“I understand. Why do you think I’m single?” His smile was so compelling she found herself smiling back.
“I thought maybe you stayed single so that you could cause the maximum amount of gossip amongst the locals.”
“There is pleasure in that, I admit.” He waded a little deeper. “Do you want to swim?”
“Here? Now?”
“Why not?”
“I’m not dressed for it.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you swim in your clothes. Leave them on the beach. Keep your underwear on if you’re shy.” He said it so casually that for a brief moment she considered it.
Then she came to her senses.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Swimming is the most natural thing in the world. And swimming in the sea is the best feeling. What’s ridiculous about it?” He studied her. “Do you ever do anything spontaneous, Liza?”
“No.” Although coming to Oakwood Cottage had been spontaneous. And so had her decision to visit him today to apologize in person. Both actions had required her to dig deep. “Occasionally.”
“And how does it turn out when you do?” He was standing disturbingly close to her, and she took a step back, flustered by his teasing.
“I’m not sure. Ask me in another week.” Instantly she was embarrassed. That made it sound as if she was expecting to meet up regularly.
“I’ll hold you to that. Come and swim on my beach. Bring your bathing suit.”
“Are you staying here all summer?”
“Until September. Then back to LA.”
She couldn’t imagine living such a globetrotting lifestyle. “Why hadn’t you written for a year?”
He paused. “I lost someone close to me.” He turned and strolled back to the shore, leaving her wishing she’d kept silent.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Death is part of life, isn’t it? Doesn’t make it easier, though.” He crouched down by a rock pool. “Seaweed is algae, not a plant. Did you know that?”
“No.” She crouched down next to him, but it didn’t feel awkward. It felt companionable.
She was ashamed of herself for all the assumptions and judgments she’d made about him.
The pool was teeming with life. Tiny hermit crabs darted under the shelter of the seaweed. Limpets and mussels clung to the rocks, and anemones wafted in the still of the water. She could have watched it for hours, but the tide was licking at their heels, reminding them that it was about to claim back the beach.
Finn rose. “We should go before the tide turns. Having already had a run-in with the police, I don’t want to add the coast guard to the list.”
“You get an extra-massive lemon meringue pie if you have to call the coast guard on my account.”
He laughed. “I’m tempted to throw myself in the water. Who taught you to cook lemon meringue pie?”
“I taught myself. My father was a practical cook—” She paused. “Actually he was a terrible cook. He cooked on the highest heat, so everything was burned. My mother traveled a lot, so I took over. I enjoyed it, but to alleviate boredom I liked to experiment.”
They walked across the sand and back to the tiny path that snaked up to the garden.
“Is everything you make as good as your lemon meringue pie?”
“I hope so.” The path was steep, and she was already out of breath. She needed to make time in her life to take more exercise.
“In that case, invite me to dinner.” He held out his hand and pulled her up the last section of the path.
She hadn’t planned to cook, but for some reason she liked the idea of cooking dinner for Finn. She’d had a more honest conversation with him in the last hour than she’d had with anyone in a long time. His company had lifted her mood. Why not? He’d obviously been a good neighbor to her mother and she would thank him by cooking him something delicious.
“Are you allowed out without security?”
“You can protect me.” He smiled. “I’ll walk across the fields. No one will see me.”
The dogs bounded round the garden, snarling, barking and tumbling over each other as they played.
“In that case come for dinner on Friday.” It would be a chance to indulge her love of cooking, and she hadn’t done that in a while. Meal preparation was usually another chore at the end of a long list. “What’s your favorite food.”
He picked up the cups they’d abandoned on the table and carried them through to the kitchen. “I eat everything. I’ll bring wine. We can discuss the painting you’re going to do for me.”
Liza was already planning dinner. The heat wave was predicted to continue, so they could eat outdoors. She’d use vegetables from her mother’s garden.
“Here—” Finn handed her the bag she’d brought. “I’m glad you came over.”
So was she. It had stopped her stewing on what was happening with her family and made her think about life in a way she hadn’t before.
Feeling lighter, she’d walked back down his drive, along the lane and across the field that led to Oakwood Cottage.
She stayed in the house long enough to put the bag in the kitchen and pick up her car keys.
What had he said?
You have a corporate look about you. I wouldn’t have guessed artist in a million years.
Her clothes didn’t reflect who she was, they reflected the life she lived.
Having a neutral wardrobe with pieces that matched meant she had fewer decisions to make in a day that was packed with them. What would she choose to wear if she wasn’t driving the girls around, rushing to the supermarket, teaching a class?
Determined to find out, she drove to the village, parked the car and walked along the twisty high street until she reached the small boutique that was nestled between a bookshop and the deli.
With a touch of defiance, she pushed open the door. When was the last time she’d shopped for herself? Too long ago.
The shop was cool and spacious, with mirrors covering two walls. For a moment Liza saw herself as others probably did. Straight blond hair that settled on her shoulders, a narrow face and blue eyes. If she had to find one word to describe her look it would be ordinary. Her clothes didn’t say “look at me,” they said “don’t look at me.” And it wasn’t even as if she intended to send any message at all with the way she dressed. She had enough to do without thinking about messages.