When Scout picked me up, I let Dad see the car come down the driveway, but I didn’t tell him it was a date.
“Who’s that now?” he asked when he didn’t recognize the driver.
“Um, I think it’s Scout,” I said.
“Scout. I didn’t realize he was in town.”
“Yeah, I guess he is,”
“Well, where are you going?” he asked. Suddenly he cared.
“Just to hang out with the Tooheys as usual.” Tooheys, Toohey. What’s the difference if there were five, fifty, or just one.
“O-kay,” he said slowly, staring at the car in the driveway, the unseen driver sitting motionless, the motor running.
“See ya!” I shouted and ran out the front door.
Scout had the good sense not to kiss me in the driveway but reached over instead when we pulled out onto the road. He held my hand as we drove the few minutes back into town, by the collection of the little shops and right by the Captain’s Catch.
“Hey! You passed it.”
“Don’t worry. I promised you a Captain’s Catch dinner, and you are going to get one, but yours will be at the very best table in town.”
I wondered if we were headed for the compound. Had the cousins gone home? Would Grannie be there? Probably the table on the patio outside the living room was the best table in town.
But no, we went right by the Big House. I snapped my head around as we passed its driveway. It was the last house on the point.
Scout slowed the car as the road narrowed. The asphalt gave way to rutted dirt, and maple branches choked with bittersweet reached out to grab at the car as we drove on.
I sat up straight in the seat, peering out the windows.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you trust me?”
Did I?
We came to a rusty chain-link gate across the road. Scout got out and moved the chain that made it look locked and opened the gate. He shut the headlights off, and we drove in. The vegetation soon gave way to the mowed field around the old lighthouse.
“Are we supposed to be in here?” I asked.
“Relax,” Scout said. “We’re in the process of acquiring it.”
“I thought someone was going to turn it into a bed and breakfast?”
“As if Grannie would allow that to happen. Can you imagine? No, she put me on that right away.”
“So your family owns it now?”
“Not yet.”
“So it’s still ‘No Trespassing. Property of the US Government’?” I asked.
“Yeah, but it’s okay.”
Scout got out, and I stayed in the car for a moment but felt stupid, so I followed him into the lighthouse.
He lit a candle, then another, and another, and a lantern, and soon, I could see he had set up a table for us, with flowers, fine china, and a view that spanned the harbor out to the ocean.
He opened a cooler that was on the floor nearby.
“Still warm,” he said and presented me with a foil take-out pan from the Captain’s Catch. I opened it. Calamari. He handed me another. Eggplant parmesan. And another. Spaghetti bolognese.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like Italian?”
“Something doesn’t seem right. Is that all there is?”
“How many dinners did you want?”
“Well, the eggplant comes with garlic bread. Where’s that? And where’s the sauce for the calamari? And it’s Tuesday … what did they do with your free mozzarella sticks?”
“What—do you have the whole menu memorized?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“Wait a minute. Are these leftovers?” I asked, considering the small portions.
“No. Yes. Not really. I took Gran there yesterday for dinner. I ordered extra knowing I was going to see you. Anybody can take you to the Captain’s Catch. I wanted to make this special. Have a romantic dinner here away from everyone. So while we were there yesterday, I ordered some things to heat up for tonight. I knew that I wouldn’t have enough time to get all this ready and get the food and pick you up … Come on, it’s getting cold, and I have no way to heat it up again.”
The eggplant parm was good, but not the calamari, which never tastes good on the second day, no matter what you do to it.
“Memorizing the menu. You’re not like other girls,” he said to me.
“How’s that?”
“Other Keech Town girls might be saying, ‘oh, take me to the compound, when can I meet your family.’ Things like that. And you’re not dropping a mint on new clothes. I’ve seen you in this blue dress how many times now?” He said and stuffed a wad of spaghetti in his mouth.
“I have already been to the compound, and I already know your family.” I had nothing to say about the dress. I had no choice there.
“Yes, of course. Don’t get me wrong, I like that about you.”
I thought it was a rude comment. So I thought I would ask a rude question of my own.
“If you are the oldest, how come you are not going to take over the Company?”
“Ha. Well, that’s a good story,” he said, refilling my wine glass. “I got a ‘get out of jail free’ card.”
“A what?”
“Yup. Once that Harvard acceptance letter came, I was excused from service. I got the fast flush to freedom,” he said and laughed. “And the Harvard thing was a total fluke.”
“How so?”
“I go into the SATs, and I sort of know some of the answers. My dad was all about me going to Catholic college, so I had no motivation to do well on the tests … about ten minutes into it, I start just filling in random circles. I stopped reading the questions! And lo and behold, I get 1520! That plus family connections got me into Harvard. I only stayed a year. Finished up at University of Rhode Island. Don’t tell anyone my secret. I have a reputation to protect.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Yeah, what do you know?”
“You’re the golden boy. There’s a story in town that you stopped traffic on Water Street with your looks.”
He threw back his head and really howled.
“I know exactly what you are talking about. It wasn’t me they were stopping for. It was a turtle. There was a turtle in the middle of Water Street! I would have picked it up, but it was a snapper.”
We both laughed and he was about to move in for a kiss when I noticed police lights on Water Street. Across the harbor, they seemed like little more than just another twinkling light, but they were blue and seemed to be floating silently through town.
“That’s weird,” I said, pointing to the lights.
“Probably a drunk tourist.”
“Nope, looks like they’re heading to Hazard Point Road.”
“Shit!”
He blew out the candles and the lantern and stacked the china plates with the food scraps still on them, wrapped everything in the tablecloth, and shoved the whole thing with a big clank into the cooler, and then threw the still smoking candles in on top.
“Get in the car,” he shouted, and I ran outside and got in the passenger seat. He tossed the cooler in the back, and it landed with a loud crash of its contents—I hoped that wasn’t the Alden’s heirloom dinnerware. We drove out, leaving the gate wide open. He sped through the vegetation, which scratched the pretty finish on the car.
We were just passing the driveway to Grannie’s house when the police car came up in the other direction. Scout waved to the officer, Tim’s dad, who slowed the cruiser and rolled down the window.
Scout stopped the car and opened his.
“You see anything out here tonight? We had a call about lights on out at the lighthouse. It’s probably nothing, but I figured I’d better come out here and see, since it was more than the usual one or two calls. Usually, it’s your Aunt Pixie who says she sees lights.”
“Take that with a grain of salt.”
“We usually do. No disrespect.”
“None taken.”
“But tonight, there were about five calls, and the Feds are twitchy about this land, so I figured I’d better come and make sure the kids haven’t found a new place to get drunk.”
“I appreciate that. Whew, that’s all we need.”
“No problem. Goodnight, Claire,” he said. And with that, we drove off in our respective directions.
“You said it was okay for us to be out there.”
“And it was. We didn’t get caught.”
“It wasn’t my idea to go there! Generally, when a man asks a woman out to dinner, she can safely assume they’re going to a restaurant, not trespassing on federal land.”
We sat in silence for a moment as the car rolled along Hazard Point Road.
“Take me home.”
“Are we having our first fight?”
“You really are an a-hole.”