Whiskey Beach(53)
“Hester’s . . . I hate using ‘spry,’ because people use that for old people, and it’s almost insulting. But she is. Plus, I bet you’ve never seen her in a yoga class.”
“No, I haven’t.” And wasn’t sure his mind could take it.
“She’s got great balance. She can hold a tree pose, and Warrior Three, and . . . What I’m saying is she’s not wobbly or shaky. Not that she couldn’t have fallen. Kids fall downstairs. But it just didn’t seem like Hester.”
“She doesn’t remember,” Eli commented. “Not the fall or even getting out of bed.”
“That’s not unexpected, right, not after hitting her head that way. But now we know you’ve had somebody sneaking into the house who’s crazy enough to dig in the basement, I wondered about it. And whoever it was who broke in put some bruises on Abra. If she hadn’t fought back, known what to do, he could’ve hurt her more. If he’d do that, he might’ve scared Hester or he might’ve even pushed her.”
“Round two!” Abra carried the tray to the table. “Uh-oh, solemn faces.”
“We were just talking about Hester, and the break-in last night. I wish you’d stay with us for a couple nights,” Maureen fretted.
“He broke into Bluff House, not Laughing Gull.”
“But if he thought you could identify him—”
“Don’t make me agree with Mike.”
“I do not read too many mysteries. I read your short stories,” she told Eli. “They were great.”
“Now you leave me no choice but to get this round.”
Abra laughed, gave him the tab. She ran a hand casually over his hair, left it on his shoulder.
Maureen gave Mike a light kick under the table.
“Maybe Eli could come talk to our book club, Abra.”
“No.” He felt panic lodge in his throat, gulped some beer to loosen it. “I’m still writing the book.”
“You’re a writer. We’ve never had a real writer at book club.”
“We had Natalie Gerson,” Abra reminded her.
“Oh, come on. Self-published poetry. Free verse. Terrible self-published free-verse poetry. I wanted to stab myself in the eye before that night was over.”
“I wanted to stab Natalie in the eye. I’m taking five,” Abra decided, and leaned a hip on the table.
“Here, sit down.” Eli started to rise, but she just nudged him down again. “No, I’m good. Eli never talks about his book. If I were writing a book I’d talk about it all the time, to everyone. People would start to avoid me, so I’d seek out complete strangers and talk about it until they, too, avoided me.”
“Is that all it takes?”
She gave him a punch on the arm. “I thought about writing songs once. If it hadn’t been for the fact I can’t read music, and didn’t have any song ideas, I’d’ve been great.”
“So you turn to acupuncture.”
She grinned at Eli. “It’s an interest and, since you brought it up, something I was going to talk to you about. I need to practice, and you’d be perfect.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“I could work on a release of tension, and an opening of creativity and concentration.”
“Could you? In that case, let me think about it. No.”
She leaned toward him. “You’re entirely too close-minded.”
“And needle-puncture free.”
She smelled heady, he realized, and she’d done something dark and dramatic to her eyes. When her lips curved, all he could think of was the way they’d felt against his.
Yeah, one big, greedy bite should do it.
“We’ll talk.” Abra stood, took her tray and walked over to a neighboring table to take an order.
“Don’t be surprised to find yourself lying on a table with needles sticking out of your bare flesh,” Mike warned him.
The hell of it was, he wouldn’t be surprised. At all.
He stayed more than an hour, enjoyed the company. It occurred to him he wouldn’t have to argue with himself the next time he considered dropping into the bar.
Progress, he decided, as he said good night to Maureen and Mike, and headed out.
“Hey!” Abra bolted out after him. “You don’t say good night to your friendly waitress?”
“You were busy. Jesus, get inside. It’s cold out here.”
“I’ve got heat to spare after running around in there for the last three hours. You looked like you enjoyed yourself.”
“It was a nice break. I like your friends.”
“Maureen was your friend before she was mine, but yeah, they’re the best. I’ll see you on Sunday.”