The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [148]
A few minutes later, her backpack dangled from her right hand as she took long-legged strides across the lawn toward the cliffs and the path that would take her to the gazebo. It had rained during the night but at present the sky was big and bright and empty, save for a few gulls that preferred the ledges—both natural and man-made—along the cliff face for their nests.
Though the grass was still damp, the pebbles and rocks on the cliff path were as dry as cornmeal and her steps were quick and sure.
Stepping off the path and around a few trees into the clearing, she stopped and marveled at the quiet, peaceful, homeagain sensation that washed over her. What was it about this particular wedding canopy that attracted her so? In light of the strange happening during her last visit, she ought to be terrified, but she wasn’t—only glad and lighthearted.
She worked well for the next two hours. The sketches shifted easily from her head to the paper, which for her was the hardest part. Not the effort of drawing itself but the telling of the story via pictures rather than with words. It could be tricky sometimes, and it was important to her that a young person who hadn’t yet learned to read could understand the tale as well as a slightly older person who had. Later, the details in the pictures and the expressions on the characters’ faces would appeal to adults, making it “a book for children of all ages,” as one reviewer described Patty Ann Pettigrew Picks a Peck of Peaches.
And still another hour passed, and she was oblivious to everything but Patty Ann and Oliver—now in her mind as a towheaded scamp with gray eyes and freckles. She was contemplating making Oliver one of Patty Ann’s permanent, recurring friends when the bushes behind her rustled and Craig emerged from the woods where the path connected the two properties—picnic basket in hand.
He smiled when he saw her, and the lurch in her abdomen was not unpleasant, she noted with interest . . . very not unpleasant.
“I’m sort of jumping the gun on Friday night, but Gus said you were down here working, so I thought I’d take a chance on it being time for a break. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.” She closed up her sketch pad and set it aside. “Please don’t tell me Gus was down here and I didn’t see him. I get a little absorbed. My mom came over once, did my dishes, cooked me dinner, and left it under a cover on my counter. I thought I had elves.”
He chuckled as he reached the bottom of the stairs, barely hesitated, and then stepped inside. “By the end of the summer you’ll realize that even though you might not see him, Gus is everywhere, sees everything, and knows all. It’s spinechilling.”
“He’s been with you a long time.” It wasn’t a question.
“All my life. And if he wasn’t ratting me out to my dad, he was secretly helping me out of one giant jam or another, so I guess you could say he helped raise me.”
“And you love him,” she said, leaning forward on the edge of the chair and pushing the stool out for him.
He looked put on the spot for a second, then nodded as he sat. “Yeah, I do.”
Setting the basket on the floor between them near the little table, he swiveled his head from side to side, looking around, mixing memories with the sad reality of the condition of the canopy. His eyes gravitated back to her; he grinned and rubbed his palms together. “So, how’s the story going?”
“Great. Finally. I love working here. Thank you for letting me.”
He dropped his gaze to the picnic basket and shrugged. “No problem.” He reached in and brought out two neatly wrapped sandwiches. “Turkey or tuna?”
“I like both, you choose.”
He looked torn. “Me, too. Let’s go fifty-fifty.”
“Deal.”
His expression was calculating. “Wanna eat dessert first?”
She gasped, shocked and delighted by the devil inside him. “What is it?”
“Wanda’s tapioca pudding. Left over from dinner last night.” Without waiting for an answer, he gave her a spoon, handle first, and then dove into the basket for the custard cups. “It’s one of my favorites, so she makes it pretty often. It’s the only reason I keep her around.