Driftwood Point by Mariah Stewart

store?”
    â€œThanks, but I think I’d like to hang around here for a while. I thought I’d check up on Ruby’s old house.”
    â€œIt’s still standing.” He pointed to the brick house—little more than a cottage—that was fifty feet or so from where they stood. “Needs some work, hard to tell how much. But considering the age and the fact that it’s been uninhabited for . . . how many years, do you think?”
    Lis shook her head. “No idea. I’ll have to ask Gigi when she moved from here to the store.”
    He checked his watch, then said, “Well, be careful if you walk out on the pier. There’s a lot of rotted wood. There are a couple of whole sections that need to be replaced.”
    â€œI’ll tell Gigi. She should think about posting ‘No Trespassing’ signs, and she should probably get the pier fixed. It’s an attraction for the kids on the island, I would guess. Assuming there are still little kids on the island.”
    He started to walk toward his car, and without thinking, Lis fell in step with him.
    â€œNot too many little ones around here these days,” he told her. “Not that I’ve seen, anyway.”
    â€œOh? You spend a lot of time out here?” They’dalmost reached the Jeep, and she held back a few steps as he walked to it.
    â€œI spent a lot of time at Ruby’s.” He opened the car door, slid behind the wheel, then slammed the door. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, there are a lot of places on the island in need of repair.”
    â€œLucky for you, then, right? Lots of work to keep you busy when you’re not—” She stopped. She wasn’t sure what he did in his spare time.
    â€œWhen I’m not what? Conning old ladies out of their valuable property?”
    â€œNo, no,” she protested. “I wasn’t going to say that. Really.”
    â€œI’ll bet you were thinking it. Same thing.” He put the Jeep in reverse. “See you at the reception, if not sooner.”
    â€œWait, Alec, I . . .” She paused. “What reception?”
    â€œThe reception at the gallery before your showing. I hear it’s going to be a Big Event.” He turned the car around and passed her, not bothering to wave.
    Well, damn. Lis watched the Jeep disappear around the bend in the road and stood for a minute wondering what had just happened. She hadn’t been about to insult him. She hadn’t even been thinking it, but their earlier encounter that morning must have weighed heavily on his mind for him to have been so defensive.
    It occurred to her that she never did find out why he’d been there.
    She walked past the old house and out onto the pier, stepping over those spots where the wood had rotted, as Alec had warned. It really did need repair.She went all the way to the end, then sat cautiously, her feet not quite reaching the water. She scooched a little closer to the edge so that her toes were visible beneath the surface. There had been a thousand summer days like this one when she’d sat right here, looking out at the bay and wondering what was on the other side. She’d watch the boats come back in late in the afternoon, hoping that her father had had a good day with his traps. The later he pulled into the cove, the more doubtful it was that he’d found his traps filled. Some days she’d bring a sketch pad and draw what she saw on the bay—the boats with their sails filled with breeze, the gulls that followed the fishing boats, picking at the chum. Ospreys that dove headfirst into the water to do a little fishing of their own. That time in her life had its own flavor, colored by sunlight on the water and the shadows of the scrub pines.
    On her ninth birthday, Ruby had given her the first real art supplies she’d ever owned. There’d been a lidded basket filled with pads to sketch on and pads upon which