“I was afraid the noise would wake you up.” He guided her to the truck.
“So,” she said, as he helped her into the cab, “in addition to being a chef, owning a restaurant, and constructing parking lots in the middle of the night, you’re also a comedian.”
“Yeah. I learned everything I know from Bill Murray. He has a house here, you know. He comes into the restaurant from time to time.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup. Except the part about me learning anything from him. I’m not sure he knows my name. Oh, and the part about me chopping down trees, hauling out stumps, and hard-packing the dirt last night? That’s not true, either. The rest is, though.”
Maddie laughed.
Closing the passenger door, Rex rounded the truck and jumped in on the other side. And Maddie knew she’d been right: Rex Winsted was definitely not Norm Connors.
* * *
“Almost there,” he said.
Maddie knew they’d been heading north, probably toward West Tisbury. She had no idea what, if any, restaurants were there.
“I’ve got all day,” she said, then frowned. “Actually, I have to be home by four thirty.”
“And I have to be back in Edgartown before then. But we have plenty of time.”
He turned down a narrow, secondary road. Gray stone walls bordered the sides; hefty trunks of tall trees—towering, stately oaks, perhaps? Curvy, knotty chestnuts?—shaded the green meadows beyond. Clusters of flowers sprung up here and there—lavender-thistle-topped stalks were sprinkled along the roadside, delicate pink blossoms poked their heads from between the rocks, deep red trumpets sprouted between the tree trunks.
Maddie was often shy on a first date, which she decided this really was. But it felt different with Rex. Their conversation was comfortable, not forced. Maybe her guard was down because she felt no pressure; after all, she’d be leaving the island soon. There was no need to obsess over whether he was relationship material.
Finally, he slowed the truck and pulled into a paved lot, big enough only for two or three vehicles. Surprisingly, no one else was there.
“Wait here,” he said, as he turned off the ignition and got out.
She heard rattling sounds from the bed of the pickup. Then he was at the passenger door. A large backpack was slung over one shoulder.
“Your Majesty,” he said. With a sweeping gesture, he revealed a wheelchair parked next to him. “We shall now exit you from the motorized vehicle and into a manual one that I’ll have to push.”
Maddie laughed again. How could she not?
After he helped her get seated, the chair began to wheel, and she was delightfully free from the crutches. They headed toward what looked like another packed-dirt path through more trees. And then an opening appeared; straight ahead was the blue sea. Even better, there was a wood-plank boardwalk. Rex deftly steered the wheelchair onto it, and less than a minute later, they were at the beach.
Setting down the backpack, he pulled out a blanket and spread it on the sand. Then he helped Maddie out of the wheelchair and onto a folding beach chair that he’d strapped to his back. Returning to his pack, he pulled out refrigerator containers, plates and paper cups, utensils and bottles of iced tea. While he staged the production, neither of them spoke.
Then he brushed his hands together, sat on the blanket, looked at her, and grinned.
“Welcome to my portable beach restaurant. Today is opening day . . . I’m thinking of franchising it. Are you interested?”
“How can I resist? You’ve thought of everything. But I’m sorry, I already have a job.” Which led to a discussion about her career.
They talked and talked while Rex arranged small pink crab cakes; seared scallop sliders; green salad with feta cheese, cranberries, and an array of herbs; roasted fingerling potatoes; and a mix of grape tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil. He served her the plate, a napkin, and utensils. Then he poured a cup of the iced tea and secured it in the sand next to her chair.
“This looks fabulous, Rex. But I’m not used to eating so much all at once.” She almost giggled, then remembered she no longer was a teenager.
He waved off her comment. “Eat what you can.”
“You’ve gone to so much trouble. . . .”
“Just another day at the office.”
Once they started eating, their banter resumed. Again, it was comfortable, easy.
