she’d been trying to read for
the past fifteen minutes. This was becoming a habit. Giving up, she tossed
the magazine to the end table and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the
back of her hand. This heat wave was just another thing to add to the list of
things starting to bug her.
Why had she
left Devin's so quickly? She sighed heavily. Because every time he looked at
her she wanted to fall into his arms and not let go. She wanted to be with
him. But she couldn't stand the feelings she was having for him, so she took
the coward’s way out and left.
Now she was
just plain bored and wished she was back at Devin's cottage with him. She'd
already gone into the den twice in the last hour to see if Roger was done
working and got the non-committal “almost”. She'd be damned if she'd interrupt
him again.
It had been a
bad idea to invite Roger, she decided as she plopped down on the back stairs,
arching her back to pull out the kinks. The sun was sinking in the horizon,
giving a milky film to the water and an amber color to the sky. At least there
was an occasional breeze to salve the heat and humidity. She only wished she could
find something that would salve her own unrest.
The slap of the
screen door against the wooden frame jarred her and caused her to turn around.
“Hi, Ma,” she said, slightly annoyed that it wasn't Roger.
Ruthie blotted
the sweat from her neck with a white dishtowel. “Are you still hungry, dear?”
“We just
finished dinner an hour ago.”
“I know, but
I’m in the mood for some fried clams?”
A half hour
later Cara stood by the takeout window of the Whaler’s Inn. The smell of fried
seafood filled her head immediately. She wasn’t hungry, but she needed to get
out of the house and stretch. Anything was better than sitting at home,
brooding.
Stuffing the
change the waiter had just given her into her pocket, she clutched the bag of
fried clams and turned to leave. As she walked over the pavement, the sound of
her white flip-flop sandals slapping the soles of her feet entranced her until
she heard a familiar low rumbling laugh.
Her heart
pounded in her chest. It could be anyone. But no, she knew the sound of that
laugh. She plopped the bag of takeout on the hood of her car and spun around,
scanning the parking lot to see if it was actually Devin. And then she
recognized him, sitting at a table on the back porch of the restaurant. Her
heart lifted until she saw the tall, leggy, blond wearing a white mini-dress
seated practically in his lap.
Penny Brunelle
hadn’t changed much. Married three times already since high school, she’d made
a career out of arranging weddings for herself as well as others. Now what was
she doing with Devin?
Cara bit down
on her bottom lip. She didn’t want to know.
If you have any
sense at all, Cara, you’ll get in the car and drive away before they notice
you. What business was it of hers that Devin had a date? So he’d come to
Westport for her birthday party, but that didn’t mean he had to stay in her
back pocket the whole time. She clenched her teeth as she watched Penny trying
to climb into his.
Although from
the several rows of cars that sat between them she couldn’t hear a single word
they were speaking, Cara suddenly felt like she was eavesdropping on Devin's
private conversation with Penny. She did hear all the bells and whistles Penny
was clanging to attract Devin’s attention.
She watched as
Penny stood up, pulling Devin to a stand, and wrapped her arms around his
waist, gyrating her hips as she moved. It became a conscious effort for Cara
to keep her fingernails from breaking skin on the inside of her palms.
And to
breathe. She needed to breathe. Forcing a lung full of air into her chest,
she yanked the car door open. They were going to kiss and Cara did not want to
be around to see it. She’d already gotten a bigger eyeful than she wanted
the past fifteen minutes. This was becoming a habit. Giving up, she tossed
the magazine to the end table and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the
back of her hand. This heat wave was just another thing to add to the list of
things starting to bug her.
Why had she
left Devin's so quickly? She sighed heavily. Because every time he looked at
her she wanted to fall into his arms and not let go. She wanted to be with
him. But she couldn't stand the feelings she was having for him, so she took
the coward’s way out and left.
Now she was
just plain bored and wished she was back at Devin's cottage with him. She'd
already gone into the den twice in the last hour to see if Roger was done
working and got the non-committal “almost”. She'd be damned if she'd interrupt
him again.
It had been a
bad idea to invite Roger, she decided as she plopped down on the back stairs,
arching her back to pull out the kinks. The sun was sinking in the horizon,
giving a milky film to the water and an amber color to the sky. At least there
was an occasional breeze to salve the heat and humidity. She only wished she could
find something that would salve her own unrest.
The slap of the
screen door against the wooden frame jarred her and caused her to turn around.
“Hi, Ma,” she said, slightly annoyed that it wasn't Roger.
Ruthie blotted
the sweat from her neck with a white dishtowel. “Are you still hungry, dear?”
“We just
finished dinner an hour ago.”
“I know, but
I’m in the mood for some fried clams?”
A half hour
later Cara stood by the takeout window of the Whaler’s Inn. The smell of fried
seafood filled her head immediately. She wasn’t hungry, but she needed to get
out of the house and stretch. Anything was better than sitting at home,
brooding.
Stuffing the
change the waiter had just given her into her pocket, she clutched the bag of
fried clams and turned to leave. As she walked over the pavement, the sound of
her white flip-flop sandals slapping the soles of her feet entranced her until
she heard a familiar low rumbling laugh.
Her heart
pounded in her chest. It could be anyone. But no, she knew the sound of that
laugh. She plopped the bag of takeout on the hood of her car and spun around,
scanning the parking lot to see if it was actually Devin. And then she
recognized him, sitting at a table on the back porch of the restaurant. Her
heart lifted until she saw the tall, leggy, blond wearing a white mini-dress
seated practically in his lap.
Penny Brunelle
hadn’t changed much. Married three times already since high school, she’d made
a career out of arranging weddings for herself as well as others. Now what was
she doing with Devin?
Cara bit down
on her bottom lip. She didn’t want to know.
If you have any
sense at all, Cara, you’ll get in the car and drive away before they notice
you. What business was it of hers that Devin had a date? So he’d come to
Westport for her birthday party, but that didn’t mean he had to stay in her
back pocket the whole time. She clenched her teeth as she watched Penny trying
to climb into his.
Although from
the several rows of cars that sat between them she couldn’t hear a single word
they were speaking, Cara suddenly felt like she was eavesdropping on Devin's
private conversation with Penny. She did hear all the bells and whistles Penny
was clanging to attract Devin’s attention.
She watched as
Penny stood up, pulling Devin to a stand, and wrapped her arms around his
waist, gyrating her hips as she moved. It became a conscious effort for Cara
to keep her fingernails from breaking skin on the inside of her palms.
And to
breathe. She needed to breathe. Forcing a lung full of air into her chest,
she yanked the car door open. They were going to kiss and Cara did not want to
be around to see it. She’d already gotten a bigger eyeful than she wanted
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