Maine - J. Courtney Sullivan [181]
When their husbands returned in the early afternoon, they gathered up the beach gear and headed inside. Ann Marie washed the sand off her legs and hands in the outdoor shower. It was finally warm enough for it. In the stall made of weathered wood, built on a raised platform, she ran the soap over her arms, looking upward. There was not a cloud in sight. She pulled off her wet bathing suit, slung it over the top of the wall. Afterward, she left it there to dry.
They decided to take a drive along the coast and maybe get a bite to eat. Linda wanted to photograph a lighthouse, so they got out of the car in York, and she snapped away at Nubble Light. It was a beautiful spot atop a grassy cliff—all white, with a white Victorian keeper’s house attached. The house had a red roof and gingerbread trim. Perhaps Ann Marie’s next project would be a replica of it. She imagined a battery-powered light that flashed every minute or so. But how would she do the water?
Her eyes met Steve’s and they smiled warmly at each other. She wanted to tell him her idea. She thought of how he had remembered the big competition and mentioned it as a sort of nod to their secret e-mail exchange. She felt grateful. Their flirtation might be the only thing keeping her afloat right now.
“How long has it been here?” Linda asked, still looking at the lighthouse through the camera’s viewfinder.
Ann Marie shrugged, but Patrick said, “It was built in 1879.”
Now how on earth did he know that? She had married such a smart and capable man. She reached for Pat’s hand and said, “Where shall we take these two for lunch, hon?”
They ended up at a new lobster shack on the beach in Kittery, where Alice and Maggie had gone with that schemer priest a few weeks back. Ann Marie felt uneasy just thinking about it, but once they started eating, she calmed down a bit.
After lunch, Pat went to get them a couple of milkshakes for dessert, and Linda headed to the ladies’ room. Ann Marie was alone with Steve for the first time.
“Thanks again for inviting us,” he said. “We’re having a blast so far.”
She smiled, but wished he wouldn’t speak for them both.
“We’re happy you came,” she said.
“Pat told me his mother and sister have been giving you a tough time,” he said. “How anyone could be mean to a sweetheart like you, I have no idea.”
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
Ann Marie’s entire body tingled in a way it hadn’t in God knows how long. She would do anything right now to have an hour alone with him. But she could already see Linda coming out from inside.
• • •
The next two days passed uneventfully enough, though Ann Marie felt tense. She could tell that Pat felt the same way. As they went to the Cove Café for breakfast; as they pointed out the house that looked like a wedding cake, and the Bush compound with its Secret Service agents stationed out front; as she brought Linda to her favorite antiques shop and snagged an armoire that perfectly matched the desk in Patty’s old room, there was a constant undertone of waiting—waiting for the Brewers to leave, waiting to see what Alice would do once Pat spoke to her about the property. And waiting for Kathleen to pull something.
But on the Fourth, Ann Marie tried to put all of that from her head because, other than Christmas, it was her favorite day of the year. From the time she and Pat were dating, they hadn’t missed a single Independence Day fireworks display in Portsmouth. When her children were small, she dressed them in red, white, and blue and gave them American flags to wave. She always prepared a great big picnic, and they made a point of arriving early so they could stake out the best possible spot. By seven o’clock, the entire field behind the high school would be full of blankets, their edges pressed up against one another so that it looked like an enormous quilt.
Ann Marie, Pat, Steve, and Linda spent the first part of the day sunning themselves and taking quick dips in the ocean when they got hot enough, though the water was too frigid