can I help?”
“Stay out of it.” Charlie’s tone was firm.
“C’mon, can’t I have any fun? You know, like go through her underwear.”
“No, Sam. No panty raids.” He checked his watch. “Whoa, it’s late. I better get going.” He stood up from the log. “Remember,” he said, “no monkey business. Stay away from Tess and keep clear of the cottage tonight.”
“Relax, you’re too uptight,” Sam said, reaching for the rope and stepping onto the knot. “I promise I won’t stink up the place.”
“But flatulence is one of your specialties.”
“Flatulence, noun,” Sam said with a grin. “The ambulance that scoops you up when you’re squashed by a steamroller.” He let out a great laugh. “Give me a push, big bro.”
Once more, Charlie obliged, and Sam swung out over the pond. He glided back and forth a few times, picking up speed, and then, at the perfect moment, he let go. “See you later.”
Charlie blinked, Sam vanished, and all that was left in the Forest of Shadows was the fading light and the whoosh of the wind.
FOURTEEN
TINK HAD ALREADY PLOWED THROUGH A PINT OF BEN & Jerry’s Chubby Hubby and was halfway through a triple-decker baloney, Swiss, and slaw sandwich. A giant bottle of Diet Dr Pepper, his only nod to weight-watching, sat with the remains of his trencherman’s snack on the bench in Crocker Park. Tess’s dog, Bobo, lazed in the grass nearby, chomping through a bag of sourdough pretzels.
He had come to hang out here on the bluff above the harbor as day turned to night. An hour earlier, he had swung by Lookout Court to check on Tess’s place while she was away and to make sure everything was all right. So he had let himself in the front door that was always unlocked and had seen the usual mayhem of her whirlwind. Running shoes caked with mud strewn in the living room, a jogging bra hanging from the kitchen doorknob, dishes and pans piled in the sink clamoring for cleaning, and Bobo whimpering to go outside.
So as he often did, he took the golden retriever to the park. That was the extent of his romantic life these days. High school ball games with the guys. Movies at the Liberty Tree Mall in Danvers. Long nights on the stool at Maddie’s. And, always, good old Bobo.
Now Saturday night was already upon him, and once more he had nothing much to do. Some weekends, he managed to score a meal off Tess by dropping by and pleading hunger. If she was home, she always took him in and they wound up cooking together, renting a Steve McQueen movie, and lazing on her shaggy sofa. Sure, she managed to burn everything she ever touched in the kitchen, but he didn’t mind. He just liked being near her.
On one hand, Tess was like his kid sister. She was the type of girl who needed a big brother to keep her on the straight and narrow. She was smarter than everyone else and as strong a sailor as anyone he had ever met. But she also needed an anchor after her dad had died, and he was trying his hardest to fill that job.
To be totally honest, since the moment they had met at the Topsfield Fair, he’d wrestled with a wicked crush on her. At the time, he was a small-time celebrity, doing the weather on TV, and had volunteered to sit in the dunking booth to raise money for the Jimmy Fund. A stunning woman with long dark hair had fired three footballs at the target. Each spiral found its mark, plunging him into the murky tank. When he dried off, he was determined to meet the girl with the killer arm.
That was four years ago, before he was run off the air for his wiseacre remarks about Skeletor the Anchorwoman. Tess had written the station on his behalf; they had become fast friends; and he had gone to work for her in the sail loft. Every minute of every day, he tried to conceal his ardor, all the while hoping she would fall for him. He had even tried dropping some pounds to make her take notice, giving up his beloved Chubby Hubby. In the end, though, it wasn’t his potbelly that was getting in the way. When it came to men, she was a mystery. There was no holding on to her. She was a free spirit, and he lived uncomfortably with his longing.
Bobo was eyeing his triple-decker now, and