The place where they were staying was within easy walking distance of the downtown area. There were two buildings: a large main house and a four-bedroom guest cottage. The Cassions and their staff would be in the main house. The protection detail was in the guesthouse. Robie and Reel were given rooms in the main house.
After she’d unpacked, Reel came into Robie’s bedroom, which was next to hers.
“Feeling privileged to be bunking with the Cassions?” she said as she perched on the bed.
Robie put the rest of his clothes away and said, “Jury’s still out on that.”
Reel looked out the window. “Never been here. Looks nice, if a little surreal. Like a Ralph Lauren ad.”
Robie joined her at the window and looked out over the grounds. “Secret Service will have its work cut out for it. Lots of access points and that’s a public thoroughfare right there. I bet they’d like more of a buffer.”
“You thinking they’re going to be attacked on dear old Nantucket?”
“Just saying.”
“It’s hard to turn it off, I guess.”
“It’s impossible to turn it off. Never look at the world any differently. Points of attack and counterattack.”
“Kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Not if it keeps you alive it doesn’t.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Want to guess who?” said Reel.
“Come on in,” said Robie.
The door opened and there stood Claire. Her smile faded when she saw Reel. “Will, my mom wanted to let you know that we’re all planning to go get some lunch and then take a walk on the beach. She’d really like you to come.” Claire did not look at Reel as she said this.
Reel put an arm around Robie’s shoulders. “Tell your mom we’d be delighted.”
Claire frowned and said, “Okay. Downstairs, five minutes.” Then she spun around on her heels and stalked off.
“I’d be careful, Jessica,” said Robie.
“Why?”
“Those are stilettos she’s wearing.”
At the restaurant Claire arranged things so she was sitting next to Robie while her brother and mom sat on either side of Reel.
She said to Robie, “Mom said you were, like, a hero.”
“That was very kind of your mother. But all I did was my job, no more, no less.”
She tapped him on the forearm. “I bet you have some great stories.”
Eleanor said, “None of which he can tell you, Claire, so don’t hound the poor man about them.”
“I don’t hound, Mom,” said Claire, frowning. “I’m just interested, that’s all.”
“You thinking about going into public service?” asked Robie.
“Yes. And it won’t be long. I’m practically in college.”
“You just started your sophomore year, so you really have three more years of high school,” her mother pointed out.
“Which will go by like that,” said Claire, snapping her fingers.
“I’m afraid you’re right about that,” said her mother with a sigh and a glance at Tommy. She tousled his hair. “We’re going to the beach after this, Tommy. You can add to your shell collection.”
Tommy glanced awkwardly at Reel. “That’s for kids, Mom.”
“I actually like collecting seashells,” said Reel.
Tommy immediately brightened. “I know a lot about them. I can show you stuff.”
“Sounds good.”
Eleanor gave Reel a grateful look and then they all turned to their menus.
The beach was deserted and rocky; it was low tide. Tendrils of sea foam and green algae coated the sand and the rocks. The day was overcast and the seas unstable. The breakers banged away, but far from where they walked.
Tommy and his mother had buckets in which they were collecting shells. Reel walked next to Tommy while Claire was glued to Robie. The protection detail, dressed in Windbreakers and jeans, formed a loose circle around them all.
“I’m really glad you came up here with us, Will,” said Claire.
“You’d probably like to be back home with your friends,” said Robie.
“Oh, no way,” she said. “My friends are okay, but they’re pretty immature. Especially the boys.”
“Yeah,” said Robie uncomfortably. He looked over at Reel for help, but she smiled and quickly looked away, focusing on Tommy and his bucket of shells.
Tommy held one up for her. “My dad said shells can come from thousands of miles away. This one might have started off near China or something and then ended up here. Pretty cool.”
“Pretty cool,” said Reel.
“Are you married?” Tommy asked.
“No.”
“Were you ever?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I mean, most women your age are married, aren’t they?”
“I don’t know, Tommy. Maybe they are.”
“Do you have kids?”
Reel looked past him, out to the ocean. “No, I don’t.”