more interest than he probably felt for CJ’s sake.
“Yup,” CJ answered. “He’s gonna teach me to sail it too.”
“Lucky you,” Eli said, exchanging a look with Hanna. “Do you remember where the boat was before?”
CJ’s face scrunched up as he tried to recall. “This way!” he declared, shooting off like a rocket.
Hanna picked up Walter, who would only fall trying to keep pace with his brother, and the adults trailed at a slower pace.
After snapping a few pictures of surrounding boats, Eli said, “So these energetic little guys are your nephews, I take it?” There was something in his voice that Hanna couldn’t name, but she sensed there was more to the question.
“Yeah, my sister’s kids.”
“It must be nice spending the summer with family . . .”
“It’s a good break from my job,” Hanna qualified. “What about your family?”
“I don’t see much of them,” Eli said, then continued when Hanna gave him a questioning look. “I come from a long line of doctors and lawyers . . . let’s just say they weren’t keen on my career choice.”
“I didn’t mean to pry,” Hanna began, but Eli waved her off.
“It’s okay, you didn’t. If anyone’s prying, it’s me.” He smiled over at her, then added, “I just figured I should make sure these weren’t your kids before we went any further.”
So Hanna had been right, and there was more to his questioning. The realization didn’t make his curiosity intrusive, but flattering.
“I’m single and childless too, just in case you were wondering,” Eli added without looking at her. “And if you weren’t wondering, then just forget I said that.”
Hanna laughed without restraint, and it felt amazing. Since Derick had made his appearance on the beach that first day, Hanna hadn’t felt much in the way of happiness.
They followed CJ down dock after dock, to no avail. When Walter’s head began drooping on his aunt’s shoulder and CJ had lost his enthusiasm for the hunt, Hanna suggested they see about the promised ice cream.
“We’d love you to join us, Eli,” she ventured. “My treat.”
“Of course I’ll come with, but you don’t need to pay.”
“Please, I want to. It’s the least I can do since you fixed the kite.”
Eli considered her through narrowed eyes. “Well, when you put it like that . . .”
“I do,” Hanna insisted, veering off toward the marina store.
The marina’s chocolate/vanilla twist cones were taller than any ice cream cone should be. The boys got more ice cream on their faces and clothes than in their mouths. Grateful that she had thought to put baby wipes in the beach bag she’d brought along, Hanna cleaned the boys up and then turned to Eli.
“We should probably head back home,” she said regretfully. “You do not want to be around when Walter’s nap is delayed.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Eli chuckled. “Nice to meet you, Hanna. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”
“Maybe,” Hanna said, feeling more than a little hopeful. “Thanks again, Eli. Good luck with your photos.”
He nodded, gave her one last winning smile, and then went back outside and began snapping pictures of the boats again.
The walk back to Uppercross wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as it should have been with two exhausted kids—the sun seemed brighter, the water clearer, and the sky bluer.
Maybe her fantasy summer—the one she’d given up on when Derick Wentworth entered the picture—wasn’t so out of reach after all.
ELEVEN
MORTIFIED and MUMMIFIED
Anne hoped she had outlived the age of blushing; but the age of emotion she certainly had not.
—Jane Austen, Persuasion
No sooner had Hanna come through the front door of Uppercross than Mary met her in the entry with a stressed look.
“Where have you been? I was worried sick!”
“I took the boys down to the harbor,” Hanna answered. “Sorry, Mare, I didn’t think to text you.”
Mary took Walter out of his aunt’s arms. “It’s okay, Hanna. It looks like this guy is ready for his nap,” she said, taking him upstairs. “I’ll be right back.”
>
“Banana, can I play the Wii?” CJ asked.
“Go ask your dad,” Hanna answered as she followed him into the kitchen, removed her hat, and tossed it onto the counter. CJ, evidently spying his dad through the back door, bolted out onto the sand. Ella sat at the kitchen table painting her fingernails.
“Isn’t it a gorgeous day?” Hanna said as she poured herself a glass of lemonade from the fridge and sat down at the table.
Ella watched her for a moment, a hesitant smile lighting her face. “I guess. Where have you been?”
“Flying kites and getting ice cream cones.”
“It looks like you finally got some sun.”
Hanna touched a hand to her cheek, not minding if Ella attributed her color to a sunburn.
“Okay, out with it,” Ella said. “You’re grinning like an idiot.”
Hanna’s lips twitched in a condemning sort of way before she could help it. Taking a deep breath, she said carefully, “I met somebody today.”
Ella sat up as if she’d been electrocuted. “Somebody? Like, a guy?”
Hanna nodded, biting her lip to hinder yet another telling, dumbfounded smile.
“Ooooooh, is he cute?”
After a pause, Hanna relented. “He’s really good-looking.”
Squealing like a schoolgirl, Ella clapped her hands and leaned forward. “What does he look like?”
“He has curly hair and dark eyes and dimples . . .”
Ella clapped a hand over her mouth, but the questions continued. “How did you meet him?”
“I was trying to put that stupid kite together, and he was taking pictures close by. He saw me struggling and offered to help.”
“Oh, that is soooooo cute,” Ella whined just as CJ came through the door and plopped in front of the TV. He was followed by his father, and to Hanna’s horror, Derick.
“What’s all the squawking about?” Charles asked.
“Hanna met a guy today!” Ella informed the whole room.
Persuaded Page 6
