his hands on his hips, talking to someone whom Abigail couldn’t see because they were blocked by Bruce. Still, she knew it had to be Eric Newman, Scottie, whatever his name was, and that he’d followed them here. She didn’t move, and a snatch of conversation reached her—Bruce’s voice exclaiming enthusiastically about something. The sun came out again and she put her hand above her eyes. Bruce bent to pick up a stone and she saw that it really was Eric Newman, wearing a white fisherman sweater and staring directly at Abigail through a pair of wire-rimmed sunglasses.
Bruce must have caught Eric looking Abigail’s way, because he turned around and said, “You’re awake.”
“A little bit,” she replied, and thought of lying back down on the rocks, hoping Eric would just go away. But it was too late for that. She stood up, her body stiff—how long had she been out?—pulled her fleece back on and walked toward the two men. Bruce was smiling, so it was obviously not a confrontation, at least not yet.
“Abigail, this is Scott. Scott, this is Abigail.”
The lenses of Eric’s sunglasses were not completely opaque, and she could see the intensity of his stare. “We met, didn’t we?” she said to Eric, not reaching out with her hand. “First night I was here. In the lodge. You said I looked familiar.”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “That’s right.”
“I thought you said your name was Eric Newman, or am I confused?” She said it without thinking, but he stammered a little in his reply and Abigail felt a brief moment of triumph that she’d put him off balance.
“Uh, well, it’s Eric Scott Newman. I like to be called Scott.”
“Uh-huh,” Abigail said.
“Bruce just told me that you’re on your honeymoon,” he said, and there was a click in his voice as if his mouth was dry. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Abigail said. “Are you married?”
She caught Bruce turning his head toward her out of the corner of her eye, maybe hearing something in the tone of her voice. Maybe she was going too far, taunting her stalker, but it felt good. Her own words were filling her, and despite the presence of two tall men, she felt tall herself.
“I was,” Eric said. “But it didn’t work out.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. So, you’re here alone, or are you with a group?”
“No, just here by myself. Heard some good things about this place. Wanted to get out into nature. It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”
“It’s goddamn life-changing.” That was Bruce, jumping back into the conversation. “Not just here.” He gestured with his hand toward the view. “But at Quoddy. Getting away from screens, from your phone, from everything.”
“Yeah, I love it. Makes me a little sad to be here alone, to tell you the truth.” He flicked his eyes toward Abigail.
“Look, man,” Bruce said. “I get you. If you want to join us for dinner, tonight or any—”
“No, no way.” Eric held up his hands, Abigail noticing all the chunky rings again. Had he been wearing all of those in California? “You guys are on your honeymoon. I wouldn’t dare.”
“Well, if you change your mind.”
“Yeah,” Abigail said. “If you change your mind, join us.”
“I won’t, but thanks. And I should let you both be alone here now as well. I was just passing through, really, and now I’m starting to think about brunch.”
Hearing the word “brunch” made Abigail check the time on her Fitbit. It was ten-thirty already—how long had she been sleeping?—and she realized that she had to hurry if she didn’t want to be late to her swimming pool date with Jill.
“Take it easy, you two,” Eric said, and spun and left, heading toward the steep path that led back up to the bluff.
“You were asking him a lot of personal questions,” Bruce said when Eric was out of earshot.
“He gives me the creeps, that guy. He came up to me the first night we were here, while you were getting drinks at the bar. He said he was sure he knew me from somewhere, and he asked me if I’d been to Piety Hills Vineyard.”
“So he must have seen you there, on your bachelorette weekend.”
“Yeah, but I don’t remember him. It’s creepy, don’t you think?”
“Doesn’t sound that creepy to me, but we can avoid him. It definitely didn’t sound like he was interested in having dinner with us.”
“Thank God for that,” Abigail said, then reminded Bruce that she was supposed to go swimming with Jill this morning, and they began the walk back to