Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brad arrived as promised on Friday evening about seven o’clock.
I knew the timing, so I planned on hearty hors d’oevres and wine.
Rita helped by making Swedish meatballs and a cheese fondue she used to offer on such occasions “back in the day.” I brought those upstairs at about five after we tested them in her kitchen.
Watching from my balcony, I waited for him to turn the corner. I had pigs-in-a-blanket in the oven, which I’d turned off when the timer dinged, then dumped a bag of potato chips into a bowl for Rita’s fondue.
I waved to him from the top landing when he pulled into the driveway, then called for him to hurry. My heart pounded as I watched him grab a backpack from behind his seat and take the steps two at a time.
We kissed on the landing, then inside the kitchen. My heart exploded with wanting him, yet I tried to keep my wits about me. “I’m so happy you’re here,” I said, taking a breath. I wanted to drag him to the bedroom, but thought about Rita below us.
That didn’t seem to matter to him.
Afterwards, we wandered to the kitchen and I laughed. “If you’re hungry, we have extra-browned hot doggies and over-done meatballs. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“I’d love one,” he said. “Bottle or box?”
I grinned. “Bottle, and I’d be grateful if you’d open it. It’s in the refrigerator.”
We nibbled on food as he poured, then we took our glasses to the balcony. The balmy night, with its southerly breezes brought us close together on the wicker loveseat.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” I said again, leaning into him. “How was the drive?”
“Not bad because I used the Commodore Barry Bridge.”
“I haven’t tried that way,” I said. “Is it any faster?”
“It’s just less stressful. You have a short stretch on I-95, but once you take that bridge into New Jersey, it’s easy driving.”
“You’ll have to show me.” I took another sip of wine and felt my own stress level decreasing.
The nerves were due to preparing for his arrival and preventing Rita from making too much food.
She’d told me not to worry because she intended to keep enough for her own enjoyment, which she apparently did since she liked eating meatballs dipped into the cheese sauce.
I had to admit it made a nice combination when we tested them. Brad, however, seemed to prefer the cheese with chips since he went back for a plateful of them, along with a few piggies and meatballs. He insisted they were for both of us.
I told him how Rita wanted me to take her to the grocery store that morning. “When she showed me her list as we pushed our carts, I couldn’t believe everything on it was for you.”
He laughed. “I think she likes me.” The thought tickled him.
“I’d say so. She’s making your favorite breakfast tomorrow morning, so don’t expect to sleep in.”
“What’s my favorite breakfast?”
“According to Rita, it’s her sausage casserole.”
He paused to think. “Oh, right. You made it this summer. It was pretty good, so I’ll look forward to that.” He leaned to nuzzle my neck. “And a few other things, too.”
I closed my eyes, breathing the scent of him. Eventually, he took a sip of wine, then leaned back. “I could get used to this,” he said.
“I know. Staying with Heather was nice, although I was a guest in her house. Renting this apartment from Rita has been so wonderful, and it makes me feel as if I have my own shore home.”
“I wish I could buy us one, honey, but I sank all my money into the landscaping business.”
I reached for his hand after hearing regret in his voice. “I didn’t mean it that way. I could live in a desert shack if we were together. I just meant the ocean air has been good for me.”
“I understand,” he said. “I feel the same way.”
We finished our glasses of wine at the same time, then leaned into each other on the loveseat. For the first time, I noticed how well we fit together, almost like jigsaw puzzle pieces. Every bony part of me met a softer crevice in him, and vice versa. I liked that.
We listened to the sounds around us—the rhythmic waves, the tinkling of someone’s windchimes, the purr of an occasional car driving along First Avenue—even as we spoke softly about the hopes and dreams of our future.
Brad voiced it first: “I believe we’re connected by destiny.” I agreed wholeheartedly.
I laughed to see Brad tiptoeing barefooted the next morning so he wouldn’t bother Rita in the apartment below us. We arose early to walk the beach before her special breakfast, figuring we could even wash the sand off our feet using her outdoor spigot.
We needn’t have whispered as we crept down the stairs. Rita had her kitchen door ajar while she prepared her casserole. The front blinds were open, as well. “I guess she’s awake,” Brad noted.
“All for you,” I teased. He didn’t look too embarrassed.
We left our shoes on the dune bridge as the rising sun drew us toward the ocean. Glimmers of light twinkled on the crests of waves while ribbons of muted colors danced in the sky. I was glad they didn’t look as if they foreshadowed a rainy day. Those whisps, I knew, would soon disappear.
Brad glanced toward Heather’s deck as we passed by. “Do you think she’s home?” he asked.
“Yes, although she’s probably getting ready to drive to the airport. Wyatt’s flight arrives around noon.”
“Is Alicia going with her?”
I raised my shoulders in a shrug. “To be determined.”
He took my hand as we strolled through the softer sand. “I would think she’s old enough to stay home alone,” he stated.
“That’s not the issue. Wyatt thought he should come right to Stone Harbor to see his grandmother before all else. He actually cancelled the rest of his itinerary after her trip to the hospital.”
“Good for him,” Brad said. “It’s obvious he cares about Rita, as well as Heather. Where will he stay tonight?”
I gave a mini-chuckle which probably sounded like a snort. “I won’t use Alicia’s vernacular, but she prefers not to stay in the same house with her mother’s boyfriend. Heather gave her the option of visiting her father in Philadelphia or spending the night with friends from high school.”
“Which did she choose?”
“Unfortunately,” I said, “her father gave her a lame excuse as to why he wasn’t available. Nor were the friends.”
He shook his head. “Ouch. Would Rita mind if Alicia stayed with her tonight?”
“No, though she thinks Heather’s daughter needs to grow up. I’m not getting into their business.”
“I don’t blame you.” He reached down to pick up a broken conch shell, saying, “This is cool.”
“Be careful. It might have a sand crab in it.”
He gave it an inquisitive inspection while shaking his head. “No, there’s nothing inside. I think I’ll keep it as a memory.”
For some reason, his response touched me.
Tony, my first husband, wouldn’t have picked up a broken shell in the first place, nor would he have kept it as memorabilia.
As a police officer, he felt it important to stay objective at all times.
In other words, he didn’t like anything schmaltzy unless it had to do with me or our son.
If I’d picked up the shell, he’d have warned me about sand crabs, so my response to Brad came from a distant memory. I had to let those go.
We continued on our walk for several blocks, demarcated by the dune bridges. Early dog walkers would always say hello as they passed by, others not so much. Most people liked the quiet time of reflection.
“Ready to head back?” I asked.
He paused to watch a seagull vie with another gull for prime fishing. The first one apparently came out ahead.
Brad nodded. “I’m ready, now that I picked the winner. Did you see that action?”
I laughed. “Obviously, you like challenges. Even the poor fish don’t stand a chance.”
He looked out at the sea. “If I were on a deserted island, I’d never survive. I admire any animal, humans included, who can use skills to outsmart the predator.”
“Is that your military training speaking?”
He took my hand again. “Probably, so enough of that. Let’s head back and have breakfast with Rita Bennett.”
I glanced at my watch. “I imagine she’s waiting for us.”
“Then, I’ll race you to the dune bridge.”
I tried to catch up, but the soft sand slowed me down. Still, I laughed, hoping Heather wasn’t watching us from her deck. We probably looked ridiculous, but we had fun.