Mack stopped at the air pumps to fill his tires to the right pressure.
As he got back into his truck, he said, “I worry about Beth.”
Lisa glanced at him. “You do?”
“Yeah. She’s twenty-five and she’s never brought home a guy for me to meet.”
“Maybe she’s been seeing guys she doesn’t want you to meet,” Lisa suggested with a smile.
“Maybe. But I’m afraid I haven’t given her a good example of what a relationship should be like. What a marriage should be like.”
Lisa nodded. “I know what you mean. I worry, too.”
“Do you think it ever stops? The worrying?” Mack asked.
“No. I don’t think it ever stops,” Lisa replied. “It’s hard work, loving someone. But it’s what makes life worth living.”
Mack glanced over at Lisa with a smile. “True. And sometimes it can be a lot of fun.”
And there it was again, the heat between them. The connection.
When they came to her house, he helped her carry her beach bag of leftover cookies and beer to the kitchen door.
“Thanks for the lovely afternoon,” Lisa told him. “I feel like summer’s almost here.” Bashfully, she added, “I think you got some sun.”
“So did you. Right here.” He touched her cheek and Lisa almost fainted.
“Looks good on you,” Mack said. “So, um, work tomorrow. I’ll see you first thing.”
“Yes, tomorrow,” Lisa agreed.
four
Monday morning Lisa was in her bedroom trying to decide what to wear. Something casual and dignified, but sexy. Was that combination even possible? She wanted to crawl back in bed, curl up in the covers, and read. But already she heard Dave and Tom stomping around downstairs, tuning their radio to a rock station.
A knock sounded loudly at her bedroom door.
Lisa usually wore a long T-shirt to bed, which was what she was wearing now. She had no bra on. No shoes, no makeup, and she hadn’t dealt with her hair. She reached for her red silk kimono. It would do for a cover-up.
“Come in,” she called as she tied the sash.
Mack stuck his head in. “Good morning.” He wore carpenter’s pants and a flannel shirt.
“Good morning.”
“I’ve brought coffee.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Mack entered the room. “Can we talk a moment?” he asked as he handed her a to-go cup.
“Of course. Um, should we go downstairs?” When he stood close to her like this, Lisa couldn’t think.
“Let’s stay up here. I don’t want Dave or Tom to interrupt. I’ll sit in the chair, okay?”
Lisa laughed. “If you can find room among the clothes. Just toss them on the floor.”
Mack sat on the chair. Lisa perched on the side of the bed, waiting.
“Look, Lisa, I don’t know exactly how to say this, but I want to get things straight. About us, I mean.”
Oh, dear, Lisa thought. Here it came, the kind but firm dismissal.
“I like you, Lisa. A lot. I’m not sure what we’ve got going, but I don’t want to go into it lightly. I think we have fun together. Yesterday at the beach…I think we’re good for each other. We’ve both been single for a long time, and…I’m not saying I want to be permanent. It’s too soon for that. But I want us to be exclusive.”
Lisa nearly spilled her coffee. “Yes,” she said. He was so handsome. It was his jawline, and his eyes, and his lashes. And his lips. “Me, too.”
Mack smiled. “I want us to go out together. I mean to dinner, to movies.”
“You want to date,” Lisa said, smiling. She felt warm all over.
“Well, and more than date,” Mack said.
“Yes.”
“I’m too old to play around,” Mack said. “I want to make love to you. But I don’t want to rush into this.”
“Lord!” Lisa exclaimed, losing her cool. She set her cup on the nightstand and stood up, her hands on her red-hot cheeks. Her face must match her robe. “Mack, you’re really…”
“Blunt? Honest? Candid?”
Lisa walked across the room toward the window, needing the distance. “Yes, all of those things. And I’m glad. I’m grateful. And I want everything you say. But, Mack…” Lisa paused and summoned up every speck of bravery in her entire being. “I’m fifty-six years old.”
Mack shrugged. “How is that relevant?”
“Because you’re only forty-six.”
Mack laughed. “I don’t think that matters. Do you?”
“Well, yes, yes, I do think it matters. People will talk—”
“People will talk anyway.” Mack stood up.
Lisa frowned. How could he not understand how significant the difference in their ages was?
“Let me take you out to dinner Friday night,” Mack said. “The Seagrille should be open. We can take our time, drink some nice wine, and get to know each other better. Okay?”
Lisa felt like she was shining. “Okay.”
“I’m going down now to talk to the boys. About work.”
“I’ll be down soon. I need to dress. I feel kind of wobbly,” she admitted.
“Drink your coffee,” Mack told her with a grin.
Was this happening? Lisa thought after Mack left the room. She wanted to call Rachel and giggle like a little girl. She wanted to break into song and twirl around her room like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music.
She pulled herself together, finished her coffee, and got ready to open her shop.
* * *
—
Not many restaurants were open at the end of May, but the Seagrille was always good, and Lisa hoped she and Mack would be given a booth instead of a table. That way, perhaps, they could have some privacy. They had arrived early because they both had to work the next day.
The waitress, Sally Hardy, knew them both. She did give them a booth, and for a few moments, as Lisa and Mack settled themselves, looked at the menus, and tried to act normally during their first real romantic date, they were alone. But quickly, as other diners entered the restaurant, friends and acquaintances stopped to say hello. Their greetings were short and casual—how are you, the weather’s getting better—but Lisa knew that some of the women would start texting their friends the moment they sat down.