She's Up to No Good(34)

It was a question preying frequently on Evelyn’s mind. There was the obvious concern about pregnancy, particularly with college looming. Papa’s shop did have prophylactics, but he kept them in a locked box under the counter, and he sold them only to married men and the sailors. Never to a woman. And Tony certainly couldn’t buy one anywhere in Hereford. Not if he was ever going to try to appeal to Papa.

There was also the question of where. The house on Main Street sat empty most of the time with everyone at the cottage and Joseph at work. But the neighbors were nosy and posed too big a risk. And a car for her first time was simply not an option. Tony would never agree to those choices either.

Tony himself was the final obstacle. Would he agree before marriage? Evelyn liked the idea of doing the deed before leaving for school. It was a way of promising herself to him. And moreover, she wanted to. A year earlier she couldn’t have pictured herself straddling a boy in a car and so desperately wanting his hands on every inch of her skin. And she knew, from what she could feel when she moved on his lap, that he wanted to go further too. No matter how much he argued that they shouldn’t.

Evelyn licked her bottom lip. “I don’t know yet.”

Vivie nodded sagely. “I’ll get you the book. You might need it.”

Laughing, Evelyn elbowed her little sister again. “There are things you can’t learn in books, you know.”

“I know. But I’m not brave enough until I go to college.”

“Good.” Evelyn leaned her head on her sister’s shoulder. “I’m glad you know about Tony though. I haven’t been able to tell a soul.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR





The Instagram notifications trickled in as we drove toward town. I scrolled through my feed briefly, not realizing it had been so long since I had posted anything. Life had, well, stagnated since Brad left. My social media feed had always been heavily curated to show what I wanted the world to see, and I definitely did not want anyone seeing that I was living in my childhood bedroom, convalescing from a failed marriage.

“Where are we going next?”

He inclined his head slightly, keeping his eyes on the road and squinting in the bright sunlight. “I was thinking we’d go to Main Street and walk around there today.”

“Today?”

He glanced over. “Yeah. Your grandmother—”

“Hired you to babysit me?”

“Are you always this suspicious?”

“When it comes to my grandmother? Yes. Did you know she doesn’t have a driver’s license?”

Joe let out a deep laugh. “I didn’t. But it doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“And she was going to drive herself here.” I shook my head. “She’s always up to something. And I’ve been on enough bad fixups from her to last a lifetime . . .” I trailed off. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He paused. “How many is enough?”

“Honestly not that many. But the last one—that was bad enough for several lifetimes.”

“What happened?”

I felt my cheeks turn red and didn’t answer. He looked over again at my silence. “Okay, now you have to tell me.”

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know you well enough for that story.”

He chuckled softly, looking back to the road. “I’ve got a goal for this week, then. I’m going to get that story out of you.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“We’ll see.” He glanced at me again, and I felt a strange flutter of excitement in my lower abdomen. Or the clams hadn’t been so good, after all. It was more likely that. Obviously.

Thankfully, he changed the subject. “Anyway, it’s not babysitting. She said she had some business.”

“Did she tell you what that was? She keeps telling me it’s her business, not mine, and then telling me stories about how in love she was with your great-uncle.”

“I have no idea why she’s here. Do you think it’s about Tony?”

I shrugged. “She said it’s not. But that’s most of what she’s told me about.” I paused. “Then again, with her it could all be a red herring.”

Joe parked near the bank that used to be my great-grandparents’ house and gestured down the hill. “I thought we’d go see the park,” he said.

The shops we passed were mostly nautical themed, about two-thirds of them in repurposed Victorian houses. I read the names as we walked. There were a handful of art galleries and artisan shops boasting handmade soaps. One advertised spells and charms.

“How far are we from Salem?”

“Little over half an hour. Why?” I gestured toward the shop. “Tourist trap. I went to high school with the owner. If she’s a witch, I’m Tom Brady.”

About halfway down, the hill leveled out, and we reached a small park with a playground, pear trees, flower beds, benches, and large rocks lining the edge that overlooked the hill leading to the water below.

This is what he wanted to show me? I thought, unimpressed. Yes, it was cool that it overlooked the water, and it was immaculate, but I didn’t see anything special about it. “It’s nice,” I said politely.