giving him a shooing gesture, she picked up the half glass of wine she’d been nursing. And read.
She read it twice, saying nothing as dishes rattled and water ran in the sink.
Then she set the pages aside, took off her glasses so he could see her eyes clearly.
She smiled.
“I would’ve lied a little. The kind of thing I consider a soft lie, because it’s like a cushion, it gives a soft landing to both parties.”
“A soft lie.”
“Yeah. I can usually manage those guilt-free. But I’m really glad I don’t have to lie, even with a soft one. You gave me a love scene.”
“Well, yeah. There was a reason. I haven’t written many of them. Could be a weak spot.”
“It’s not. It’s sexy and it’s romantic, and more, you showed me what they’re feeling.” She laid a hand on her heart. “I know he’s bruised, here again,” she said, tapping her hand. “She wants to reach him, and she so much wants him to reach her. I don’t know all the reasons, but I know this moment mattered to both of them. It’s not a weak spot.”
“He didn’t expect to find her. I didn’t expect him to find her. She makes a difference, in him, in the book.”
“Will he make a difference in her?”
“I hope so.”
“He’s not you.”
“I don’t want him to be, but there are pieces. She’s not you, but . . . I’m pretty sure she’s going to wear orange-framed reading glasses.”
She laughed. “My gift to your literary oeuvre. I can’t wait to read it, Eli, from start to finish.”
“It’ll be a little while yet. I couldn’t have written that scene three months ago. I wouldn’t have believed it, and I couldn’t have felt it.” He walked to her. “You’ve given me more than reading glasses.”
She slid her arm around him, rested her cheek on his chest. Hardly a wonder, she thought, once she’d taken that first risky step, the fall had followed so fast.
And she wouldn’t regret it.
“Let’s walk Barbie,” she said.
At the words “walk” and “Barbie,” the dog scrambled up and went into full-body wag.
“And I can tell you a couple of ideas I had for your new third-floor office.”
“For my office.”
Her lips curved as she drew back. “Just ideas. Including,” she continued as she rose for the leash and one of his jackets, as hers was currently in spin dry, “a really wonderful painting at a shop in the village. One of Hester’s, actually.”
“Don’t we have enough paintings in the house?”
“Not in your new office.” She rolled up the sleeves of his jacket, zipped it. “Plus, your art in there should be inspiring, stimulating and personal.”
“I know just what would inspire and stimulate and qualify as personal.” He reached for another jacket. “A full-length photo of you, wearing just those glasses.”
“Really?”
“Life size,” he said as he hooked Barbie’s leash.
“That’s a definite possibility.”
“What?” His head came up fast, but she was already walking out the door. “Wait. Seriously?”
Her laugh trailed back as he and the dog chased after her.
Twenty-five
ELI EXCHANGED E-MAILS WITH HIS INVESTIGATOR, DEVOTED an hour a day to researching Esmeralda’s Dowry and dived into his book. He put Abra off on the trip to Boston as the book was running hot for him. He craved those hours inside it, and the possibility, tantalizingly close now, of truly redefining his life.
He also wanted time to prepare. If he seriously meant to meet Eden Suskind, to try to talk to her about very sensitive areas of their personal lives, he needed to do it right.
Not so different, to his mind, from questioning a witness at trial.
And he wouldn’t mind another day or two testing out the video camera and nanny cam he’d bought.
In any case, he found himself reluctant to leave Whiskey Beach, even for a day. Periodically he wandered out to the terrace, took a look through the telescope.
Sherrilyn’s brief daily reports told him Justin Suskind remained in Boston, going about his business, living in an apartment near his offices. He’d visited his home once, but only long enough to pick up his two children to take them to dinner.
Still, he could return anytime. Eli didn’t want to miss him.
He tended to walk the dog north on the beach in the afternoon, and twice did his run with Barbie past Sandcastle, climbing up the north beach steps to return by the road route.
It gave him a closer look, a casual study of the doors, the windows.
The blinds on Sandcastle remained firmly shut.
He told himself he’d take