wanted to do was go straight upstairs to her room and fall asleep for about three hours—no, make that three years. She patted at her hair and wrapped herself in a thick white towel. She opened the door. David was standing immediately outside.
Maddy jumped, banging her head on the doorjamb, and let out an idiotic little squeak, like a mouse that had been stepped on. “Ow!” she said, holding the side of her head.
He was holding a backpack in his hand. He looked as surprised as she did. “Hey,” he said softly. Maddy could hardly look at him. God, what did he think of her now? The awful lunch, and then running away crying? “Hi,” she managed, staring at his tan toes.
“Um, I was looking for a bucket. I don’t know what I did with the one that was in the tasting room, so—”
Maddy clutched her towel a little tighter. “I’m, um, sorry about, you know, earlier.” He didn’t say anything, just waited. “I mean, running off like that . . .” He looked at her. “I’m just . . . under a lot of pressure right now.”
Her voice cracked on the last few words, and she could feel the tears building up again. He reached out for her, like he might try to give her a hug. Maddy stepped away slightly and stood there, feeling miserable and stupid, tasting the tears that were now running down her cheeks to her lips. His voice was urgent and quiet. “I don’t know what you’re thinking 215
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about, but I hope when you get it figured out . . . you’ll tell me.”
For a long minute, they both just stood there, staring at each other. Maddy wanted to just say it—everything that was on her mind, everything that had gone wrong and right all summer long. His eyes were so big and dark, she just wanted to lose herself in them. Finally, she whispered, “Yeah,” and rushed past him, almost knocking him over. Yet another graceful exit for Ms. Madeline Sinclaire. She ran down the path, feeling like she was going to implode.
Later that afternoon, Maddy was kneeling in the bean rows, watching an orb-weaving spider spin a huge web on the garden fence while she piled pinto beans into a basket with both hands. A few feet away, the tomatoes hung plump and red. One looked ripe enough to fall off the vine. It looked scrumptious. Maddy sat back on her heels, plucked the tomato. and bit into it like an apple. The juice ran down her chin and trickled a pale pink streak onto her tanned bare arm.
A crunch in the grass caught Maddy’s ear, and she looked up to see David crossing the lawn. She inhaled sharply. She couldn’t help admiring the slant of his shoulders and his easy, springy stride. Talking by the shower had been a disaster, but this was it. She could do it. She tried to smooth her hair with the backs of her dirty hands. Maddy focused furiously on the beans. She 216
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sensed David approaching but didn’t turn around as he sat down next to the garden plot. Neither of them said anything. Maddy finally managed to look up at him. He was sneaking a glance at her at the same time. She flashed a quick smile that probably looked more like a grimace and turned back to the stake as if picking beans was her calling in life. Was this really the same guy she had hung out with all summer? Had they really eaten ribs together in a parking lot, doubled over laughing and talking endlessly? Her heart pounding, Maddy forced herself to turn around again. She knelt next to the basket and concentrated on picking out leaves.
“So, how’s the garden doing?” David said.
“Great!” It came out a little loud.
“I love it that it never rains in the summer here,” he said. Wow, they were talking about the weather? What the hell ?
“Me too,” Maddy agreed. She felt a zing like a mini electric shock as their eyes met. She swallowed hard. She’d never had to search for things to say to David before all of this. They just talked naturally, without thinking. “So . . . are you glad summer’s almost over?”
He shrugged, a gesture Maddy found unbearably cute. “Yes and no. I like it here more, but I do miss people in the city. How about you? Are you going to be glad to see . . . your friends?” She caught the tiny pause before “friends.” This was her chance.
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“Well, yeah. I’ll be glad to see Morgan and Kirsten, but . . . um . . . Brian and I broke up.” She stopped fiddling with the beans and looked right at him. His mouth opened and shut twice before he found his voice.
“Wow. I had no idea.”
“Yeah. It just wasn’t working out. I think we were just growing apart,” she said cautiously. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear the blood in her ears. David scooted closer on the grass and brushed some dirt off of her nose.
“Hey, you know something? Earlier, when I ran into you by the shower, I really was looking for a bucket. But I was also trying to find you.”
Maddy raised her head and met David’s eyes for the first time all day. She took a deep breath. “By the way,”
she said, “I was thinking . . . you know, after that eggplant dish . . .” He gave a fake shudder and she smiled ruefully. “Maybe I could use a few cooking lessons . . . ?”
She faltered, but a grin danced on his lips.
“Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. Come over to the cottage. After an hour with me, I promise you’ll never make Eggplant Surprise again.”
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Chapter Twenty-five
!
David!” Maddy called, running breathlessly up the path to the little white cottage. Her long hair was slipping out of its ponytail, and she was wearing an old pair of gray gym shorts and a pink camisole—the first things her hand had touched when her cell phone woke her up half an hour earlier. “David!” she yelled again, trying not to slip on the gravel in her Havaianas. All of a sudden, she stopped, remembering Fred. He might not appreciate being woken up at seven o’clock, she thought, looking around quickly. His gray pickup was gone. He must already be out. “David!” she hollered with renewed vigor, cupping her hands around her mouth.
An upstairs bedroom window flew open and a sleep219
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tousled head poked out. “Are you nuts, woman?” David demanded.
“The furniture place called a few minutes ago,”
Maddy said from the driveway. “They’re coming to deliver everything in an hour. And Standish is bringing all the wineglasses this morning too!” As soon as she had gotten the news, Maddy had called the rug dealer. She had promised that her son would be over with the rug in a couple hours. Maddy was saving that as a surprise. David started to draw his head back in. “Just let me get dressed.”
“No, wait! We left all that painting stuff in there—
remember? And I think we should mop the floors and wipe everything off before they move stuff in. So come on!”
“You have way too much energy for this early,” David groaned. “Okay, just wait for me while I take a shower and get something to eat. The front door’s open.” He disappeared.
Maddy pushed open the old screen door and stepped into a small living room. The furnishings were spartan but neat; a plaid sofa with an afghan folded across the top, a matching armchair, a couple of bookcases filled with old books. A grandfather clock ticked solemnly in the corner. Maddy wandered into the kitchen. She could hear water running upstairs. She gazed at the white stove with its gas burners, and the old fridge humming in the 220
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corner. She glanced at the clock on the stove. David would have to hurry if they were going to beat the deliverymen.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. This was her second chance. Excitedly, Maddy yanked open the fridge door and pulled out a carton of eggs and a halffull gallon of milk. She opened cabinet doors until she found a bowl, a whisk, and a frying pan. Quickly, she whipped three eggs and a little milk into a deep yellow froth and lit the burner. It felt good to be in control again after the trauma of her last cooking experience. She cut two thick slices off a loaf of bread on the counter and dropped them into the toaster.