just an old rumor that was laid to rest a long time ago. Who did you hear it from?”
“Topher,” she said.
“Oh crap. I’m sorry. He hasn’t lived here in a long time.”
“Yeah, I guess. And you don’t have to be sorry. I keep telling you, none of this was your fault.”
“I guess.” He didn’t sound too sure.
“Well,” she said on a very long breath, “I think I know how we can put an end to all this talk about the two of us.”
“You do?”
“I think you should sweep Kerri Eaton off her feet with a bunch of public displays of affection like the one I just witnessed. So keep it up.”
Chapter Thirteen
Friday had been a good day. Maybe the best day since the accident. Topher had gone swimming. He’d cleaned the cottage. He’d walked to town twice. And his leg, while not entirely pain free, was feeling less stiff than it had in weeks.
He made a printout of the photo he’d taken of Rose’s letter, but he’d been unable to get a word with Ashley before sending the kid home. As his granddad might have said, Ashley was busier than a one-armed paperhanger with the hives.
The buzz at the inn made him yearn for those old days out at the yacht club. He sat for an hour on the porch until he couldn’t sit still a moment longer. He’d never stopped paying his dues to the Jonquil Island Yacht Club. Maybe it was time to show his ugly face there.
So he called to see if he could charm his way into a dinner reservation at the restaurant. He certainly hadn’t lost his touch over the phone. Plus the maître d’ had known him since he was sixteen and was happy to find him a spot as a longtime member from one of the island’s oldest families.
His tie felt like a noose, though, when he climbed the steps into the brick building that had housed the club for eighty years. The place was filled to overflowing with sailors, their cheeks ruddy from a day fighting the wind and an evening downing alcohol.
He made his way through the foyer without anyone recognizing him, although he collected more than a few odd looks. It wasn’t until he reached the entrance to the dining room that he ran into Harry Bauman and had to stop and endure the man’s stare.
The conversation was beyond awkward and involved a few sentences with phrases like “good to see you” and “how was today’s sailing.”
Five minutes after he’d escaped, he found himself sitting at a corner table hiding behind the menu. This had been a bad idea. Maybe if he’d invited Jessica it would have—
No. It would not have been better. And besides, why would she have wanted to be seen with him here?
He ordered the fried shrimp and pulled out his cell phone when the waiter took away his menu. He didn’t have a boatload of email messages the way he once had, when he’d been running CEM Investments. So he pulled up Facebook and cruised the fake news.
“Topher?”
He looked up, bracing for another uncomfortable encounter. Caleb Tate stood by his table dressed in the yacht club formal uniform of gray slacks and blue blazer. The man looked good. Unlike so many of their teammates, he hadn’t put on a lot of extra poundage around the middle.
“Hello, Caleb,” he said, tamping down the urge to tell the man to leave him the hell alone. Or better yet, rip him a new one for what he’d said to Jessica all those years ago.
He couldn’t say that he really remembered the encounter though. But he sure as hell remembered the pain in Jessica’s voice when she’d talked about what had happened. Yeah, they’d both been jerks in high school.
The question of the moment was whether Caleb had evolved.
“I heard you were in town,” Caleb said, pulling out the facing chair and making himself comfortable. He waved his half-empty glass of scotch at a passing waiter. He got a deferential nod from the man.
Clearly, Tate was comfortable being the big man on campus, and now that Topher thought about it, Caleb had always loved being the center of attention. Topher, although the captain of the team, had been happy to let Caleb bask in all that stupid adoration.
“It’s nice to see you again, man,” Caleb said, giving Topher the stare.
Look at me, Topher wanted to scream. “It’s nice to see you too,” he said, hanging on to civility by a