“So how’s it going with Hannah?” I say, lowering my voice. “Any awkwardness?”
“No, it’s actually fine. To be honest, themainreason I didn’t want to be in the carriage house was because she’d be there, but Marcus is clearly a very distant memory for her.”
“And Marcus—is he okay with it, too?”
I can still picture him at last night’s table, his eyes glued to Hannah and his face set like stone.
“He says it’s fine, too.” She glances left and right, making sure we’re alone. “She was nothing more than a blip on the radar. He’s just glad Nick at least gave him a heads-up before they arrived.”
“She clearly feels comfortable withyou.”
Her deep brown eyes register puzzlement.
“I saw you talking when I came around the corner.”
“Oh, that. She’s actually going to do me a big favor. This director she’s working with on the Netflix show is involved with some major clean water initiatives, and Hannah said she could convince him to do a luncheon with some of our clients. That could really help move one of our initiatives along, plus it would assure I’d win a few points in my new job.”
Okay, I see what Hannah’s up to. Her modus operandi this week is a full-on charm offensive. I’m sure Claire and Ash have been subjected to it, too, though last night she seemedto have no interest whatsoever in wooingme. “How thoughtful of her,” I say, using my best fake sincere voice.
After Keira excuses herself to change out of her wet swimsuit, I finish my cappuccino at a leisurely pace and decide it’s an okay time to pop into the kitchen. Claire’s still in the room, fussing at the counter, with the dogs hovering nearby.
“There you are, darling,” she says. “How is your morning so far?”
“Lovely.” I stoop down and give both dogs a pat, and they immediately roll over in anticipation of having their bellies scratched. “How do you think Henry did last night?”
“He says great. I heard his toilet flush around six, but I assume he fell right back to sleep.”
“On his way to being a big boy. Now tell me how I can help you with lunch.”
“We seem to be all set, so just enjoy the day.”
“Okay, but let me know if you think of anything. I’m going to go grab my tennis shoes and head down to the court.”
But when I open the door to the cottage a couple of minutes later, I spot Gabe’s tennis racket leaning against the couch and notice the steady drum of shower water upstairs.
When it ceases, Gabe calls out, “That you?”
“Yeah,” I shout back. “I was hoping to hit some balls with you.”
“Sorry, we all called it quits. It’s getting too hot.”
Two minutes later, he bounds down the stairs, dressed in swim trunks and a T-shirt that matches his blue eyes, and smelling of mango-scented bodywash.
“How’s Henry’s game coming?” I ask.
“Really good. He’s probably never going to be the kind ofkid who ends up starring on the school basketball team, but he’s definitely good at tennis. We ended up playing against Nick and Hannah, which was fun, and then Hannah hit with him for a while.”
Okay, this is starting to get ridiculous.
“So she’s a tennis player, too?”
“Not a superskilled one, but she’s game.”
“Speaking of Hannah,” I say, grabbing a spot on the couch, “there’s something I wanted to tell you.”
Gabe sits down next to me and sweeps a hand through his short dark brown hair. “What’s up?”
“She told me a lie last night. And I can’t figure out why.”
