Secrets in Summer(37)

Sunday, she and Nash met friends at the beach. That evening Darcy and Nash showered and glammed up for an art opening at the Artists Association of Nantucket. The place was packed, both downstairs and upstairs. The art was wonderful, landscapes and seascapes and abstracts and sculpture and jewelry, a sumptuous display of what the talented islanders had done over the winter. Small red dots indicating “sold” were everywhere.

Nash stopped to talk to a friend. Darcy slipped upstairs, wineglass in hand, to look at the new pieces; but as always, she met friends, and spent more time talking than looking at the art.

She was in the corner, studying a landscape, when a man behind her said hello.

She turned. It was Clive Rush. Handsome Clive Rush, in a navy blazer that set off his tan and made his fabulous smile flash.

Well, hello, sailor, Darcy thought in her best Mae West inner self. She was glad she was wearing her long turquoise skirt with its thigh-high split and her nearly sheer white sleeveless blouse. “Hi, Clive. Where’s Mimi?”

He laughed, as if he had been confronted with this defense mechanism before. “She’s downstairs, surrounded by admirers, and drinking far too much wine.”

“At her age, I don’t think there is such a thing as too much wine.”

“I like this landscape,” Clive said, gesturing toward a painting of a salt marsh with a small wooden bridge over water. “But I can’t place it.”

“It’s Madaket Harbor, near the marina. On the western end of the island. Mr. Rogers had a house out there.”

“Mr. Rogers? There’s someone I haven’t thought of for a long time. My mother made me watch him when I was a child. She thought it would calm me down.”

“And did it?” She smiled, looking up at him. He certainly was pleasant to look at.

“I believe it did. Before I forget, next Tuesday night the Musical Arts Society is hosting a pianist who’s performing an interesting mix of classical and contemporary. I’m going to take Mimi and we wonder if you’d like to go with us.”

Darcy paused. There was that “we wonder,” so would this be considered a date? Or could she tell Nash she was accompanying a darling older woman and her grandson? Should she even worry about what Nash thought? They hadn’t talked about dating each other exclusively. “I’d like that very much.”

“Good. I’ll tell Mimi. She’ll be thrilled.”

“Why don’t you both come for dinner before,” Darcy offered on the spur of the moment. “I’ll make something light so we can get to the concert on time.”

“Great. How’s six o’clock?”

“Perfect.”

They smiled at each other, and the temperature in the room seemed to shoot up about a hundred degrees.

Clive said, “I’d better check on Mimi. It was nice bumping into you tonight.”

“Me, too,” Darcy said. That makes no sense, but at least she spoke in English. Fireworks were exploding in her mind, not to mention her body. Probably Mimi told Clive to invite her. Or he wanted to have someone help maneuver his grandmother up the hill and into the Congregational Church with all its steps.

Or maybe he liked her. She wasn’t making all that electricity by herself.

She walked on to gaze at a seascape for fifteen minutes, trying to sort out her thoughts, which weren’t thoughts so much as feelings—lust, mostly. A large male hand slid around her waist, tugging her out of her daze.

“Oh!” Darcy cried, startled.

“You must like that seascape, you’ve been staring at it so long.” Nash kept his hand on her waist as he checked out the upstairs for more friends.

“I do like it,” Darcy said. “Do you?”

He took the time to study it. “Yeah, I do. It’s a good depiction of the ocean during a nor’easter. I wouldn’t mind having that in my house, looking at it every day.”

“I know. It’s complicated, with lots of movement.”

“Well, don’t like it too much,” Nash told her. He pointed to the round red dot next to the painting that indicated it was sold.

“Ah, well…” Darcy pretended to pout.

Nash pulled her closer to him. “Don’t worry. Whenever we get a good storm, I’ll drive you out to the beach to watch. We’ll take off our shoes and run in the waves.”

“Well, there’s proof you belong on the island. Everyone I know goes crazy when a storm hits.”

“I go crazy when I look at you,” Nash said.

Darcy gazed up at Nash for a few moments, speechless with pleasure at his words. Did he mean what he said? If he did, what did that tell her?

“Time for dinner?” Nash asked.