The Beach House by Georgia Bockoven Page A

fantasy had let him down, he went back in the house.
    After the enormous lunch he’d eaten, he wasn’t hungry, but he strayed to the kitchen and started going through the cupboards. He found a bag of Oreos and was in the process of twisting one apart when his mother came in the front door.
    â€œYou’re home,” she said as he came out of the kitchen.
    â€œI got here about ten minutes ago. Where is everybody?” She had on a pair of shorts over her swimming suit but didn’t look as if she’d been in the water.
    â€œYou mean everyone else?” she chided gently. “They went shopping. Tracy wanted to get something new to wear tonight.”
    Chris caught a note of disapproval, unusual for his mother. “I’m glad they’re not here,” he said, surprised that he meant it. “Wait till you hear where I’ve been today. It’s so cool, Mom. You’re not going to believe it.”
    She smiled at his enthusiasm. “So tell me.”
    He did, and just as he knew she would, she asked the right questions and showed the right amount of excitement.
    â€œYou had no idea who he was?” Margaret asked when he’d finished.
    â€œNone. I had the whole bunch of them pegged for construction workers.”
    â€œEric told me they were shooting a movie in Watsonville. But who would have thought a movie star would be out on the beach playing volleyball like everyone else.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t recognize him if you saw him. He’s got long hair and always has on sunglasses and a hat.”
    She reached up and affectionately lifted his hair off his forehead and combed it back with her fingers. “Antonio Gallardo could look the exact way he did in his last movie and you still wouldn’t have recognized him.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œYou’re the least starstruck person I know.”
    On impulse he asked, “You want to come to the party with me tonight?”
    â€œThanks, but I have a date.”
    â€œWith Eric?”
    Her eyes widened in genuine surprise. “Whatever made you think that?”
    â€œI dunno, he’s single, you’re single. You’re both about the same age. He seems like a nice guy, and you’re not bad yourself.”
    â€œHow could he resist, with all that going for me?”
    â€œWell?”
    â€œNo, I’m not going out with Eric. After we drop Tracy and Janice off at the boardwalk, Beverly and I are going to a movie.”
    â€œDoes Tracy know you’re taking the car?”
    â€œI figure that’s Beverly’s problem.”
    He nodded sagely. “Which is why you didn’t go shopping with them.”
    She laughed. “Sometimes you’re too smart for your own good.”
    â€œHey, do me a favor?”
    â€œYes?” Margaret said.
    â€œDon’t tell anyone about the movie thing, okay?”
    â€œWant to spring it on Tracy and Janice yourself?”
    Actually, he’d begun to wonder if he wanted to tell them about it at all. “I don’t like the idea of Tracy . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel right about it.”
    â€œShe’d be impressed,” Margaret said. “She might even want to go with you tonight after all.”
    â€œI know—that’s what I mean.”
    â€œNow I’m impressed.”
    â€œDon’t be. I could always change my mind.”
    Â 
    The battle over the car was still going on when Beverly and Tracy walked in the door an hour later. Janice slipped in behind them, passed through the living room with her head down, and disappeared into her and Tracy’s room. She came out a short time later carrying a towel and announced she was going for a swim.
    Margaret looked at Chris and said softly, “Why don’t you go with her?”
    He changed into his trunks and left. Tracy’s and Beverly’s raised voices followed him out the door.