Girls of Summer(19)

“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.

She thought she looked pretty, or as pretty as possible. It had been a long time since she’d worn makeup, and it had taken her over an hour to put on foundation, concealer, blush, eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick. And another fifteen minutes to wipe it all off. She ended up wearing light sweepings of blush and a rosy lipstick.

She’d kept her dark hair in its tidy chin-length layered bob. She didn’t want to be tossing long locks of hair around as if she thought she was in her twenties.

She was modest in her clothing, too. She had several blouses and light sweaters that dipped low in the front so a lacy camisole peeked through the V. Instead, she wore khakis—not yoga pants, even though she wore them at home and even when doing errands, but she didn’t want to seem to be trying to be young tonight—and a light blue sweater with a multicolored swirl of scarf around her neck.

She probably looked like she was going to a PTA meeting.

Mack scrubbed up nicely. He wore a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His arms were muscular and covered with fine blond hair.

They ordered drinks and considered the menu. Lisa ordered the seafood casserole and Mack ordered a steak.

“Typical, right?” he joked as the waitress went off.

“You work hard physically,” Lisa said. “You need red meat.” Everything she said seemed like a double entendre.