“Darcy took the basket when she asked me what I was doing,” Mila said apologetically when Dane asked if it was ready. “I could hardly say no. I’m surprised you didn’t pass her in the hall. She just left.”
Dane rolled his eyes. “It’s so like her to nose her way into this. Maybe I can catch her before she spoils it. Thanks for your help.” He’d discreetly given her a twenty-dollar bill earlier when he asked for her help. Now he’d have to track down Darcy before she revealed his plan.
He came out of the kitchen in time to see her standing with Hilary, the telltale basket hooked over one arm and a blanket draped over the other. He might strangle his dear friend at the moment if she’d already opened her mouth.
“Your lunch is served,” Darcy said, a smile contorting her face into pure glee.
“Excuse me?” Hilary’s back was to him, but the confusion in her voice was obvious.
He gritted his teeth. “Nice, Darcy. You totally blew this.”
Hilary stepped to the side so she could see them both. “What is this?” she asked, gesturing to the goods.
Darcy looked at the ceiling in exasperation. “I’ve never been good at keeping surprises. It’s my fault for pressing Mila. The blanket is for the beach.” She looked at Dane pleadingly. “I’m so sorry.”
“And I’m so confused,” said Hilary, looking between the two of them.
Dane stared at Darcy until she got the hint. Resigned, she handed over the basket and blanket before she left, dragging her feet like a scolded child.
“I was hoping you’d like to eat lunch down at the beach. It’s peaceful there.”
Hilary’s brows arched.
“I didn’t expect Darcy to butt in.” He looked down at the blanket and the wicker basket. “Now I feel like my mother is sending me on a date.”
Hilary laughed. She tilted her head. “Is that what this is?”
“No. Not really. I mean, I hoped to…again. To talk again.”So articulate, Dane. Well done.
She nodded slowly as if considering it. “Okay. We can talk. On the beach.” She walked toward the doors but stopped to look back at him frozen to the spot. “Are you coming?” Now that they were together again, he was anxious. Maybe this was a mistake, an act of desperation. But he was acutely aware that he might not see Hilary Larkin again after this week ended and it was an impossible thing to imagine. She’d consumed his thoughts since yesterday.
They walked across the lawn in silence. Most of the conference attendees congregated under the tent awaiting lunch. Dane felt conspicuous walking away from the group, obviously heading toward a more private spot. If he weren’t so nervous, he might be able to focus on the beauty of the day. Ahead of them, the sun glinted off the water. Artemisia and dusky pink begonias bloomed around the perimeter of the gazebo. A larger garden with iron obelisks and cedar arches beckoned. He’d been wanting to check it out since Sunday. But stopping to look at flowers was furthest from his mind now.
“I really didn’t mean for this to seem so orchestrated,” he said again.
They’d come to where the lawn stopped and the rocky beach took over. He pointed to a cedar with sparse branches. It shielded the direct sunlight, speckling the ground with shade. It was a warm day, but a breeze chilled the skin exposed above his shirt collar.
“Like a date, you mean.” She smiled at him with a hint that she held back a laugh. “I don’t think I would mistake it for anything but.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” Dane doubled up the blanket and floated it to the ground. “These rocks don’t make the softest surface, but it’ll have to do.”
Hilary sat down and stretched out her legs, crossing her ankles. “It’s ten times more comfortable than sitting in those chairs for three hours.”
Dane groaned as he eased himself to the ground. He cursed his long legs and the stiffness of his jeans after drying them in front of the fire. Beside him, Hilary snickered.
Despite the discomfort, he laughed too. “If only you were six-three and wearing stiff denim. You’d better believe I’d be laughing at your expense.”
“I’m sure it’s uncomfortable,” she said with a smile. It was good to see her spirits lifted after last night.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the breeze wash over them and watching the herring gulls swoop near them, hoping to share lunch. Dane picked through the contents of their lunch in the gingham-lined basket. He plucked out the bag of gourmet popcorn and tore it open. They took turns tossing pieces, laughing at the birds who grew more gutsy by the minute.
“They remind me of our goats. They don’t turn their noses up at anything.” Dane took a handful of popcorn for himself then passed the bag to Hilary.
“They’re ornery things, but I still love them.” Hilary shook some into her hand. “We used to have some. Jorie and I sold milk soap for a while at festivals and fairs. Then she had Hattie. And I couldn’t—” She grew quiet and looked away.
He stopped chewing, studying the back of her head. Of course. If Hattie was two years old, her birth would have coincided with Hilary’s husband’s death.
“More obnoxious than ornery,” he said to keep the conversation going in a positive direction. “Needy, but also very entertaining.”
