51
Elodie had long prided herself on her executive function. She not only had the ability to plan ahead, but to think two steps ahead of anyone else around her. Now, suddenly, she found herself two steps behind: The auction was not going as she had planned, and her room rental expired at the end of the week. She was surprised to find she didn’t want to leave.
Partly because of work, but mostly—if not all—because of Tito.
She didn’t want to admit this to anyone, not even to herself. Instead, she kept up the ruse that she wanted to open a Pavlin & Co summer outpost. Fortunately, the owner of the building was dragging her heels, so Elodie hadn’t been forced to actually do anything yet.
Inside the Barros house the electricity was restored from yesterday’s blackout; a fan whirred in the corner of the kitchen and the bright numbers on the stove clock blinked. But Lidia was nowhere to be found.
In the upstairs hallway, Tito stepped out from his bedroom with Pearl trotting behind him.
“She came running into my room,” Tito said, smiling. “I think she was looking for you.”
Elodie bent down and patted her stout little body and Pearl licked her hand.
“Shall we take them for a walk?” Elodie said.
He shook his head. “The mechanical sorter they use for the oysters is acting up, so I’m going to see what I can do. But how ’bout dinner tonight?”
Elodie looked up in surprise.
“Sure. That sounds lovely.”
“I’m thinking we can go somewhere dog-friendly so we don’t have to worry about a sitter,” he said with a wink. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
“You’re picking me up? We live in the same house.”
“Well, that makes things easy now, don’t it?”
Her heart beat fast watching him leave. And to think, just a month ago she thought that work would be the only thing getting her out of bed in the morning. Look at her now—excited as a high schooler invited to the prom. But her time at the house was coming to an end unless she hurried up and extended her room rental. She had to find Lidia.
She leashed up Pearl and walked her out to the dock. The heat had let up, beaten back by the wind blowing off the bay. Crowds of tourists were lined up for seal-watching tours and boat rentals. Lidia, wearing bright orange coveralls and water boots, helped Marco pull mesh bags full of oysters off a small boat and into waiting ice coolers. Her back was to Elodie but Marco noticed her and called out, “Hey there, Elodie.”
Lidia turned around for a moment but went right back to feeding oysters into the ice bath. Elodie walked closer.
“Lidia, sorry to interrupt,” she said, talking loudly over the rumble of a nearby boat motor. “I just wanted to say I’m going to take the room for the rest of the summer. I can give you the check whenever you want later but I just didn’t want you to—”
Lidia looked stricken. “Oh, Elodie, I’m so sorry. I rented it out the day before the Fourth weekend, when you gave me notice you were leaving. I have new tenants moving in next week. But I think it’s great that you’re staying—just wonderful!”
Now what? She understood the town enough by now to know that finding another room would not be easy.
Tomorrow, she would have to go back and speak to that horrid little man at the real estate office. For now, she would stay focused on the positive.
She had a date tonight.
The restaurant Connor wanted to take her to, the Red Inn, was fully booked.
“I should have thought ahead,” Connor said. “Of course, they don’t take reservations. It’s right on the water—totally historic. President Roosevelt and his wife stayed here when they came to lay the cornerstone of the Pilgrim Monument in 1907.”
When Connor first arrived in town to start getting the gallery ready during the off-season, the locals had plenty of time and energy to share all sorts of Provincetown trivia. Now, with the summer in full swing, it was conceivable for someone to spot their spouse on the street and barely muster a wave hello.
“It’s fine—honestly. Takeout is great.”
Gemma wasn’t in the mood for a crowded restaurant. After the unexpected visit from Sanjay, she’d considered canceling her plans with Connor. But she couldn’t give in to that impulse.
Connor’s kitchen island was filled end to end with platters of chicken parmesan, pasta, and salads from Liz’s Café on Bradford Street. They took their food to the front porch, drinking white wine out of clear plastic cups.
“This house is really spectacular,” she said, trying to find something positive to say, to think—to feel. She couldn’t let herself slide into a funk.
“It’s pretty perfect,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. “That’s why I made an offer on it.”
She looked at him in surprise. “It’s for sale?”
“Isn’t everything? For the right price, of course,” he said with a wink.
He talked about the gallery and more Provincetown trivia. She liked looking at him while he spoke, the assurance of his gestures and the way he smiled as he told a story. Still, she felt her mind drifting.
“I’m sorry. What was that?”
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Oh, everything’s great,” she said.
“Let me guess: You hate takeout.”
“No,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’m just distracted. Family stuff.”
It was partly true.
He made a “give it to me” gesture with his hands. “I know all about ‘family stuff.’ What’s going on?”
She hesitated. But after the New York Times article, there was no use worrying about discretion.
“My aunt—not the one with the store, her sister—is auctioning off jewelry that’s been in the family for generations. My mother died when I was young, and she left me her engagement ring. I was afraid it was going to be part of the auction, but it’s worse than that: My grandparents sold it years ago.”
“That’s awful,” he said, putting his plate down on the ground and reaching for her hand. “Have you talked to a lawyer?”
She shook her head. The thought never crossed her mind. Who could afford a lawyer? “I’m trying to track down the ring to start figuring out if I can ever get it back. Or even see it again. I know it’s a long shot but I need to feel like I’m doing something about it.”
“Well, you should go to the auction,” he said.
“Why would I do that?”
“If there’s something you like, bid on it. That way you can at least have something from the collection.”
Did he imagine she had that kind of money?
“I’ll go with you,” he said.
She laughed. “That’s really sweet. But it’s not for a while. And I’m not going.”
He leaned forward and rubbed her knee. “Think about it. I’m more than happy to give you moral support. And I love a good auction. Maybe I’ll bid on something. You’ll have to tell me what’s worth investing in.”
Their eyes locked and she felt a powerful surge of desire. He leaned forward and kissed her so lightly it was like she imagined it. All at once she was tired of being cautious or protecting herself. She pulled back just enough to set her own plate on the ground, and then moved to his chair, onto his lap. They kissed again, more deeply, and her thoughts disappeared—she was all sensation.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” he said, his voice husky.
The question was like a record scratch. She felt the wall go up, her insides tightening like a fist. She took a deep breath, looking at Connor. He was definitely a man who was used to getting what he wanted. And by a third date, sex wasn’t an unreasonable ask. But she couldn’t do it.
We agreed to be friends, right?
“Things are moving a little fast for me,” she said.
He looked surprised—maybe even a little annoyed. But he quickly recovered. He reached for her hand.
“No problem. I can wait. You, Gemma Maybrook, are worth waiting for.”