Read Online Whiskey Beach by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online

shed, but if you need more you talk to Digby Pierce. His number’s in my book, in the desk in the little office, and in the far right drawer in the kitchen. Abra has it if you can’t find it.”
    “Okay. No problem.”
    “Are you eating properly, Eli? I don’t want to see skin and bones the next time I lay eyes on you.”
    “I just had pancakes.”
    “Ah! Did you go into Cafe Beach in the village?”
    “No . . . actually, Abra made them. Listen, about that—”
    “She’s a good girl.” Hester rolled right over him. “A fine cook, too. If you have any questions or run into any problems, you just ask her. If she doesn’t have the answer, she’ll find it. She’s a smart girl, and a very pretty one, as I hope you noticed unless you’ve gone blind as well as skinny.”
    He felt a warning tingle at the back of his neck. “Gran, you’re not trying to fix me up with her, are you?”
    “Why would I have to do something like that? Can’t you think for yourself? When have I ever interfered in your love life, Eli?”
    “Okay, you’re right. I apologize. It’s just . . . You know her a lot better than I do. I don’t want her to feel obliged to cook for me, and I don’t seem to be able to get that across to her.”
    “Did you eat the pancakes?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Because you felt obliged to?”
    “Point taken.”
    “Over and above that, Abra does what she likes, I can promise you. That’s something I admire about her. She enjoys life and lives it. You could use a bit of that.”
    That warning tingle resounded. “But you’re not trying to fix me up?”
    “I trust you to know your own mind, heart and physical needs.”
    “Okay, let’s move on from there. Or move laterally from there. I don’t want to offend your friend, especially when she’s doing my laundry. So, as I said, you know her best. How do I, diplomatically, convince her I don’t want or need a massage?”
    “She offered you a massage?”
    “Yes, ma’am. Or she informed me she’d be back at five-thirty with her table. My ‘No, thanks’ didn’t make a dent.”
    “You’re in for a treat. That girl has magic hands. Before she started giving me weekly massages, and talking me into doing yoga, I lived with lower back pain, and an ache right between my shoulder blades. Old age, I decided, and accepted. Until Abra.”
    He realized he’d walked farther than he intended when he spotted the steps leading up to the village. The few seconds it took him to shift direction, decide to go up, gave Hester an opening.
    “You’re a bundle of stress, boy. Do you think I can’t hear it in your voice? Your life went to hell in a handbasket, and that’s not right. It’s not fair. Life too often isn’t either. So it’s what we do about it. What you’ve got to do now is the same as everybody’s telling me I have to do. Get healthy, get strong, get back on your feet. I don’t like hearing it either, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the simple truth.”
    “And a massage from your pancake-making neighbor’s the answer?”
    “It’s one of them. Listen to you, huffing and puffing like an old man.”
    Insulted—mortified—he pivoted to the defensive. “I walked all the way to the village—and some of that through this damn snow. And I’m climbing steps.”
    “And these excuses from a former Harvard basketball star.”
    “I wasn’t a star,” he muttered.
    “You were to me. You are to me.”
    He paused at the top of the steps—yeah, to catch his breath, and to wait for the heart she’d managed to stir to settle.
    “Did you see my new gym?” she asked him.
    “I did. Very nice. How much can you bench-press, Hester?”
    She laughed. “You think you’re smart and sassy. I’m not going out scrawny and used up, I’ll tell you that. You make use of that gym, Eli.”
    “I did—once already. I got your memo. I’m standing across from The Lobster Shack.”
    “The best lobster rolls on the North Shore.”
    “Things haven’t