“Poor Kate.” Lana clicked her tongue from the other end of the front steps, where we’d all gone to escape the heat inside.
“Don’t feel too sorry for her. She makes a fortune in tips,” Clark said from the truck. He and Ben were sitting on the tailgate. Anne had left to meet Jonathan at the Tides. “Especially with that brace she’s wearing now.”
Again, I was clueless. Although I was pretty sure this person was not related. Maybe?
“Boatyard Pizza,” Ben explained to me. “Kate’s a delivery driver.”
“Theonlydelivery driver,” Clark added. “Plus she’s a grandmother. With a bad knee.”
“Just as well.” The door clunked as Liz came out, fanning herself with one hand. In the other was a credit card. “I can’t bear to see her wobbling across the grass again just to bring us food. Especially considering she used to be my high school principal.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Also ran detention. She wasveryfamiliar with your mom.” She held up the card. “Can someone go grab the order? I’m going to try and catch Trav at the office before he leaves.”
“Not it,” Lana said, closing her eyes as she stretched her legs out.
“Ditto,” Clark added.
A beat. “And then there were two,” Ben said. He looked at me. “Well? You up for another shared memory?”
With him? Definitely.
Soon we’d bounced down the driveway, turned left at the Egg, and were on the curving road, the water glittering out my window. I was becoming acutely aware of the fact that neither of us had spoken when he said, “Now I’m feeling like maybe before inviting you along I should have prepared a topic or something.”
It was a particular skill, I realized, to acknowledge an awkwardness in the moment. Disarming, too. “Like what?”
He shrugged. “The weather. Politics? Maybe snack foods.”
“Those are your go-tos?”
“Not politics,” he admitted. “I just threw that one in there.”
“Have you always been so comfortable saying what you’re thinking?” I asked.
“Unfortunately.” He sighed. “I think it comes from moving around so much. I had to get to know people over and over again, do all the formalities. Got to the point where I just didn’t have the energy.”
“It’s kind of endearing,” I observed.
“Yeah?” he said. Immediately, I felt my face flush. Maybe it was the small space. Or just that I’d gotten used to his company. But evidently, I was now getting comfortable as well. He gave me a smile. “Good to know.”
I cleared my throat. Now I was blushingandchoking.
“Also,” he continued, “my dad was famous for his tendency towards, um, untruth. I think this weird openness is a way of rebelling.”
“I didn’t say it was weird.”
“Which is exactly my point.” He sighed. “You didn’t have to. I did.”
The road curved again, a sign that saidBOATYARD. Beneath it, in a different font:PIZZA.Ben slowed, then turned onto the wide gravel drive, which was lined with, yes, boats on sawhorses, some partially covered in tarps. We passed a large metal warehouse-like structure facing the water, also crowded with vessels of all shapes and sizes. Ahead was a smaller cinder-block building with aBEERneon sign.
“Speaking of my dad,” he said. “He used to have a Jet Ski–and-paddleboard rental place on the dock here.”
“Yeah?”
“Until one sank and it was discovered he had no insurance. That was his first lawsuit.” He pulled up by a strip of grass. “Marshall was about to open Fishbones, threw him a pity job managing. Eventually they became partners in the Egg.”
I looked at him. “Your dad owns part of the Egg?”
