and estuaries of the Georgian coast, north to Hilton Head or even as far as Jekyll Island, listening to the sound of the water and the squawking of the pelicans and egrets that circled overhead.
Today she had taken the boat down the Back River. There was much romance and adventure attached to this part of the world, which was one of the reasons why Jennifer loved it so much. It was said that the Spanish had come here looking for gold and instead had found a string of islands so beautiful they had called them the Golden Isles. Back River was also known as Moon River, after the song from her favourite movie, Breakfast at Tiffany’s . Local legend had it that the song’s lyricist, Johnny Mercer, had lived on its banks and it had inspired him. Today she had let the boat just drift with its open sails, her tape recorder blasting out the song. Once or twice, an image of Jim Johnson strumming away on his guitar had popped into her mind, but she had successfully stamped it out and instead concentrated not on the romance of the song but on the sense of adventure contained within the lyrics: two drifters, off to see the world .
She thought about sailing to Casa D’Or but decided against it. Docking back at the marina, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. It was a hot day; she could feel sweat dripping down her temple and her stash of soda had been depleted. She squinted in the bright light, and when her vision refocused, she could see Connor standing on the pontoon, one hand thrust in the pocket of his chinos, the other shielding his face from the bright early-afternoon sun.
Her heart sank and she knew it wasn’t the disappointment of being back on dry land. They hadn’t spoken since the night before, when she had walked out of Jeanne’s party, and she knew it was not the sort of behaviour he would take well.
‘Hi,’ she said, tying up the boat and not looking at him.
‘Here, let me help,’ he said, which surprised her.
He took her hand as she stepped off the boat. They stood there for a moment, not speaking.
‘I’m sorry about last night,’ she said eventually. She didn’t particularly want to apologise, but it seemed the natural thing to do.
‘I’m sorry too,’ he said, trying to catch her gaze.
‘You’re sorry?’ She smiled slowly, aware that she was teasing him.
‘I was rude about your friends. I shouldn’t have been. And I know you don’t like Randy. We didn’t have to go to his drinks, but you should have told me you were leaving. I was worried about you running off like that.’
She looked at him, expecting his voice to have a hectoring note of disapproval, but instead she heard genuine concern.
‘I’m going to have to call you my runaway girl,’ he added, teasing her.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, feeling everything soften.
‘Looking for you.’
He said it with such honesty that she felt a sudden pang of affection for him.
‘Want a ride home?’
‘I’ve got my bicycle.’
‘We can come back for it later. Come on, let me take you for lunch.’
They drove into the city, and it was such a hot day that Connor suggested somewhere by the water. They headed to River Street, past the old cotton mills and the paddle steamers moored at the dock, and found a diner that served jambalaya and key lime pie. Jennifer wasn’t sure that the two dishes went together, but the morning’s sailing had made her ravenous.
Connor was solicitous from the moment they had got into his sports car to sitting down for lunch, deferring to her choice on everything from restaurant to aperitif. She thought it distinctly out of character but found herself enjoying the afternoon and his company.
‘I’ve written a letter to your parents apologising for the business with the gallery,’ said Jennifer, wanting to clear some of the awkward stuff out of the way.
‘My dad didn’t become successful wasting his time on things that weren’t going to materialise into anything,’ said Connor
Today she had taken the boat down the Back River. There was much romance and adventure attached to this part of the world, which was one of the reasons why Jennifer loved it so much. It was said that the Spanish had come here looking for gold and instead had found a string of islands so beautiful they had called them the Golden Isles. Back River was also known as Moon River, after the song from her favourite movie, Breakfast at Tiffany’s . Local legend had it that the song’s lyricist, Johnny Mercer, had lived on its banks and it had inspired him. Today she had let the boat just drift with its open sails, her tape recorder blasting out the song. Once or twice, an image of Jim Johnson strumming away on his guitar had popped into her mind, but she had successfully stamped it out and instead concentrated not on the romance of the song but on the sense of adventure contained within the lyrics: two drifters, off to see the world .
She thought about sailing to Casa D’Or but decided against it. Docking back at the marina, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. It was a hot day; she could feel sweat dripping down her temple and her stash of soda had been depleted. She squinted in the bright light, and when her vision refocused, she could see Connor standing on the pontoon, one hand thrust in the pocket of his chinos, the other shielding his face from the bright early-afternoon sun.
Her heart sank and she knew it wasn’t the disappointment of being back on dry land. They hadn’t spoken since the night before, when she had walked out of Jeanne’s party, and she knew it was not the sort of behaviour he would take well.
‘Hi,’ she said, tying up the boat and not looking at him.
‘Here, let me help,’ he said, which surprised her.
He took her hand as she stepped off the boat. They stood there for a moment, not speaking.
‘I’m sorry about last night,’ she said eventually. She didn’t particularly want to apologise, but it seemed the natural thing to do.
‘I’m sorry too,’ he said, trying to catch her gaze.
‘You’re sorry?’ She smiled slowly, aware that she was teasing him.
‘I was rude about your friends. I shouldn’t have been. And I know you don’t like Randy. We didn’t have to go to his drinks, but you should have told me you were leaving. I was worried about you running off like that.’
She looked at him, expecting his voice to have a hectoring note of disapproval, but instead she heard genuine concern.
‘I’m going to have to call you my runaway girl,’ he added, teasing her.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, feeling everything soften.
‘Looking for you.’
He said it with such honesty that she felt a sudden pang of affection for him.
‘Want a ride home?’
‘I’ve got my bicycle.’
‘We can come back for it later. Come on, let me take you for lunch.’
They drove into the city, and it was such a hot day that Connor suggested somewhere by the water. They headed to River Street, past the old cotton mills and the paddle steamers moored at the dock, and found a diner that served jambalaya and key lime pie. Jennifer wasn’t sure that the two dishes went together, but the morning’s sailing had made her ravenous.
Connor was solicitous from the moment they had got into his sports car to sitting down for lunch, deferring to her choice on everything from restaurant to aperitif. She thought it distinctly out of character but found herself enjoying the afternoon and his company.
‘I’ve written a letter to your parents apologising for the business with the gallery,’ said Jennifer, wanting to clear some of the awkward stuff out of the way.
‘My dad didn’t become successful wasting his time on things that weren’t going to materialise into anything,’ said Connor
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