at the bait or dangerously close to being filleted.”
“For somebody who practically grew up on Rodeo Drive, you manage a passable fishing metaphor.”
“I’m a quick study.”
“So CJ is really here in Palmetto Grove?”
“He was at my house this morning.”
He frowned. “You’re spending time with him?”
Did she like this jealous streak? Did it make her feel loved? She wasn’t sure. At least he was paying attention.
“We’ve had two brief conversations,” she said. “Does that qualify?”
“About what?”
“He’s at loose ends. He’s been making a survey of Happiness Key to see what needs to be done. And he’s volunteered to draw up some plans for the old cottage sites.”
“He knows about the easement?”
“He thinks I’m crazy.”
“Do you really want to hang out with this guy? Remember how much trouble he caused you?”
She slapped her palm against the side of her head. “Gosh, no. Thanks. I’d completely forgotten.”
“I just don’t see how anything good can come of it.”
“Isn’t there some old expression about the pot calling the kettle black?”
“As reconciliations go, this isn’t going to win any awards.”
“CJ and I—”
“No, stop! I meant you and me, not you and him. I apologized, and it seems to be spinning around the stratosphere somewhere. Where’s the incentive for groveling?”
“You call this groveling?”
Bay screeched to a halt beside his dad, this time with swim bag in hand. “I want Mom to help me pick out shoes, not you.”
“I figured,” Marsh said.
“Are we still going to the movies? All of us?”
“I haven’t heard otherwise.”
“Then let’s go!”
“You boys run along,” Tracy said. “Bay, eat some popcorn for me.”
Bay wrapped his arms around Tracy’s waist for a spontaneous hug, then took off for the car.
“I hate to be jealous of my own son,” Marsh said. “It’s not seemly.”
“This is too complicated, Marsh. We’re too complicated.”
He held her gaze, and his expression was serious. “I’d like to think we can move beyond a few minor roadblocks.”
“These are walking, talking, troublemaking major roadblocks, complete with historical markers.”
“So you want to just table us for a while?”
She didn’t. She wanted to drive home with Marsh and Bay, pack Sylvia’s bags and dump the woman at the Greyhound station. But things really were more complicated than that. For now, Tracy didn’t see any way she and Marsh could move forward until the road ahead was cleared of ex-spouses and the painful yearnings of one little boy.
She nodded. “I’ll clean up my mess. You clean up yours. Then we’ll see where we stand.”
If he disagreed, he didn’t say so. “That timeline is pretty indeterminate.”
She melted just a little more. “Let’s aim for the short side.”
“At least we agree on something.” Before she realized his intention, he put his hand on her cheek, but when he leaned forward to kiss her, she backed away.
His gaze never left hers, but he nodded slightly, as if the terms of their treaty were being acknowledged.
“See you around,” he said.
“I’m sure you will.” She watched him follow his son to the car. She was still staring at their parking spot when Marsh was on the road leading home.
chapter ten
Dana had never seen her daughter happier. In the two weeks since she and Lizzie had moved into the house on Palmetto Grove Key, Lizzie hadn’t been bored for one moment. Everything was new; everything was special.
Years ago Dana had lived next door to Buddy, a floppy-eared hound, chained night and day to a post beside his doghouse. When the neighbors fenced their yard and ditched the chain, the dog suddenly had half an acre to explore. From the fro-licking Dana had witnessed, the grateful hound had felt the world was his again.
Lizzie reminded Dana of Buddy, thrilled beyond measure at her good fortune and determined to make use of every moment. Olivia had loaned her an old bike, and when Lizzie wasn’t pedaling along the oyster shell road, she was running from one end of the key to the other with her friend, exploring every twig and leaf, shell and piece of driftwood. She ate better, slept better. And the smiles? The smiles nearly tore Dana’s heart in two.
This afternoon was no exception.
“You mean it’s mine?” Lizzie looked at the metal detector in the box beside their kitchen table, then back up at her mother. “Really?”
Dana drew her daughter closer for a hug. “I told you I was going to get you a better birthday present once we settled down. New jeans and tops aren’t very exciting. What’s better than a metal detector for somebody who collects coins?”
“You mean I can