A Walk Along the Beach by Debbie Macomber Page 0,1
him. “Hi,” she said, beaming him a smile that was guaranteed to charm Scrooge. “Do you have time to join my sister and me?”
Walking three paces behind Sean, I frantically waved my hands at Harper, silently demanding that she stop. I knew what she was doing, and I wanted no part of her playing matchmaker between Sean and me.
“I’m sure Sean has better things to do,” I said quickly. “Besides, I should get back to work.”
Sean hesitated and looked over his shoulder at me. “I’d be happy to join you, if you don’t mind.”
“Willa doesn’t mind. And, there’s no one in line,” Harper said, and gestured for Sean to take a seat.
I hesitated and scowled at my sister, a look that she ignored.
“Sit down, Willa,” Harper insisted.
As if unsure what to do, Sean remained standing with a look akin to a deer caught in headlights. I hated that Harper had put him on the spot.
Carefully watching me, Sean pulled out a chair and joined us at the table.
Harper shot me a look that said I should make my move.
Yeah, right. My little sister had yet to realize I had no moves. Our mother died of a brain aneurysm when I was thirteen and in junior high, so I’d completely missed out on those carefree teen years. As best I could, I’d taken over the duties at home, cooking and cleaning for our older brother, Lucas, Harper, and my dad. As soon as Lucas had graduated from high school, he’d joined the Army. In the years that followed losing Mom, our dad had slowly fallen apart, sinking his woes in the bottom of a whiskey bottle. After Harper’s bout with cancer, he’d gone to AA and was mostly sober these days, although he had occasional slips. He lived in a trailer park and worked as a dealer at a tribal casino just outside of town.
After Sean joined us, silence circled the table. Harper glared at me, waiting for me to lead the conversation.
I couldn’t. My mouth went dry and I stared down at my cooling coffee as if it held the answer to world peace. Rarely had I felt more awkward. Harper was a natural when it came to drawing people out. She, more than anyone else, should recognize how uncomfortable this situation made me. I couldn’t begin to imagine what she hoped this would accomplish. Already I could feel the heat warming my cheeks.
“So, Sean,” Harper said, dragging out the sentence. “You must be new in town? I don’t remember seeing you around.”
He stretched his arms out in front of him and held his coffee with both hands. He, too, seemed keenly interested in its contents. “I’ve been living in Oceanside about a year now.”
“That long?” I asked, surprised. He’d come in for coffee a time or two a few months back, but then I hadn’t seen him again until just recently. For the last week, not that I was counting or anything, he’d been in every morning. He always ordered an Americano, and every so often took a bakery item to go. Generally, he stopped by around ten, after the morning rush.
“I bought a place about a mile outside of town, off Harvest Road.”
“The Andrews house,” Harper said knowingly.
The Andrewses were good people and their home was beautiful. I’d gone to school with their youngest daughter, Lenni, although we were never good friends. Because I was involved in caring for our family, I was unable to participate in a lot of school activities. Lenni was a class officer and a cheerleader. We didn’t exactly run with the same crowd.
“Funny I haven’t seen you around before and now you’re here,” Harper continued with enthusiasm, as if meeting him was predestined. She continued to send me encouraging looks, apparently in hopes I would pick up her line of questioning, learn all I could about him.
Sean’s gaze bounced back to me. “I travel quite a bit for work.”
“How does your wife feel about that?”
I kicked my sister under the table at her blatant attempt to find out his marital status. She couldn’t be any more obvious had she tried.
“Unfortunately, I’m not married.”
“Really? Neither is Willa.”
I nearly groaned aloud from embarrassment. “Sean,” I said, taking up the conversation, “I apologize for my sister, I…”
His knowing smile stopped me. “It’s fine, Willa.”
“You say you travel,” Harper continued, ignoring my censure. “What do you do?”
“Photography.”
“Really?” That spiked Harper’s interest, and she straightened in her chair.