“You okay?” Frank glanced her direction.
She called up a perky smile and tackled the next hole. “Fine.” But a change of topics was in order. “By the way, I think you would have enjoyed the national parks presentation. The photos were spectacular, and the speaker’s stories about his adventures taking them were entertaining.”
Although she kept her attention fixed on the wall, in her peripheral vision she saw him give her a surreptitious perusal.
Maybe she shouldn’t have brought up the event he’d declined to attend, but why not chat about a subject he was interested in—and one far less personal than their previous line of discussion?
“You went?”
“Of course. I thought it would be fascinating, and it was.”
“I didn’t think that topic would be your cup of tea.”
Ah.
He thought she’d chosen the lecture for his benefit.
Only partially true.
“I’m trying to broaden my horizons now that I’m retired. And after hearing you talk about your vacations to national parks, I realized there’s a whole world out there I’ve never experienced. The presentation whetted my appetite to see a number of those places in person.”
He went back to work without responding.
But a couple of minutes later, when she peeked over at him, there were faint furrows on his brow. As if he was surprised she’d have any interest in outdoor activities.
In truth, her Atlanta upbringing hadn’t given her much exposure to the natural world. Nor had her corporate treks taken her anywhere but large metropolitan areas. She’d always been a city girl through and through.
Yet smaller towns—like Hope Harbor—had much to recommend them, as she was discovering.
And from the photos she’d seen during the presentation, nature had as much beauty to offer as any of the art museums she’d visited on her global travels.
While the back-to-nature leisure pursuits Frank and his wife had enjoyed had never been on her radar, if she was committed to expanding her horizons, why not include them?
There wasn’t much opportunity to do that in New York City, but she could go see the places that had caught her eye.
However . . . it would be much more fun to go with someone. Especially someone who already knew how to navigate that world.
She checked out Frank again as she scooped more spackle from the container.
He could be a candidate for that role—if she was willing to alter her retirement plans, give up the lifestyle she’d envisioned.
Was she?
Too soon to say.
And how would she ever find the answer to that question unless she got to know him better?
But that wouldn’t happen if he kept turning down her invitations.
Give the man a break, Stephanie. He may see no point in getting involved with a woman who’ll soon be leaving. If he thought you were willing to hang around awhile—and consider a permanent move—the outcome could be different.
Hard to refute that argument.
Still . . . it would be safer to remain friends.
Yet she’d played it safe in her personal life for more than forty years.
Could it be time to listen to her heart—and entertain the notion of altering the retirement plans she’d assumed were locked in stone?
A critical question.
One she needed to work hard to answer before she wore out her welcome with Zach and found herself winging away from Hope Harbor and back to the East Coast.
Today had not played out as he’d expected.
Frank flipped the single piece of salmon destined to be his Wednesday dinner, closed the lid on the small grill, and ambled over to the edge of the patio.
The house he’d purchased in Hope Harbor might be modest, but the view was world-class. From this last dwelling on the short block that dead-ended at the sea, he could take in the mouth of the river to the south, rocky Little Gull Island offshore to the west, and to the north, Pelican Point light on the soaring headland.
Breathtaking didn’t begin to do the scene justice.
If he wanted a view like this at a fancy hotel, he’d pay megabucks.
Fancy hotel.
Like the kind Stephanie would have frequented during her career.
He rubbed the back of his neck and followed the progress of a pelican overhead, its orange beak a splash of brightness against a low-hanging white cloud.
Stephanie.
He sighed and wandered back to the grill.
Turning down her invitation should have sent a definitive signal that he wasn’t interested in a dating relationship.
And the message had apparently been received. She hadn’t done anything today to imply she intended to try again. Her manner had been amiable, nothing more.
He was the one who was suddenly having second thoughts about drawing the line at friendship.
Spatula in hand, he opened the grill lid and turned the fish again. Almost ready. Time to get the baked potato out of the oven and nuke his veggies while the entrée finished cooking.
Back inside, he went about those chores by rote while his mind churned with weightier matters.
Namely, Stephanie Garrett, and how she fit into his life.
No.
The question was whether she should fit into his life.
Trouble was, the image he’d formed of her early on kept crumbling.
Today was no exception. Seeing her in work attire, hair mussed, fingernail polish chipped, wielding saws and crown molding and putty knives like a pro . . . that had been a shock.
She’d also gone to the national parks lecture without him—proving she truly had been interested in the topic.
He picked up his plate, returned to the patio, and transferred his salmon from the grill to the crockery. Once seated at his table for two, he said a short blessing and began to eat.
In general, he enjoyed the view over the water.
Today, the empty chair got in the way.
And the fresh salmon he always relished lacked its usual flavor.
Or was it his life that lacked flavor?
Sure, he had a job he enjoyed at The Perfect Blend, and chatting with the regular customers gave him social interaction—as did his volunteer gig at the lighthouse. Plus, his work with Helping Hands fed his soul.
But after thirty-seven years of marriage, it was hard to come home at night to an empty house—and a solo dinner.
That, however, wasn’t sufficient justification to get involved with someone.
Except . . . it was more than that with Stephanie.
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
From the get-go, she’d made him feel young again. Revved his engines. Added a spark to his days.
Young love was a distant speck in his rearview mirror, but near as he could recall, this was exactly how he’d felt when he’d fallen for Jo Ann.
So what was he supposed to do about it?
Mouth flattening, he put a pat of butter on his baked potato. Watched it melt.
Moving to New York wasn’t an option. Heck, he’d feel like Crocodile Dundee—if anyone even remembered that old movie.
And a woman with a long-term lease wasn’t likely to uproot herself without any guarantees, even if she felt the zing as much as he did.
He poked at his salmon . . . then dropped his fork onto the table and sat back in his chair as two seagulls wheeled overhead.
What a dilemma.
If he did want to test the waters, it would be up to him to initiate it. Stephanie had made the first overture, and she didn’t strike him as a woman who’d push once she got a negative response. On an interpersonal level anyway.