In the kitchen Abra chose a bottle of Shiraz while Maureen plopped down on the sofa in the cozy living area.
“He says that’s fine. The kids haven’t killed each other yet, and are currently in the happy throes of a snowstorm.” She looked up from her phone, smiled when Abra handed her the wine, took a seat. “Thanks. I’ll consider this girding my loins before I walk next door into the battle and feed the troops.”
“Make out?”
“I was fifteen, and while I had been kissed, that was the first kiss. Tongues and hands and heavy breathing. Let me say first, the boy had most excellent lips, and very nice hands. The first, I’ll also admit, to touch these amazing ta-tas.” She patted her breasts then sipped her wine. “But not the last.”
“Details, details.”
“July Fourth, after the fireworks. We had a bonfire on the beach. A bunch of us. I had permission, which was hard-won, let me tell you, and which my kids will likely have a harder time winning due to my experience. He was so cute. Oh my God, Eli Landon up from Boston for a month—and I set my sights on him. I was not alone.”
“How cute?”
“Mmm. That curling hair that would get more sun-streaked every day, those fabulous crystal blue eyes. And he had a smile that would just knock you senseless. An athletic build—he played basketball, as I remember. If he wasn’t at the beach—shirtless—he was at the community center playing ball—shirtless. Let me repeat: Mmm.”
“He’s lost weight,” Abra mentioned. “He’s too thin.”
“I saw some pictures, and the news clips. Yeah, he’s too thin. But then, that summer? He was so beautiful, so young and happy and fun. I flirted my butt off and that July Fourth bonfire paid the dividends. The first time he kissed me we were sitting around the fire. Music banging out, some of us dancing, some of us in the water. One thing led to another, and we walked down to the pier.”
She sighed with the memory. “Just a couple of hormonal teenagers on a warm summer night. It didn’t go any farther than it should have—though I’m sure my father would have disagreed—but it was the headiest moment of my life to that date. Seems so sweet and innocent now, but still ridiculously romantic. Surf and sea and moonlight, music from down the beach, a couple of warm, half-naked bodies just beginning to understand, really, what they were for. So . . .”
“So? So?” Leaning forward, Abra circled both hands in a hurry-up gesture. “What happened then?”
“We went back to the bonfire. I think it might have gone farther than it should have if he hadn’t taken me back to the group. I was so unprepared for what happens inside your body when someone really flips that switch. You know?”
“Oh boy, do I.”
“But he stopped, and after, he walked me home. I saw him a few more times before he went back to Boston, and we had a few more lip-locks—but nothing hit me like the first. The next time he came down, we were both dating someone. We never reconnected, not that way. He probably doesn’t even remember that July Fourth with the redhead under the Whiskey Beach pier.”
“I bet you’re selling yourself short.”
“Maybe. If we ran into each other when he’d come up to visit, we’d have a nice little chat—the way you do. Once I ran into him in the market when I was enormously pregnant with Liam. Eli carried my bags out to the car. He’s a good man. I believe that.”
“You met his wife?”
“No. I saw her once or twice but never met her. She was gorgeous, I’ll give her that. But I wouldn’t say she was the type who enjoyed those nice little chats outside the market. Word was there was no love lost between her and Hester Landon. Eli came up alone or with the rest of his family a few times after they were married. Then he just didn’t come. At least not that I know of.”
She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get home. Feed the rampaging horde.”
“Maybe you should go by and see him.”
“I think it might feel like an intrusion at this point—or like I was morbidly curious.”
“He needs friends, but you may be right. It may be too soon.”
Maureen carried her empty wineglass to the kitchen, set it down. “I know you, Abracadabra. You