Secrets in Summer(103)
“You’re absolutely right. The problem is, I’ve got nothing sexy to wear.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. Put on one of your sundresses, the one with the halter top. That looks fabulous on you—”
“I’ve worn it so often this summer—”
“You don’t seriously think that man keeps track of how many times you wear something, do you? Anyway, stop procrastinating, throw something on, and get to the party.”
“I’m not sure…it’s hard to come into a party alone, Jordan.”
“You can do it. Put on your big girl panties and sashay in. I’ll wait for you on the deck.”
“Thanks, Jordan. I’ll be there in five.”
She had already put on her makeup. In the summer she seldom wore much except lipstick and mascara, but for the party—for seeing Nash again—she’d gone full force with eyeliner and blush and perfume. She was wearing the halter dress Jordan had suggested. It was crimson crepe, formfitting at the top, with a flowy skirt. It set off her tan and made her figure look its sexiest. She wore dangling silver earrings that floated against her dark hair, and a thin silver bracelet on her upper arm. She knew she looked as good as she could, but she was on the verge of hyperventilating.
She wanted to be with Nash so badly. After all they’d shared this summer, after he had told her about his brother’s death, after all their intimate conversations, he couldn’t just walk away.
Her phone rang. She saw the caller ID and answered.
“Clive, is Mimi okay?”
Clive laughed. “Yes, and I’m fine, too.”
“Sorry, I—”
“No, no, I appreciate how you worry about Mimi. She isn’t her normal self yet, but I think she’s gaining strength. She’s sleeping right now.”
“Oh, good. Clive, I can’t talk. Sorry, but I’m just leaving for a birthday party.”
“How late will you be out?” Clive asked, a certain warmth to his voice.
What does that matter? Darcy almost said—and then she understood what he meant. It gave her a twinge right in her stomach. Was he phoning in hopes of getting a few minutes of quick “consolation”?
“Because,” Clive continued, “the Perseid meteor showers are still going on. They’re supposed to be an astonishing sight. I was hoping I could drive you out to a dark beach and we could lie on a blanket and look up at the sky. A weathercaster said it will be like watching shooting stars.”
Impatiently, Darcy said, “Sorry, Clive, I’m not sure how late the party will go, so I’d better decline, although that really is a marvelous idea.”
“The meteor showers continue tomorrow,” Clive told her. “Maybe that would work for you.”
“Oh, well, let me see what my schedule is. Sorry, but I’ve got to leave now. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
Darcy hurriedly gathered her purse and car keys, dropped some treats in Muffler’s bowl, and went out to her car. Because she’d told Clive she was leaving for a party, she felt obligated to leave at once, since he could watch from his window to see if she was true to her word. Not that she thought he would check up on her—that would be ridiculous. Even so, she drove away from her house, and once she’d turned the corner, she pulled over to the side of the street, put the car in park, pulled down the mirror on the visor, and took a moment to double check her reflection. Yes, she’d put her eyeliner on evenly and her lipstick was perfect…
…and her heart was cantering away beneath her red halter-top dress like a racehorse at the finish line.
She took a few minutes to do deep-breathing exercises. She didn’t want to come on to Nash carelessly, as if this were some kind of game. No, she’d spent a lot of time thinking about Nash, thinking about how she felt not only about him but about her life, her entire life.
Years ago, she’d hoped to become the director of the Boston Public Library. Not that she believed she could achieve such a goal when she was young, no, but she’d daydreamed about how it would go as she climbed the professional ladder. Her plans had not included being the assistant children’s librarian at a small but distinguished library on an isolated island. Her plans had also not included being enchanted by Nantucket and her way of life here, but Fate had sideswiped her, spinning her around so that she understood she was meant to live here, in this small community, walking to work, gossiping with Tita and Vilma and Robin at the post office, strolling to the docks to view the grand yachts flying flags of other countries, helicopters and Jet Skis riding on their upper decks, or stomping through snowbanks in the winter to watch Bill Blount’s famous old fishing vessel come in to harbor from the storm.