Libby walked around the bar to the sink and turned on the water. “At Helen’s party. We went for a walk. He actually wanted me to jump in fully clothed!” She flicked water in the basin and dried her hands on the kitchen towel. “I wouldn’t do it, but he did! Stupid man.” She grabbed a bean from the plate and snapped off an end.
Catherine laughed, holding beans in both hands. “What did everyone say?”
“You know how this town is. I’m sure they had more thoughts than what was actually being said. No one said much of anything at that moment.” Her mind moved to the end of the party and how distant Pete seemed. Perhaps it was best that he was being distant.
Catherine pulled out a large pot, filled it at the sink and put it on the stove to boil.
“Where’s Scott?” Libby asked, snapping another bean.
“He’s out with the guys since you were coming over. I think they’re all coming back here later tonight.”
She wondered if Pete was with him. Will Pete be coming back tonight as well? she asked herself. Don’t even think about it. She took another drink of wine.
Chapter Seventeen
“So, other than Pete jumping into the sea fully clothed, is there anything else interesting going on between you two?” Catherine said as she dropped the beans into the pot of boiling water. “Sorry. I’m being nosy—but I can’t help it.” Catherine took a sip of wine, pulled a small bowl out of the refrigerator with some sort of homemade dressing in it and whisked it with a fork. “There hasn’t been anyone in Pete’s life since he dated Allison Bradley.”
Libby had to keep her mouth from dropping open. It was as easy as light conversation, but Catherine had just dropped a bomb on Libby. She’d always wondered about who Pete may have dated, but now she had a name, and it was someone she knew, someone she could visualize. Jealousy smacked her right in the face.
“Allison Bradley?” She had been top of their class. She was very pretty with long, dark brown hair, a heart-shaped face, and deep brown eyes. Libby shouldn’t care one way or the other whom he dated, so why did it bother her? It did, though. A lot. Although he’d probably dated all kinds of people, seeing Allison’s face in her mind, her hand holding Pete’s, made her stomach feel queasy.
She didn’t want to think of his smile, the warmth in his eyes—any of it—directed at someone else. So many times when she first got to New York, and the nights brought her feelings of loneliness to the surface, she’d imagined the way he used to look at her. Had he been looking at Allison when Libby had been thinking about him? It made her shudder.
“Now that you’re back, he’s been out and about all over the place. I see him everywhere!”
“Is he coming tonight?” She couldn’t help herself. The wine on her empty stomach was causing her to voice more of her thoughts than she usually would. And she wanted to see him. His behavior since the end of the party was troubling her. She didn’t like it at all. Being near him and getting to experience that again made being without it a lonely feeling. He made her feel happy, and she hadn’t felt happy about much lately.
“Probably not. I don’t think he can leave his grandfather alone that long. Scott said Pete really worries about him.” She strained the steaming beans and added the dressing, tossing them around until they were coated in it. Then she set the bowl in the refrigerator and pulled out a silver bucket from the bottom shelf.
“Well, it’s time to go and catch our dinner. Follow me.”
“Are we going crabbing?” Libby asked, nearly unable to contain her excitement at the sight of the bucket. She had loved crabbing as a girl. She used to go to Pop’s pier and crab with him. He’d taught her how, and she’d never forgotten. There was nothing like it. Catherine’s mere mention of it caused reminiscence of those days: Don’t let it pinch ya, he’d said. You need all those pretty little fingers. Tap it like this…
Catherine refilled their glasses to the very brim. “I’m hoping Scott gets home by the time we have to get them into the steamer. He’s already put the crab bucket and things out on the pier for us. Get your wine. I’ll take the bait.” She grabbed her own glass and opened the door.
After they’d waved to the ladies in the living room, they left the house and walked down the drive toward the road. The sun was beginning to set, painting streaks of orange in the pale blue sky. “The weather’s been warm, so I hope we get lucky and catch a ton.”
Libby looked both ways down the winding road at the end of the drive. There was nothing for miles; the double yellow lines stretching out as far as she could see. They crossed and made their way through a path in the woods, walking carefully, Libby’s wine sloshing slightly in her glass. Through the last thin line of trees, the pier came into view.