“Oh, my dear, you have no idea. Nantucket means summer to me. I didn’t think I’d be able to come to the island this summer—this past year has been rough on my ancient carcass. I’ve been living in a retirement home. Not assisted living. I can still take care of myself, bathe and cook and so on. But if I need someone immediately, a doctor or a nurse or simply a strong man to help me if I’ve fallen, all I have to do is press a button. Of course, they take care of the outside—shoveling snow, mowing the grass—and I have a housecleaning service and a food delivery service, so I’m not really dependent. But I don’t have the same sort of help available here.” She paused to catch her breath. Her eyes twinkled when she continued. “I am going to stop talking, I promise. I’m not one of those poor lonely creatures who babbles on endlessly when they’ve managed to trap someone. The point is, I had resigned myself to missing summer here, and then my marvelous grandson said he’d come here with me, and stay with me, for two entire months!” Mimi pounded her cane into the ground for emphasis. “How lucky is that?”
“I’m so glad for you.”
More eye twinkles, and Mimi sort of playfully cocked her head to the side. “He’s handsome, too. And single. Well, divorced.”
Darcy laughed.
“Of course any grandmother would say that about her grandson, but wait till you meet him.”
Darcy tried to derail her from the grandson topic. “Do you ever visit the library?”
“My dear young thing, I used that library before you were even born. I’m a compulsive reader, always have been. One of the benefits of getting older is that I forget what I’ve read, so I have a world of choices.”
“We have a lot of programs going on, too. Lectures in the Great Hall—and I’m sure you know there’s an elevator in the building now that goes from ground level in the garden up to the main floor and on up to the Great Hall.”
“Oh, yes, I use that elevator and—” She broke off when the front door of her house opened and a man stepped out.
“Clive!” Mimi called. “Come meet our next-door neighbor.”
Darcy’s polite smile softened as the man approached. Clive Rush was handsome. Broad shouldered, muscular, dark haired, brown eyed—and unhurried. It was rare to meet a man her age who wasn’t in a hurry. Darcy made a silent bet with herself: He was not a lawyer, business executive, or Wall Street trader. And he was here for two months with his grandmother? Nice, Darcy supposed, but also kind of weird.
He held out his hand. “Clive Rush.”
“Darcy Cotterill.”
“She’s a children’s librarian,” Mimi piped up. Turning to Darcy, she announced, “Clive is a compulsive reader, too.”
Darcy usually kept her distance from summer people. Okay, “keeping her distance” was the wrong phrase, because the houses, like all Nantucket houses in town, were built close together. But Darcy tried to be friendly, yet reserved. It was a necessity for self-protection. She had a life. Her schedule was full. She was not, like the summer people, on vacation.
Still, if Clive asked Darcy to spend an evening with Mimi so he could go out to a movie or a party, Darcy wouldn’t mind doing it. Mimi was adorable, and Darcy would bet she knew a lot of Nantucket history.
“Nice to meet you, Mimi, Clive.” With one last smile at Mimi, Darcy turned away.
Few Nantucket houses had lawns in the front. Most houses bordered right on the sidewalk, as Darcy’s did, which was a wonderful thing, because in just a few seconds, she walked up her front steps and entered her house.
She headed into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of the iced tea she kept in the refrigerator. The cold liquid was bracing, but Darcy wanted a drink. She preferred a glass of red wine while she cooked or when she was settled in front of the fire with a good book on a snowy winter night, but tonight, for some reason, Darcy wanted to drink with a friend.
She also wouldn’t mind showing Mimi and her grandson that she wasn’t some spinster librarian bowled over by Clive’s good looks.
Muffler jumped off the kitchen counter and sauntered up to her, purring and waving his long soot-black tail.
“Yes,” Darcy said to Muffler. “You’re right. I may be a spinster librarian with a cat but I’ve got a gorgeous hunk of a lover.”
She called Nash. “Come over for a drink?”
“I’m there.”
Nash was a man of few words. Easygoing, a hiker, a traveler, a new guy in town, unattached and untethered to the usual duties and expenses of men his age. He said he’d come to Nantucket because the money was great and he liked construction work. Darcy suspected there was more to his story, but she didn’t pry. Nantucket was a prime spot for people to invent themselves. He would tell her when he was ready.