Driftwood Point (24 page)

Lis refused to dwell on the fact that sometimes it appeared that Owen had inherited the ability.

She shook it off and went back upstairs to work.
The sketch of Ruby she'd started a few days earlier was on the table. She picked it up and studied it, then put it aside. She'd work on that more when she and Ruby sat down to chat later. That painting would be for herself. The watercolor painting of the island would be for Ruby, and she wanted to finish that first.

Her phone was buzzing to alert her to an incoming text message, and she picked it up.

Congrats again on a great exhibit. Celebrate tomorrow? Parade starts at nine.

Lis frowned. Parade? What parade?

She looked at the date on her phone: July 3. Tomorrow would be the fourth.

St. Dennis always had a huge parade to commemorate the Fourth of July, but as a child she'd never been permitted to attend and she'd never been back on that particular holiday.

Love to. Meet you there.

A minute later, Alec replied.

We'll never find each other. Will walk over to Ruby's around 8:30.

If all she'd heard about the parade in the past held true, he was probably right.

It's a date. See you then.

She smiled, picked up her brush, and turned her focus to the view out the window and the colors that were swirling around in her head.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he local high school band marched along Charles Street behind the ancient baby-blue convertible carrying this year's Miss Eastern Shore that led the parade.

“That's some car,” Lis observed.

“A 1957 Olds Super 88,” Alec told her. “She's a beauty. You don't see fins like that these days.”

“Well, I think it's safe to say they don't make 'em like that anymore.”

“No, but when you see one that's been restored the way that one has, you have to admit, that's a beautiful machine.”

“It is.” Lis pointed at the band coming along next. “Oh, look! Bagpipes!”

“Don't have to look to know bagpipes are on the way.”

“I love the sound of the pipes. My dad used to play them,” Lis said.

“He did?”

“All the men in my family played bagpipes.”

“Somehow I don't see Owen playing the bagpipe.”

“Well, except for Owen. But he did play the violin.”

“Didn't see that coming, either.”

“He wasn't very good at it.” Lis laughed. “Don't tell him that I said so. He thought he was quite the virtuoso.”

A seemingly endless sea of kids of all ages on bikes festooned with red, white, and blue crepe paper streamers followed the pipe band. Behind the bikes came the strollers similarly decked out in crepe paper streamers, their little occupants dressed in patriotic finery. Next came a string band from Philadelphia, and then a World War II tank.

“Where do you suppose they got the tank?” Lis asked.

Alec shrugged. “No telling. I think my aunt Grace was on the committee this year, so I can ask.”

The parade went on for a respectable thirty minutes, with bands from all over and different organizations represented by floats and marchers. By the time the local middle school jazz band went by to end the parade, most of the onlookers were done—well done, because the temperature had risen to ninety-three humid degrees and they were standing in direct sun. Alec ducked into Sips, where he stood in line for fifteen minutes to buy cold drinks behind a lot of other hot, thirsty parade-watchers.

“Sorry it took me so long,” he said as he returned with two large bottles of cold water. “The place is jammed.”

“No surprise there. Thanks.” Lis pulled the elastic
from her hair and redid her ponytail, lifting it higher in an attempt to keep it off her neck. Alec handed her one of the bottles and she took a long drink. “That was one heck of a parade. Thanks for bringing me. I enjoyed the festivities.”

“Babe, you haven't even begun to see festivities. That was just the appetizer.” He took her hand and led her toward the center of town.

“Where are we going?” She noticed everyone else was headed in the same direction.

“First to the park, where we'll watch the little kids run footraces and toss water balloons at each other and carry raw eggs on spoons while we eat ice cream and try to keep from passing out under this merciless sun and talk to people we haven't seen since last year's parade. The agenda hasn't changed in fifty, sixty years.” He looked down at her. “You seriously never did a St. Dennis Fourth before?”

She shook her head.

“Well, after the games and the socializing, we go back to the inn. We have lunch on the terrace and then we go down to the water and sit on the grass and watch the sailboat races. That will take us to around three o'clock, at which time we will probably fall asleep in the shade of one of those big old trees. After that, we have dinner—they do a barbecue for the inn's guests and the family always grabs a plate before the fireworks start.” He paused. “What did you used to do on the island to celebrate the Fourth?”

“Nothing like what you all do on this side of the bridge. Mostly it was just watching one of the big-city parades on TV and a barbecue in the afternoon.”
She shrugged. “Most years we'd go out on someone's dad's boat to watch the sail races in the afternoon, and at night we'd sit out on the pier and watch the fireworks from St. Dennis and from across the bay.”

“Guess you didn't have much of a marching band.”

“Very funny. A couple of the kids from the island were in the school band. Everyone's parents weren't as prejudiced as my dad was.”

“What about your mom?”

“My mother didn't much care one way or the other. I had the feeling that when she was younger, she tried to buck the system, defy my dad, but I don't think that ended well for her.” Thinking about the relationship between her father and her mother made her sad, and she said so. “We didn't have the happiest home life. I think my mom was getting ready to leave my dad when he got sick. She stayed till the end, then she left to go as far from the Eastern Shore as she could get. She has a friend who lives in Mesa, so she went out there to visit and decided to stay.”

“That was senior year, right?”

“Right. My dad died in July following our junior year, and as soon as the dust settled, my mom left for Arizona. I didn't want to go because I had one more year left in high school and I couldn't see starting over somewhere else as a senior. So I stayed with Gigi. After graduation, I did visit Mom, but it was just too hot and I missed the bay, and I missed Gigi, so I came back.”

“And promptly left for college.”

“Art school in Philly,” she told him.

“I remember seeing you one day that summer at the library here in town.”

“You did? Did we talk?” Lis was pretty sure she'd have remembered.

“No. I was with a bunch of the guys, and since they'd never let me forget that you turned me down for the prom . . .”

“Oh God, you remember that.” Lis covered her face with her hands. “I was hoping you'd forgotten.”

“A guy doesn't forget rejection like that.”

“I am so sorry.”

Alec shrugged. “It was my own fault for being so cocky. It never occurred to me that you'd say no. In my own foolish head, I thought you'd be dying to go with me.”

“I was.”

“Was what?”

“Dying to go with you. It never occurred to me that you'd ask. Which is why I had nothing to say after I said no. I knew I wouldn't be allowed, but I really wanted to, and it was too hard to explain in front of everyone.”

“Is that why it took you so long to respond?” Alec tried to make light of it. “It seemed that in my head, I heard that Final Jeopardy music playing while I waited for you to answer. And of course I expected your answer to be yes.”

“I wish I could have said yes.”

“Did you go with someone else? To the prom? I remember looking for you but never did see you.”

“Jerry Willets asked me.”

“Now, that I would have remembered.”

“I stayed home.”

“Seriously? You didn't go?”

“Seriously. What was the point?” Lis shrugged. “Get all dressed up to go someplace I didn't want to be, with someone I didn't want to go with? It was easier to stay home.”

“Did you go senior year?”

She shook her head no.

“So you've never been to a prom?”

“Nope.”

“Not even in college? Homecoming dance? Sorority formals?”

Another shake of the head. “I didn't join a sorority.”

“So are you as antisocial as you sound?”

“I'm really not.” Lis laughed. “I had friends and I had a good time in college, but I was really focused on my art classes. You may not have noticed, but the art department in our high school left a lot to be desired. When I got to Philly and had all these incredible instructors, it was like someone had turned the lights on after I'd been sitting in the dark for a long, long time. I had a ton of raw ability but I'd had very little direction. I got that in Philly.”

“Did you date?”

“What kind of a question is that? Of course I did.”

“A lot?”

“Enough.”

“Did you have a steady guy?”

“Sometimes. How about you?”

“I did it all. Fraternity. Homecoming. Sorority date nights. Played lacrosse.”

“And somehow you still managed to graduate?”

“I did.”

“Were you lucky or were you that smart?” As soon as she said it, she remembered just how smart he'd been in high school. It was one of the things that had attracted her to him back then.

“A little of both, I guess.”

They reached the park and filed through the open gates along with a few hundred others. The distance to the playing fields where kids would compete for prizes and medals wasn't far, but it took twenty minutes or so, because they ran into so many people who complimented Lis on her paintings, or who asked Alec how the boat renovations were coming along.

“Does everyone in town know about that boat?” Lis asked.

“Pretty much. Not much goes unnoticed around here.” He put his arm around her waist. “Like right now, Nita Perry is telling Barbara Noonan to check out Alec Jansen and Lis Parker. The game is always on around here.”

“What game?”

“Telephone. By this time tomorrow we'll be engaged, and by Thursday we'll be expecting our first child.”

They reached the middle of the park, where an announcer stood on a wooden grandstand and made announcements. The footraces for the four- and five-year-olds would begin right after the national anthem and the Pledge of Allegiance. A girl in her late teens who'd been a finalist on one of the televised singing
competitions sang and the leader of the local grange hall led the pledge.

“Want to watch the races?” Alec asked her.

“Sure.”

They made their way to the makeshift track and cheered for no one in particular, then stayed for the races for the ten- through twelve-year-olds. The temperature continued to soar, and finally Alec told her, “They're giving out ice cream over by the grandstand if you—”

She didn't wait for him to finish. “Yes. Anything cold.”

“We don't have to stay till the last race has been run, you know. We can leave whenever you want.”

“I kind of want to stay, despite the heat. I haven't been before, so it's new to me. If you're bored, though, we can go.”

“I thought maybe you were bored.”

“I'm enjoying it. The kids all seem to be having a great time.” She glanced around at the crowd. “The adults, too.”

After another hour had passed, Alec said, “We can pack it in anytime now. They're not giving out prizes for staying till the end.”

Lis nodded, and they walked to the back entry to the park.

“If the marsh wasn't there,” he told her when they came to a stand of cattails, “we could walk straight over to the inn instead of going all the way out to the road and down the lane to get there.”

“It's a nice walk, now that we're in the shade. I don't mind. But I think I should get back to Gigi's.”

“Why? She isn't there.”

“She isn't?” Lis frowned. “How do you know?”

“Because she's at the inn. Ford was going to pick her up after the parade, but Owen said he'd bring her. I thought you knew.”

Lis shook her head. “When you live with Gigi, it's one surprise after another.”

“She'll be at the inn all afternoon, right up to the fireworks. She said she loved fireworks and hadn't seen any up close in a long time, so my aunt invited her to spend the day at the inn.”

“I didn't see Owen this morning before we left, so I didn't know what anyone's plans were. I wonder if Owen went to the parade.”

“I guess you can ask him. I imagine he'll stay for the barbecue.”

They reached the end of the marsh and stepped onto the shoulder of the road. Another twenty steps and they were at the winding lane that led to the inn. Already a crowd had gathered on the lawn and the smoke from several large grills was drifting upward. The tennis courts were filled, people were dragging kayaks and canoes down to the water's edge, and several teenagers sped past them on bikes headed toward the road.

“I had no idea there was so much going on here.” Lis looked around as if she were lost. “And I always thought of the inn as an old building with peeling paint.”

“That was before Dan decided to make it
the
place to go on the Eastern Shore. There's a beautiful playground for the younger kids and a lot of activities
for the older ones. You can take tennis lessons or learn to sail or take out a kayak or one of the canoes. There are activities for every month of the year. Like in November, the chef runs a cooking class weekend where you can learn to make dishes that use the local catch from that morning. December, Laura from the flower shop comes in and does a wreath-making day.” Alec smiled. “There is no grass growing under my cousin Dan's feet, that's for sure. And I should add that since Lucy came back from California, the wedding business here has skyrocketed. There are weddings every weekend, sometimes during the week as well.”