“She was carrying your father when we did the work. Everybody who’s lived in Bluff House put their stamp on it one way or the other. What are you planning?”
“I haven’t thought about it. It’s my grandmother’s house.”
Stoney smiled, nodded. “Bring her back home.”
“That I am planning on. Maybe you could give me a better idea where those passages were.”
“Can do better.” Stoney picked up a bar napkin, rooted a pencil out of his pocket. “My hands aren’t as handy as they once were, but nothing’s wrong with my brain cells or memory.”
They closed the place down. Though Stoney outdrank him two for one, Eli was damn glad he wouldn’t drive home. And just as glad when Stoney told him he was on foot.
“We’ll give you a lift,” Eli told him.
“No need for that. I barely live a Stoney’s throw from here.” He cackled at his own joke. “And it looks to me like I’ve got another Landon eyeing my girl.”
“I don’t know if this one can fix my screen door.” Abra tucked her arm through Stoney’s. “I’ll take Eli’s keys and drive all three of us home.”
“I didn’t bring my car. I figured I’d ride home with you.”
“I walked.”
Eli frowned down at her high black heels. “In those?”
“No. In these.” She pulled a pair of green Crocs out of her bag. “And it looks like I’m putting them back on because we’re all walking home.”
She changed her shoes, zipped into a jacket. When they stepped outside she took each man by the hand. “Looks like I won tonight’s jackpot. Two handsome men.”
Both of whom, she thought as they walked, were just a little bit drunk.
Over his objections, they detoured to walk Stoney to the door of his trim little house. The sound of high-pitched barking sounded before they were within two yards.
“All right, Prissy! All right!”
The barks turned to excited whines. “The old girl’s half blind,” Stoney said, “but she’s got her hearing. Nobody gets past old Prissy. You two go on now. Go do what healthy young people ought to be doing on a Friday night.”
“I’ll see you Tuesday.” Abra kissed his cheek.
They strolled away, but waited until the lights switched on before veering back toward the shore road. “Tuesday?” Eli asked.
“I clean for him every other Tuesday.” She hitched her bag more securely on her shoulder. “He and his Mary, I never got to meet her. She died five years ago. They had three kids. A son and two daughters. The son’s in Portland—Maine—one of the daughters lives in Seattle. The closest one is in D.C., but they manage to visit him pretty regularly. And there’s grandchildren, too. There are eight, and five great-grandchildren so far. He can take care of himself, but it doesn’t hurt to have somebody right here looking in from time to time.”
“So you clean his place every other week.”
“And run errands. He doesn’t do much driving anymore. His next-door neighbor has a kid about ten who’s crazy about Stoney, so he rarely gets a day when somebody’s not dropping in or calling. I’m fairly crazy about him myself. If I marry him, he’s promised to build me my own yoga studio.”
“I could . . .” Eli considered his carpentry skills. “I could have a yoga studio built for you.”
On a flutter of eyelashes, she tipped her face up to his. “Is that a proposal?”
“What?”
She laughed, curled her arm through his. “I should’ve warned you Stoney has an impressive capacity for alcohol. He likes to say he was reared on the whiskey of Whiskey Beach.”
“We were switching off. He bought the first round, so I bought the second. Then he bought a third, and I felt obligated. I don’t quite remember how many times I felt obligated. There’s an awful lot of fresh air out here.”
“There is.” She tightened her hold when he weaved a bit. “And gravity, too. This place is lousy with air and gravity. We should get inside. My place is closer.”
“Yeah, we could . . . except I don’t like leaving the house empty. It feels wrong.”
With a nod, she forgot the shorter walk. “It’s good for you to walk in the fresh air and gravity anyway. I’m glad you came in tonight.”
“I wasn’t going to, but I kept thinking about you. Then there was the whole Easter thing happening.”
“The Easter Bunny came already?”
“What? No.” Now he laughed, the sound rolling down the empty street. “He hasn’t finished laying the eggs yet.”