High Noon Page 0,93

times. I don't think Ava's one of them."

"She won't be. She had this house in West Chatham when she was married, and she created the most amazing gardens. She even got written up in Southern Homes... You knew that, didn't you?"

His dimple flicked on. "I might've come across something."

"Smarter than you look, and that's a pure compliment."

"You, too." He leaned over, kissed her breezily. "Want to walk around a bit, maybe down to the pier?"

"Yes, I'd like that."

Bricked paths, arbors and trellises, copper urns going soft and green, and pretty music as the evening breeze stirred hanging glass and wind chimes.

The sun was sinking, turning the marsh into shimmering colors. From the pier she could see other homes, other gardens, and what she thought was a young boy sitting on the edge of a pier with his line in the water.

"Do you ever do that? Fish off here?"

"I'm a crappy fisherman. Rather just sit here with a beer and let someone else drown the worms."

She turned around, noted how far they'd walked. "The grounds are more extensive than I realized." And there, she noted, were the sparkling waters of a swimming pool. "A lot to maintain. I'm still having a hard time seeing you as the country gentleman. How about that long story on how you ended up here?"

"It's not all that interesting."

"Not all that interesting to you, or potentially to me?"

"Probably either."

"Now, of course, my curiosity is piqued and, unquenched, will depend on imagination to satisfy. Such as you built it for a womanunrequited love, heartbreak-who left you for another man."

"Not that far off."

She sobered instantly. "I'm sorry, bad joke. We should start back to the house, don't you think? I'd hate to miss the pizza boy. I'd love to eat on the veranda, or in the garden," she continued as they walked up the pier. "Wouldn't-"

"I built it for my mother."

"Oh." She heard the echoes of deep unhappiness in his voice, but said nothing else.

"I guess that's not the beginning of the story. My mother was seventeen when she had me. What we could call a very big oops. My father was barely older. For whatever reason they-or she-decided to go through with the pregnancy, get married. I'm grateful, obviously, about the first part of that decision, but the married part probably wasn't the smartest move on either of their parts. They fought all the time-the time they were together. He was lazy, she was a bitch, he drank too much, she kept a crappy house. Fun and games at the Swifts'."

"It's difficult for a child to grow up with that kind of friction."

"Yeah, well, the thing is they were both right. He was lazy and drank too much. She was a bitch and kept a crappy house. I was ten when he took off. He'd taken off a few times before-so had she. But this time he didn't come back."

"Are you saying you never saw him again?"

"Not for a lot of years. Man, she was pissed. Paid him back by going out a lot, doing what she wanted for a change. More than half the time

I wondered if she even knew I was there. So to remind her I was, I got into as much trouble as possible. Fighting mostly. I was the neighborhood badass for five years running."

Saying nothing, she lifted her hand, traced a fingertip down the scar through his eyebrow.

"Yeah, battle scar. No big."

"It intrigued me when I first saw you. Scar here, little dimple right here." She tapped the corner of his mouth. "Opposite ends. You've got some opposite ends in you, Duncan. What happened in year six? How did you lose your title as neighborhood badass?"

"You're a smart one. I targeted this kid who was a lot tougher than he looked. He didn't kick my ass, but boy, did we kick each other's."

"And ended up the best of friends," Phoebe concluded. "Isn't that the manly cliche?"

"I hate being predictable, but close enough. While we're pounding each other bloody, and I'm wondering if my badass title is about to be stripped away, the kid's father comes along. Big guy, yanked us apart.

We're going to do that shit, we're going to put the gloves on and do it like men. Kid's father used to box for a living. No wonder Jake almost kicked my ass."

"And who won the title in the ring?"

"Neither. We never got around to the gloves. Jake's father dragged me to their place, cleaned us both up at the kitchen sink