Summer by the Sea Page 14

  Like a good chef, Lucy washed her hands before preparing their meal. She expertly set up her chopping board and knife then proceeded to wash the vegetables.

  “Does it seem strange to you that we have a kid cooking for us?” Sam asked her.

  “No. I rather like it.” Sarah smiled at him.

  Sam shrugged. “I’m taking you both out to dinner in appreciation, just so you know.”

  Another warm glow shot through Sarah’s heart.

  “Someplace nice,” Sam added. “I’ve got a place in mind, though we might have to wait a day or two because I’ll need to make reservations. Do you like seafood, Sarah?”

  “Love it,” she replied.

  “Hey, Lucy, do you eat seafood?”

  “No crustaceans, but fish caught humanely using lines and nets are acceptable.”

  “She knows what crustaceans are,” Sam said proudly, nodding toward his daughter. “I taught her that.”

  “Does that mean lobsters?” Sarah asked. “I thought they were a local delicacy here.”

  “They are,” Sam mouthed. “And I love them.” He glanced at Lucy to be sure she hadn’t heard.

  “The way they’re cooked is inhumane,” Lucy said calmly, chopping the head of iceberg lettuce like a pro. “How would you like to be dropped into a pot of boiling water, Dad?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Sam said. He squinted at Lucy. Then at Sarah. “Where did she get the makeup, anyway?” he asked. “You don’t wear any.”

  Sarah most certainly did. She raised an eye at Sam. “At work I do, all the time.”

  Sam gazed deep into her eyes. “I like you how you are now.”

  “With no mascara? No lip gloss?”

  He gave her a slow smile. Under the table, he briefly touched her hand.

  Lucy’s dad was sweet on her. The shocking realization made Sarah put her hand over her quickening heart.

  But this was a secret not for Lucy to know, so Sarah needed to act low-key about it.

  Just as the details of what Colleen had signed were not for Sam to know, at least not yet. She needed to be low-key about that, too.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SAM NEVER DID reply to Duke’s wife’s invitation. Instead, two nights later—after he’d taken Lucy and Sarah down to Newburyport for dinner on a dockside table at his favorite seafood place—Sam phoned Duke at his home number.

  It was just after eight o’clock. Lucy was up in her room, probably Skyping with Colleen, and that didn’t cause any tension for Sam in the least, because the crisis of Lucy being angry with him seemed to be over. She loved her app project. Loved working with Sarah. She even seemed to be more comfortable with him, and more so every day.

  In fact, all seemed right with the world as far as he was concerned. Sarah was in Cassandra’s cottage, not fifty yards from where he was standing on the beach. The light in her bedroom was on, and he could gaze at it here in the warm June night air, listening to the waves slowly lapping onto the shore, and thinking about his time with her tonight.

  Sarah had been at her entertaining best, upbeat and making funny Sarah-like comments. The three of them had driven down the coast and back together in his truck. Lucy was in the backseat, and after she’d run into the house to make her Skype deadline with her mother—evidently, the cruise ship sailed promptly at five—he and Sarah had finally been alone.

  While telling him a story about the first time she’d ever been fishing as a kid, Sarah had touched him on the arm. Clasped him, warm and solid, which was remarkable, because he knew she was uptight about the age difference thing. His goal had been to make her forget about it. They’d been leaning against his truck in the darkness, laughing about nothing important, as if they had all the time in the world.

  That’s what was surprising to him about being with Sarah. The adventure of getting to know her was completely different from the way he usually felt when he went away to places like... Scotland, for example.

  He hadn’t escaped from anything. He was actually living his real life in Wallis Point with his real name. And his real job. And his real kid.

  And yet, he didn’t mind getting to know Sarah this way. It felt even better than staying anonymous. Different, but he was fast getting addicted to hanging out with the very intense Sarah Buckley.

  This possibly explained the insanity of the call he was making now.

  “Sam,” Duke said when he picked up the phone. “I didn’t expect you. What’s up?”

  “I know. Hope it’s not too late, but, ah...” Sam glanced at the light in Sarah’s bedroom. Somehow this nudged him to go on. “This is, ah, related to what you asked me two mornings ago on the boat.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Duke said. There was noise in the background that sounded like the baseball game on TV. “Do you want me to tell Melanie to set something up with you three, then?”

  You three—Duke was referring to Sarah, Lucy and him. “No. I mean, yeah.” Sam laughed. This felt so weird to him. But good weird. Right weird. “No, actually, it’s Lucy’s birthday next week.” Sarah’s, too, but he wouldn’t mention that. “So I was, ah, thinking of having a birthday party. Something small. Do you guys want to come over and help me celebrate?”

  “Which day?”

  “I want to do it early, on the fourth.” He would have to pull it together—get a cake and such—in a little over a week. He could do that, he figured. There would be fireworks on the beach, so that was a draw. There would be crowds and traffic, of course, but he had available parking for people on his lawn...

  “Sam, you always have a house party on the Fourth of July. We were planning on going this year, anyway.”

  Yes, Sam usually had a big blowout with crowds of people—lifeguards, teachers, friends—whoever could squeeze their vehicle into his front yard. Cassandra usually let him use her driveway for guest parking, too.

  “Actually, I’m thinking about something different this year.” Because he was different. “No blowouts. This will be a small birthday party. Yes, it will be during the holiday fireworks on the beach, but that’s the fun of it.” Lucy had already said she would share her day with Sarah. “Plus, Lucy isn’t big on crowds, and neither is Sarah, so—”

  “Sarah. That’s your neighbor. You are seeing her, aren’t you?”

  Sam let out a breath. He’d slipped in mentioning her name. He hadn’t meant to do that. Technically, he wasn’t seeing anybody, but he didn’t like getting into the particulars with Duke. “No,” he said shortly. “She’s close to my daughter. Her name is Sarah Buckley.”

  Duke paused. “Sarah Buckley? That Sarah? Isn’t she the high-tech woman that was written up in a magazine article? Cassandra Shipp’s niece?”

  “You heard about that?”

  “Sure. Cassandra showed the article to everybody at the library. You know my daughter is a summer volunteer there, right?”

  “No.” Sam cringed.

  “Sarah Buckley is famous. You knew that too, right?”

  “Duke, she’s a regular person. My daughter loves her. Can’t we just...be normal about this?”

  There was a long pause. “Okay. We’ll be there on the Fourth. But I warn you, people aren’t going to accept that you’re not having your regular Fourth of July blowout. They’re not going to accept it. They’ll show up anyway, trust me.”

  As Sam turned it over in his head, he saw the wisdom in what Duke had said. As long as he lived here, there would be a blowout. He had to keep in mind what he could and couldn’t change.

  “Let me talk with Lucy, and I’ll get back to you.” He had to figure out a solution to make everyone happy.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Sam met Lucy at the bottom of the stairs. He was on his way to Cassandra’s cottage to pick up Sarah for their morning meditation session. Lucy was on her way to feed Cassandra’s two cats.

  On the wa
lk over, in the predawn light, Sam asked Lucy outright. “I’d like to get a cake for your birthday. I was thinking of doing it on the Fourth because that’s when the fireworks are.”

  “No, Dad.” Lucy stopped. “That’s Sarah’s birthday. We need to do something for her special. My birthday is on the eighth. We’ll do something else for me then.”

  “Okay,” he said pragmatically, slogging through the cool beach sand in his bare feet. “Out of curiosity, did Sarah tell you about her birthday?”

  “She mentioned it when she saw on the Future Tech Scholars application that my birthday was right after hers.” She glanced up at him. “I really want to give her a surprise party. Just you and me. Please?” she wheedled. “Can we do it for her?”

  “You’ve really gotten close to her in one week, haven’t you?”

  “Six days. And yes. I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

  They had come to Sarah’s cottage door. “Well, I’ll let you plan it, then,” he said as she inserted the key Sarah had given her into the lock. “One more thing. How do you feel about big Fourth of July parties?”

  “I’ve never been to one, but it sounds like fun.” She paused. “Sarah won’t like it, though.”

  “No?”

  “No.” Lucy shook her head decisively. “She’ll love a small, separate party, like the one I’m going to plan for her. We should do it in the morning, but not too early. After you come back from meditating will be best. I’ll get everything ready, and then we’ll surprise her.”

  “Okay. You have a week to take care of the details, Luce.”

  “I know. Seven days,” his very precise daughter said. She pushed open the creaky door, and Sam saw that both cats were sitting still beside their food bowls, waiting for Lucy.

  As she bustled about getting cat breakfast served, Sam waited for Sarah. She came out from the bedroom with her hair pinned back and wearing a pair of shorts this time.

  “Are you ready?” She grabbed her phone from the table where she’d been juicing it up. “I’m going to take a video of you today while you meditate.”

  He paused. “Why?”

  “Because you know that ‘what do you want at the end of summer’ visualization thing you said to me that first day? That was the closest I’ve come to feeling something. I thought maybe if I filmed you and studied it and then practiced some more—”

  “Let’s just take a walk, okay?” He smiled at her and shifted his backpack onto his other shoulder. He knew she was impatient to feel something, as she put it. “Let’s skip the whole sitting-meditation thing for today. We’ll do a walking meditation, instead.”

  “Sam...no. I need to learn.”

  He liked the way she said his name, but he didn’t like that she appeared to be panicking. He held out his hand. “Come on, Sarah. This will help. It’s part of the process. I promise.”

  She didn’t take his hand, but she did brush past him. He would do everything he could to distract her from thinking about what she couldn’t do and, instead, try to help her relax. This was most important.

  He noticed Lucy watching them as he turned to close the door. Sam gave her a thumbs-up. Lucy nodded.

  He felt like he and his daughter were coconspirators. Finally.

  His heart swelled. Working with Sarah was bringing him closer to Lucy, and for that he was grateful.

  As for the blowout, they would figure it out when the day came.

  * * *

  THREE DAYS LATER, Sarah sat in Sam’s living room, setting up her laptop on his glass coffee table. She still didn’t get this whole meditation thing. It was particularly nerve-racking because she had less than a week—five days—before she would be able to return home. Plus, she’d promised to show Sam Lucy’s video before she sent it to Gregory and Richard, and she couldn’t very well renege on that promise, much as she would like to.

  Sam handed her a glass of sparkling water. Raising a brow, he sat beside her on his couch.

  “I’m actually kind of nervous to see it,” he confessed.

  Yes, she was, too. Sam had to sign off on the video. If he didn’t, Sarah’s entire plan would be ruined, and as such, she was treading carefully. She did her best to remain neutral and nonchalant.

  “Luce,” he called upstairs. “Are you coming down to watch?”

  Lucy stuck her head into view from the stairwell. “No. I watched it twenty hundred times already.”

  “Well, it’s my first time.” Sam moved closer to Sarah and patted a spot on the couch on the other side of him. “Care to join me?”

  “No way. I’m too nervous that you’ll say no after you see it.” Lucy scooted out of view.

  While Sam frowned, Sarah called up the computer file, her heart beating in her chest. She was nervous in a new way now, because Sam was sitting so close to her that his leg brushed hers. Her whole body felt prickly with yearning, as if her skin was begging her to ask him to touch her. All over. Slowly.

  She squirmed on the couch. The shorts she was wearing rode a little higher, putting pressure on a part of her anatomy that was just screaming for Sam’s caress...

  They’d been working and living beside each other for going on two weeks now. Not enough time to know someone completely, but more than enough hours, minutes, days together to know she really, really liked having him around.

  He was funny. He was smart. He was thoughtful.

  He even cooked for her. They’d eaten three meals together yesterday, once without Lucy, who’d been happily distracted by skipping ahead with her project and loading her app with maps and tidal charts.

  Sarah hugged her bare arms. She felt barely dressed in short shorts and a thin sleeveless blouse—first, because it was hot outside—not muggy, just hot in the sun—and second, because she had this strange, driving need to feel sexy for once.

  Sam made her feel sexy.

  He got up from the couch and then came back with a bottle of his Lifeguard Lager. The pretense of not drinking it around Lucy had gone by the wayside. Lucy didn’t care. Her mother drank wine, she’d informed Sam, and it wasn’t a big deal to them.

  Sarah opened the computer file, and Lucy’s face came up, superimposed with a big white arrow. All Sarah had to do was hit the arrow, and the video would begin.

  This could go either way, and Sarah was nervous as hell. The pitch was damn good. It might make Sam proud or it might freak him out.

  Lucy was freakishly advanced for her age. In Silicon Valley and as a scholarship student at the Future Tech Scholars Academy—well, she would just be one of the crowd. But here in Wallis Point, Sam might be very surprised by what he was about to see.

  Sarah hoped he wouldn’t be upset. “Are you ready?” she asked him.

  He reached over to her laptop and pressed the start button himself.

  Lucy came into view, standing up straight, smiling pleasantly and professionally in all her confident glory.

  Her hair was pulled back and she wore a light layer of what Sarah called “stage” makeup, to make it clear to Lucy that wasn’t an everyday thing, even if she was accepted into the Future Tech Scholars competition.

  Lucy’s hands were relaxed and her posture erect and natural, just the way Sarah had taught her. Sarah had spent hours in personal coaching, learning to give effective presentations, both in person and on camera. Lucy was a fast learner. Kids naturally were, in Sarah’s opinion. They’d worked first from a script, which Lucy had pretty much memorized. In the video she spoke from memory with only a few ad-libs, but the pitch appeared internalized, as if she was having a conversation with the viewer.

  Sarah watched Sam as he watched Lucy.

  He leaned slightly forward, lips parted. He wasn’t smiling. That wasn’t a good sign.

  Swallowing she turned back to the video. They were at the halfway mark. Soon, Lucy would be turning to her wall maps.

/>   Sarah lifted her glass of water to her lips. She should have asked for something stronger. She was feeling too jumpy.

  She moved to stand, but Sam put his hand on her knee. She dared to look at him.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said when the video had finally finished. “Who is that girl?”

  Her heart hammered. “Because she did such a great job, you mean.”

  “No. I mean, yeah. I mean...she’s just like my mother.” He shook his head in wonder. “She’s twelve—well, almost twelve. But today, she’s eleven going on forty.”

  Sarah was “going on forty.” In just a few days, in fact. She could feel her face turning crimson.

  “I mean,” Sam said, seeing her embarrassment, “I don’t exactly have a great relationship with my mother, to put it bluntly.”

  “She’s a doctor, right?”

  “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I think doctors in general are great...”

  “But not that doctor in particular,” she finished for him.

  He stood, as if shaking off a bad feeling. “You know what, forget I said anything. It doesn’t matter. I’m being crazy. Lucy is Lucy. I’m proud of her.” He seemed to force a smile.

  Then he went to the kitchen and drew another beer out of the refrigerator.

  “I’ll have one, too,” she called.

  “Great.” He took out a bottle opener and flipped the caps off, then brought them back to the table. “Hold on,” he told her. He went back out and got her a chilled glass from the freezer.

  She’d trained him well. “Thank you,” she said kindly as she poured her beer.

  He sat beside her again. He seemed to be far away, deep in thought.

  “You’re not comfortable with the video, are you?” she asked quietly.

  He shook his head absently. “It’s the whole competition. And it bothers me that I’m not comfortable, because I know I should be.” He turned to her. “Review the process again with me. The video gets submitted to the selection committee. How long does she wait until she hears from them?”