“We live in Sea Breeze, right next door to Abra. We’ll set it up, and we’ll catch up. How’s Hester?”
“Better. A lot better.”
“You tell her we miss her in yoga class. I’ve got to run—ha ha—and pick my kids up from a playdate. Welcome back, Eli. I’m glad to know you’re back at Bluff House.”
“Thanks.”
“Talk to you later, Abra. Hey, Mike and I plan on having a date night at the Village Pub on Friday. Talk Eli into coming.”
With a quick wave, she ran off.
“I didn’t realize the two of you knew each other,” Eli began.
“BFFs.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s not just for teenagers. And BFFs of any age tell each other everything.”
He started to nod, then she saw it hit him. “Oh. Well.” He slid his sunglasses back into place. “Hmmm.”
With a laugh, she gave him a poke in the belly. “Sweet and sexy teenage secrets.”
“Maybe I should avoid her husband.”
“Mike? Absolutely not. Besides hitting very high on my personal scale of adorable, he’s a good man. A good daddy. You’ll like him. You should drop into the pub Friday night.”
“I don’t know it.”
“It used to be something else. Katydids.”
“Right. Sure.”
“It went downhill, I’m told. Before my time. New name, new owners the last three years. It’s nice. Fun. Good drinks, good crowd and live music Friday and Saturday nights.”
“I’m not really looking to socialize.”
“You should. It’ll help with that stress level. You smiled.”
“What?”
“When you recognized Maureen, you smiled. A real one. You were happy to see her, and it showed. Why don’t you walk with me?” She gestured up the beach in the direction of her cottage. Rather than give him a chance to decline, she just took his hand, began to walk.
“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Since the last massage.”
“Good. You were right, I usually feel it some the next day, but that eases off.”
“You’ll get more benefits when we finally break up those knots, get you used to being loose. I’m going to show you some yoga stretches.”
No, she couldn’t see his eyes, but she could see the wariness of his body language. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s not just for girls, you know.” She let out a long sigh.
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m having a mental debate with myself. Whether or not I should tell you something. And I think you have a right to know, even though it’s probably going to upset you. I’m sorry to be the one to upset you.”
“What’s going to upset me?”
“A man came in to talk to me after my morning class. A private detective—investigator. His name’s Kirby Duncan, from Boston. He said he has a client there. He wanted to ask me questions about you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? It’s not okay. He was pushy, and he said he’d compensate me for information, which I find personally insulting, so that’s not okay. It’s harassment, which is also not okay. You’re being harassed. You should—”
“Tell the cops? I think that ship’s sailed. Hire a lawyer? I’ve got one.”
“It’s not right. The police hounded you for a year. Now they or somebody’s hiding behind lawyers and detectives to keep on hounding you? There should be a way to make them stop.”
“There’s no law against asking questions. And they’re not hiding. They want me to know who’s paying for the questions, the answers.”
“Who? And don’t say it’s none of my business,” she snapped out in case he tried to. “That jerk approached me. And he implied I refused to cooperate because we had a personal relationship, which easily translated to sleeping with you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.” As he’d pulled his hand free, she just grabbed it again. “You won’t be sorry. And if we did have a personal relationship, the kind he meant? It’s none of his damn business. We’re adults, we’re single. And there’s nothing wrong, nothing immoral, nothing period about you moving on with your life. Your marriage was over before your wife died. Why shouldn’t you have a life that includes a relationship with me, or anyone?”
Her eyes, he noted, turned a particularly glowing green when she was angry. Really angry.
“It sounds like this upsets you more than me.”
“Why aren’t you angry?” she demanded. “Why aren’t you seriously pissed?”