Surfside Sisters(30)

Sometimes the island did this, beckoned her. No, summoned her. Ever since she was a child, she’d had these unexpected impulses to get outside, be near the water, be with the natural world. And she’d read that sometimes taking a break from your work made you work better the next day.

Keely drove to Washington Street, surprised the kid who was just starting to set up for the day, and rented a one-person kayak. She fastened her life vest, rubbed more sunblock over her face—the sun reflected from the water burned more than sunlight from the sky. She settled in, took up her double-bladed paddle, and set off, smoothly riding away from the beach and out into the harbor.

She found her rhythm immediately. The paddle made musical splashing sounds as she dipped and raised it. The water was still and mirror-clear. Many boats were moored in the inner harbor, although the giant yachts towering at the town piers had left for the season. She wove her way around the schooners and stinkpots, heading for Coatue.

Her breathing slowed, deepened. The island was working its magic, pulling her into this singular, irreplaceable, unrepeatable day. Gulls soared overhead, occasionally dropping a scallop shell on the hard bow of a boat to crack it open, soaring down to snatch out the sweet scallop, rocketing up and away with their treasure. On both sides of the harbor, people were starting their day. They were moving blots of color in the periphery of Keely’s vision. With each dip of her paddle, Keely surged forward into the blue, the pristine blue of the air around her, the sea below her, the sky above her.

She moved along, finally arriving at the long strip of beach called Coatue. Her muscles ached nicely. She wished she’d thought to bring along a bottle of water. She walked up and down the beach looking for an oyster shell. She could crack it open on a rock and drink the juice.

    “Keely?”

She heard her name called twice before she snapped out of her trance and into reality.

Anchoring near her in an old Boston Whaler was a guy in board shorts and sunglasses. His boat bobbed up and down as a ferry passed on its way into the harbor, its wake making waves.

Keely stared. “Tommy?”

Tommy jumped over the side of his boat and swam to shore, rising up out of the water, the sun sequinning his skin with the drops that dripped off his shoulders.

“Hey, babe!” Tommy walked right up to Keely and hugged her so hard he lifted her off the ground.

“Tommy, put me down. What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You should be in school.”

“Really? You really think I should be in school?” He put his hands on his hips, threw back his head, and laughed.

“Stop it, Tommy. You’re not making any sense!”

Tommy was slightly manic. She’d seen him this way before, in high school. He was a guy who did not like to be caged in.

“I dropped out!” He waved his arms victoriously. “I’m done with college. Done!”

“What are you talking about? You’re a senior! You’re going to graduate next spring.”

“I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stand to be in one more class. The only reason I went to college in the first place was that my father insisted I go. He wants me to join him in his accounting firm. I knew it wouldn’t be the place for me. I told him. He’s a stubborn SOB.”

Keely smiled. “You are, too.”

Tommy nodded. “I told him I saved him a year’s tuition, and I know enough about accounting and spreadsheets and all that crap. When it comes to anything on the computer, I’m way ahead of him. I told him I’d stay on the island and work for him during the week, but the weekends are mine.”

    “Isabelle didn’t email me about all this.”

“Isabelle doesn’t really know.” Tommy hung his head with pretend guilt. “I told her I was starting school late. Because of flu.”

“You lied to Isabelle.”

“She would fight me tooth and nail on this, Keely, you know she would. She’s just as conventional as my father. College diploma, graduation, respect, blah blah…”

“When are you going to tell her?”

“Maybe tonight.” Tommy brightened. “Or you could tell her!”

Keely snorted. “Yeah, I could tell her and take the first hit of fury, right? You’re a piece of work.”

Tommy grinned wickedly. “I’m a bad, bad boy.”

Keely rolled her eyes, but for a moment she was caught in his bad boy spell. He was six feet four, broad shouldered, slim-hipped. His wet black hair stuck out all over. He hadn’t shaved today. His chest was lightly furred with black hair that narrowed into a line down into his board shorts. He grinned down at her, as if acknowledging her interest.

He said, “If you tell Isabelle today, I’ll treat you to dinner at the Languedoc tonight.”

Keely grinned back. “If you tell Isabelle today, I’ll go to dinner with you tonight.”

It was a challenge, she knew. A dare. But for her, it was also a test. Here Tommy was, handsome, sensual, physical, and flirting with her. So how much did he really love Isabelle? If he was so connected to Isabelle, what was he doing standing on this beach with both of them practically half-naked, giving her a look that stripped off the rest of her clothes and all of her inhibitions? What did Keely owe Isabelle? Would Keely actually choose a little romantic escapade with Tommy over her friendship with Isabelle? Of course not.