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Authors: Karen MacInerney
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going to do much to quell John’s evident attraction to Vanessa anyway. But Charlene urged me forward, and a minute later she and I were trotting along right behind the slender retreat leader and my flannel-clad boyfriend.
“Hi, Natalie,” John said when he saw me, flashing me a white-toothed grin that made my heart melt. “Great morning to be out, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I agreed. Particularly now that we were headed downhill, and no longer jogging.
“How far is the lighthouse?” asked Cat, who was sandwiched between her sorority sisters behind me.
“Another twenty minutes,” John said.
“Will there be snacks when we get there?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.” Vanessa patted her smart little backpack, which I knew was filled with energy bars that looked and tasted like sawdust mixed with miniscule chocolate chips.
We spent much of that remaining time listening to John and Vanessa catch up on old times, with Charlene interjecting what she knew of longtime island residents.
“So Murray Selfridge made it big, I hear,” Vanessa said.
“He’s been trying to do the same for the island,” John said, referring to Selfridge’s repeated attempts to push developments through the board of selectmen.
“It looks like he hasn’t been successful so far,” Vanessa said. “The island hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Not yet—and a lot of it’s due to Tom Lockhart.”
“Why is that?” Vanessa asked.
“He’s a pretty big deal around here,” Charlene said. “He stepped into his father’s shoes as head of the lobster co-op, and he’s also chair of the board of selectmen.”
“It doesn’t surprise me,” Vanessa said, smiling. “He was always charismatic. It was good to see him again …” There was an odd look in her almond-shaped eyes as she spoke. Had she seen him more than once yesterday? I wondered.
“What about you?” John asked her. “Last I heard you were engaged to some real estate mogul in New Jersey.”
“Didn’t work out,” she said quickly. “He was already married to his business. But tell me about everybody else. What happened to Eric Hoyle?”
As John and Charlene filled Vanessa in on the rest of the gossip—some of which was interesting, but much of which I already knew—I glanced behind me to see what everyone else was up to. Bethany was looking distraught, doubtless at the absence of her love object, and the three sorority sisters appeared to be taking their own little trip down memory lane. Megan was walking stolidly alongside Greg; Carissa trailed them, looking miserable. Once I glimpsed her slipping something into her mouth—it looked like a mini Snickers bar—and again I felt that stab of pity. The reporter was at the rear of the line, alone.
Elizabeth had put away her notebook, but was snapping pictures with a little digital camera. I couldn’t blame her; with the fresh green leaves springing up on the sides of the road, and the dark trees finally free of their blanket of snow, the scenery was breathtaking.
As we approached the lighthouse, I could see the construction equipment from the renovation clustered at the end of the trail. The area around the lighthouse was ringed by a construction fence, and the previously narrow, rarely traveled path had widened considerably with all the traffic. I thought again about Vanessa’s late-night outing; had she and either Tom or John come back last night to revisit their old haunts?
Stop being ridiculous , I told myself. John didn’t even have a car.
“Watch out for rocks!” Vanessa said in a cheery voice as she started down the path. John followed her, and I fell in behind him, Charlene trailing me.
“All this effort, and Dirk didn’t even show up,” Charlene muttered. “I’m sweating for nothing.”
“What’s that?” It was Elizabeth, from somewhere behind me. She was pointing to something that looked like a speed bump on the trail. I craned to look over John’s shoulder; whatever it was
“Hi, Natalie,” John said when he saw me, flashing me a white-toothed grin that made my heart melt. “Great morning to be out, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I agreed. Particularly now that we were headed downhill, and no longer jogging.
“How far is the lighthouse?” asked Cat, who was sandwiched between her sorority sisters behind me.
“Another twenty minutes,” John said.
“Will there be snacks when we get there?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.” Vanessa patted her smart little backpack, which I knew was filled with energy bars that looked and tasted like sawdust mixed with miniscule chocolate chips.
We spent much of that remaining time listening to John and Vanessa catch up on old times, with Charlene interjecting what she knew of longtime island residents.
“So Murray Selfridge made it big, I hear,” Vanessa said.
“He’s been trying to do the same for the island,” John said, referring to Selfridge’s repeated attempts to push developments through the board of selectmen.
“It looks like he hasn’t been successful so far,” Vanessa said. “The island hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Not yet—and a lot of it’s due to Tom Lockhart.”
“Why is that?” Vanessa asked.
“He’s a pretty big deal around here,” Charlene said. “He stepped into his father’s shoes as head of the lobster co-op, and he’s also chair of the board of selectmen.”
“It doesn’t surprise me,” Vanessa said, smiling. “He was always charismatic. It was good to see him again …” There was an odd look in her almond-shaped eyes as she spoke. Had she seen him more than once yesterday? I wondered.
“What about you?” John asked her. “Last I heard you were engaged to some real estate mogul in New Jersey.”
“Didn’t work out,” she said quickly. “He was already married to his business. But tell me about everybody else. What happened to Eric Hoyle?”
As John and Charlene filled Vanessa in on the rest of the gossip—some of which was interesting, but much of which I already knew—I glanced behind me to see what everyone else was up to. Bethany was looking distraught, doubtless at the absence of her love object, and the three sorority sisters appeared to be taking their own little trip down memory lane. Megan was walking stolidly alongside Greg; Carissa trailed them, looking miserable. Once I glimpsed her slipping something into her mouth—it looked like a mini Snickers bar—and again I felt that stab of pity. The reporter was at the rear of the line, alone.
Elizabeth had put away her notebook, but was snapping pictures with a little digital camera. I couldn’t blame her; with the fresh green leaves springing up on the sides of the road, and the dark trees finally free of their blanket of snow, the scenery was breathtaking.
As we approached the lighthouse, I could see the construction equipment from the renovation clustered at the end of the trail. The area around the lighthouse was ringed by a construction fence, and the previously narrow, rarely traveled path had widened considerably with all the traffic. I thought again about Vanessa’s late-night outing; had she and either Tom or John come back last night to revisit their old haunts?
Stop being ridiculous , I told myself. John didn’t even have a car.
“Watch out for rocks!” Vanessa said in a cheery voice as she started down the path. John followed her, and I fell in behind him, Charlene trailing me.
“All this effort, and Dirk didn’t even show up,” Charlene muttered. “I’m sweating for nothing.”
“What’s that?” It was Elizabeth, from somewhere behind me. She was pointing to something that looked like a speed bump on the trail. I craned to look over John’s shoulder; whatever it was
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