Chapter 6
Her feelings were strong; but she knew how to govern them. —Sense & Sensibility
Elinor
I am half-way down the hall to the kitchen when I realize Edward isn’t following me.
I spin around and march back to the porch.
He stands facing the ocean, his hands spread on either side of him resting on the porch railing.
Sunset is still a couple hours off, but the pre-sunset show of golden sky and dazzling water is impressive.
“Hey!” I call as I approach.
“Sorry,” he turns his head slightly to acknowledge me. “I should have followed. But this view!” He lifts up his arms wide as if to hug the shimmering ocean. “How can you walk by? I could stay out here all day.”
“And it would be a different sky and sea every hour.” I stand next to him. “Trust me, I love this view. I never tire of it.”
“What is it about the horizon that draws our attention?” he asks, again staring out to sea.
“My dad used to say it’s the closest we get to seeing the future. And I suppose that’s true. If you sail out far enough west you will cross over to tomorrow.”
“Huh, that’s really nice,” Edward says, his eyes still on the horizon. “Your dad said that?”
“Yeah, I’m not sure if he read it in a book or came up with it himself. He was a voracious reader. He was always reading aloud to us. That’s probably why my sister decided to become a poet.”
“She’s a poet?” He turns to me, surprised. “Like, that’s her job?”
“Well, she also grows flowers and plays piano. But yeah, when Annie marks her profession on a form she writes ‘poet.’”
“And does she make any money doing this?”
My laugh is a little cynical. “No, not yet. But that’s my family. They are the most delightful dreamers. I’m the boring one.”
“I don’t think you’re boring.” Edward gives me a slow smile—and goodness, the man has a dangerous smile!
It’s the opposite of a generic megawatt grin you’d find on billboards and toothpaste commercials.
His smile is subtle and personal. The faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes do the heavy lifting, his lips twitching just slightly, like we are both in on the same wonderful secret.
“Um . . . uh . . . thank you,” I stammer.
“Elinor—Oh, hi! Who is this?” My mom asks with delight as she steps out onto the porch wearing a floral apron over a concert tee. Her hair is piled in a wild curly updo and tied with a yellow scarf.
Edward steps forward. “Hi, I’m Edward Frechette. I came in place of my mother, Barbara Norland.”
“Oh! Of course! Eddie.” My mom throws her arms around a very surprised Edward, who looks more startled than uncomfortable. “You’ve grown so tall.” She steps back, looking him up and down. Some of the flour from her apron remains on his lapel. “And handsome.”
Edward looks away, embarrassed. Flustered Edward might be my kryptonite—he’s so utterly charming.
“But your mom’s not coming? I was looking forward to catching up. It’s been years.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Greenwood, you’ll have to put up with me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is such a treat! And please, it’s Maggie. None of that ‘Mrs. Greenwood’ with me. Elinor, you remember Eddie? He once spent the summer here at the park with his grandpa.”
“Um . . . yes . . . we figured that out,” I mumble.
“You two were so stinkin’ cute playing together. Elinor’s always had a knack for making friends. But you two . . .” She looks between us, beaming. “You were two peas in a pod.” She leans in to Edward confidentially. “You know she cried after you left?”
I give my mom a not-so-subtle close-your-mouth glare, but she prattles on undaunted. “The girls had a nickname for you. What was it?”
“I . . . I don’t recall,” I jump in. “I barely remember any of this.” I am not above lying to preserve my dignity.
“Of course you remember. You girls talked about him all the time.” Edward gives me a look. “What did you call him? Something like ‘Hot Boy’ or ‘Our Boy.”’
“We did not call you ‘hot boy’ I swear.”
Edward’s eyes sparkle with humor, but his mouth remains serious. “No, of course. I doubt anyone’s ever called me that.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” exclaims my mom. “You’re very good looking. Isn’t he, Elinor?” Fortunately, she carries on without waiting for my answer. “And you’re staying here tonight?”
“If that’s alright with you?”
“Of course it is. It’s better this way.” My mom’s eyes flick to mine with meaning which I aggressively pretend not to understand.
“So Eddie, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Um . . . I’m here to tour Norland Park. My mom’s busy right now, so she sent me to have a look.”
“Well, Elinor’s the one to talk to about the park. She knows everything there is to know about it.”
“Oh good, you’re both home!” Annie calls from the garden below. “You wouldn’t believe what I found in my tip jar.” She skips up the steps, then stops short upon seeing Edward. Her eyes go wide. “Hello! Who are you?”
“This is Edward,” I say. “Barbara Norland’s son.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He puts out a hand to Annie. “What did you find in the tip jar?”
“Oh, this guy left me his number,” she says as she shakes his hand.
“And I don’t know who it was. I have two suspects: one cute and one not so cute.
I’m Annie by the way.” My sister’s looking especially radiant, with the setting sun catching her red hair.
But Edward doesn’t seem to have fallen under the spell the way other men do. His eyes are already back on me.
“Edward’s here to tour the park,” I explain, “and to give us the very good news that we don’t have to move—yet.”
He gives me a funny look when I say yet. And maybe I’m being too cynical, but my relief still feels fragile. After weeks of bracing for disaster, I’m not entirely sure I trust such sudden good news.
“What was the name of that boy you and Elinor used to talk about,” my mom asks Annie. “Was it ‘Cute Boy’ or ‘Farm Boy’?”
“You mean The Boy?” Annie clarifies. “Why?”
“The Boy?” Edward repeats with glee. His eyes catch mine.
“Yes, like Laurie from Little Women,” explains my sister. “He was Elinor’s first crush. She was in lurve with him!”
I close my eyes and take a breath before I say, “Edward was—or rather, he is—The Boy.”
“No way!” Annie exclaims. “You came back. Talk about a glow up.” She rests a hand on Edward’s bicep.
I feel the need to swat her away. The only consolation is how uncomfortable Edward looks.
“This is too good!” she bounces on her heels.
“Did you come to see Elinor? You know she cried when you left?”
“So I hear.” Edward’s laughing eyes meet mine. And there’s nothing to do but laugh at the awkwardness of it all.
“Annie, unhand our guest. I’m going to show Edward his room.” I feel territorial about Edward, which is a novel feeling for me and a little bit absurd—especially since I plan to do nothing about said feelings.
“I’d better finish dinner,” says my mom, heading into the house. “Annie, can you help?”
“Of course. Rumor has it you’re making fried chicken.” She follows my mom into the house.
“The Boy, huh?” Edward asks as soon as the screen door shuts behind my mom.
“Don’t go getting a big head. We called you that because we were reading Little Women that summer”
“And because you had a crush on me,” he teases.
I swat his arm lightly. “Shut up.”
“Don’t worry, Ellie,” he leans closer and whispers in my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. “You were my first crush too.”