at how he’d barged out onto the porch earlier that evening, for example. The memory boiled out of the mud in her head, and she groaned.
She tried her mouth again, and this time it worked a little better. “I’ve got to shower. I’ll never wake up, Timmy, if I don’t get a shower.”
“I’ll get the shower going, so the water’s nice and hot for you,” he crooned, and her bed bounced as he leaped up to lope away.
He was so excited. Mary sat up, stretched, and yawned so hard it felt like her jaw cracked. Last year Tim had gone to the fireworks celebration with his best friend’s family, but this year the Thompsons were on vacation in Florida, and he had nobody else to go with but her. And he was too young to go by himself.
Tim bounced back into her bedroom. “It’s ready! And Victor’s going to be here in half an hour.”
She winced at his too-loud voice. “Okay, Tim. Thank you. Go on now, let me get ready—and remember, we’re only going to stay until midnight. Victor’s only had a nap, and mine wasn’t long enough—”
“I know, I know,” he interrupted. “A couple of hours’ll be great. Just get moving, or we’ll miss the beginning.”
He left, and Mary shuffled around her large, comfortable bedroom, feeling like an old woman. Rescue workers could go weeks on five-minute naps every three or four hours—she could surely make it through the evening after her hour nap. After several minutes in a refreshing cool shower, she was feeling more like herself again. It wouldn’t be for long, and it was going to be—fun.
As a graduation present from her grandfather, Mary’d had her bathroom and bedroom redecorated. She stepped out of the shower into a pretty collection of greens and peaches. She quickly made up her face, applying blusher, eye shadow and mascara lightly, and then she dithered over which perfume she wanted to use.
Why are you going to so much trouble? she asked herself suddenly. She stared hard at her bright-eyed reflection. Victor’s seen you at your worst many times.
You know why, Mary, and it’s not for Victor.
It was because of that kiss, because of a “maybe see you later” kind of arrangement with a man you hardly know, a man who’s way out of your league, you’ve admitted that much. A man probably just playing around—what if he kisses everybody like that? A man who is just—flirting.
And what’s more, if you’d had your wits about you earlier when you had Victor on the phone, you would have called off the evening with him and gone ahead to the fireworks with Tim. Alone.
Have you gone insane?
The lecture wasn’t working. No matter how sternly she talked to herself, the excited young woman in the mirror didn’t calm down. She selected at random a perfume bottle from her collection on a nearby shelf, and sprayed some on her neck and wrists. Then she waltzed into her bedroom, humming—what to wear? Oh, a soft, flowered linen skirt with a matching rose sleeveless top, delicate sandals and a plain gold necklace. And the hair, oh, leave it loose and fluff it out, all nice and pretty, there.
You should be wearing shorts, fool.
I don’t care, I don’t care.
What if he’s not there? She stopped in midwaltz and her shoulders drooped. Two long hours, and Victor’s going to think you dressed up for him. Oh my. Both hands crept up to her face. And what if he wants to kiss you?
Tim. Tim will be there. Victor wouldn’t want to embarrass him. That’ll be all right.
What if he does show up? She started to dance again, then stopped dead in her tracks.
How are you going to explain Chance to Victor, Mary? How are you going to explain Victor to Chance?
She caught sight of another reflection from the full-length closet mirror, and she scowled. How, in God’s name, did a shy, gawky thing like you find herself in the middle of such a soap opera?
Off in the distance, she heard the front doorbell ring. Victor had arrived.
What are you going to do now, Mary?
CHERRY Bay’s annual Fourth of July celebration was held at the old lighthouse, which was on a promontory of land that had been established as a local park some years ago. Volunteer firemen were in charge of the fireworks display that was set off from the point. The nearby beach was crowded with both natives and tourists alike, and food and drink vendors dotted the area with striped canvas canopies. Music from a local band blared from the loudspeakers near the whitewashed stone lighthouse, and the smell of hot dogs and the pastry called fried elephant ears filled the air.
Tim appeared not to notice the taut atmosphere that filled the interior of Victor’s Volvo on the trip to the lighthouse, but Mary did. Back at the house, she had met Victor at the door; he was dressed in crisp linen slacks and a white shirt. She’d looked up into his cold eyes and tight features and felt her stomach sink to her shoes.
When Tim had come to the porch to interrupt Chance and Mary, he had left the phone off the hook in the front hall. How much of what had gone on outside had Victor overheard? Could he have heard anything at all? Could his tight expression just possibly be related to seeing her walk out of the hospital earlier that day with a strange man? What did she dare hope for?
With the strong instinct that she was making a mistake, Mary had gone to say goodbye to her grandfather Wallis, who was comfortably ensconced in the library with an old friend of his, drinking brandy and playing a game of chess.
“Good night, Grampa,” she whispered as she kissed him.
A tall, thin man in his eighties with a leonine head of thick, white, wavy hair, Wallis Newman was a gruff man who had a reputation for being terrifying with local politicians and dignitaries. Mary never understood that. Wallis reached up to pat her cheek, his fierce gaze softening into tenderness.
“Have a good time, kiddo. I won’t wait up.”
I want to stay home with you, Grampa, she thought. She glanced toward the hallway and sighed. Victor and Tim were waiting. She threw her arms around her grandfather’s neck, hugged him swiftly, and left.
Now Victor pulled the car into a parking space, and Mary scrambled out thankfully. The parking-lot lamps washed the scene in harsh white illumination and sharp shadows. In the distance, she could see the warmer glow from flickering beach fires and the tiny pinpoints of colored lights strung in the trees and bushes that clustered around the lighthouse.
Tim bounced out happily. Victor locked the car and straightened, his movements slow and deliberate. Mary felt the skin around her eyes tighten as he glanced at her briefly. Then Tim loped around the car, planted a smacking kiss on her forehead so hard he almost knocked her over, and said, “I’m going to get in line for some food. Meet you on the beach?”
“All right,” she sighed, and she forlornly watched him dash away. There goes my chaperon and bodyguard.
Victor curled a hand around her upper arm, and she looked up with a start, then tried to smile. The effort was not returned. “I want to talk to you,” he said tersely.
As if on cue, the first round of fireworks exploded overhead with a rolling boom like thunder, and Victor’s marble-carved features were washed in red and blue.
This was worse than a mistake, she thought, as she glanced again at the crowd on the beach. This was more like disastrous stupidity. There was no way they were going to run into Chance, and Victor was obviously upset, and she didn’t have the energy to explain anything to him. Even if she’d known how to explain it.
Then a small seed of resentment bloomed. She shouldn’t have to explain anything. They may have dated for a few years, but they hadn’t even come to any kind of formal agreement. She never asked