The Choice - Nicholas Sparks [69]
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted for dinner,” she chatted on, “but I knew that you liked chicken. I have to warn you, though. I’ve never been the chef in my family.”
“I’m sure whatever you made will be fine. I’m not that picky.”
“As long as it’s plain, right?”
“That goes without saying.”
“Are you hungry?” She smiled. “It’ll only take a few minutes to heat this up. . . .”
He debated for a moment before leaning against the counter. “Actually, could we wait for a little while? I’d like to enjoy my glass of wine first.”
She nodded, and in the silence she stood before him, wondering what she was supposed to do next.
“Would you like to go sit outside?”
“Love to.”
They took a seat in the rockers she’d placed near the door. Gabby took a sip of her wine, glad for something to take the edge off her nerves.
“I like your view,” Travis said gamely, rocking back and forth with energy. “It reminds me of mine.”
Gabby laughed, feeling a little burst of relief. “Unfortunately, I haven’t learned to enjoy it the way you do.”
“Very few people do. It’s kind of a lost art these days, even in the South. Watching the creek flow by is a little like smelling the roses.”
“Maybe it’s a small-town thing,” she speculated.
Travis eyed her with interest. “Tell me honestly, are you enjoying life in Beaufort?” he asked.
“It has its good points.”
“I hear the neighbors are terrific.”
“I’ve only met one.”
“And?”
“He has a tendency to ask loaded questions.”
Travis grinned. He loved her sense of play.
“But to answer your question,” she went on, “yes, I do like it here. I like the fact that it takes only a few minutes to get anywhere, it’s beautiful, and for the most part, I think I’m learning to love the slower pace of life.”
“You make it sound like Savannah is as cosmopolitan as New York or Paris.”
“It isn’t.” She looked over her glass at him. “But I will say that Savannah is definitely closer to New York than Beaufort. Have you ever been there?”
“I spent a week there one night.”
“Ha-ha. You know, if you’re going to make a joke, you could try coming up with something original.”
“That’s too much work.”
“And you’re averse to work, right?”
“Can’t you tell?” He leaned back in his rocker, the picture of ease. “Tell me the truth, though. Do you think you’ll ever move back?”
She took a swallow of wine before answering. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s a great place, and it’s one of the most beautiful cities in the South. I love the way the city was laid out. It has the most beautiful squares—these lovely parks scattered every few blocks—and some of the houses that front them are stunning. When I was a little girl, I used to imagine myself living in one of them. For a long time, it was a dream of mine.”
Travis stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. Gabby shrugged. “But as I grew older, I began to realize that it was more my mom’s dream than my own. She always wanted to live in one of those homes, and I remember the way she used to badger my dad to put in an offer whenever one was for sale. My dad did well, don’t get me wrong, but I could tell it always bothered him that he couldn’t afford one of the really grand houses, and after a while, it just rubbed me the wrong way.” She paused. “Anyway, I guess I wanted something different. Which led, of course, to college and PA school and Kevin. And here I am.”
From a distance, they heard Moby begin barking frantically, the sound followed by the faint rustling of claws on bark. Glancing at the large oak tree near the hedges, Travis watched as a squirrel raced up the trunk. Though he couldn’t see him, he knew that Moby was still circling the oak, thinking that somehow the critter would lose its grip. Noticing that Gabby had turned at the sound, Travis raised his glass in that direction.
“My dog is crazy about chasing squirrels. He seems to regard it as his life’s purpose.”
“Most dogs do.”
“Does Molly?”
“No. Her owner has a bit more control over her, and she nipped that little problem in the bud before