Jordan went with a Bud and oysters on the half-shell. Their conversation was idle as they waited to be served, Jordan commenting on the changes in New York since he’d been up last and Kathy telling him the girls loved to skate on the rink at Rockefeller Plaza every Christmas.
“Still skating yourself?” he asked her, watching as his oysters were delivered.
“Sometimes.”
“Still diving?”
She hesitated. Diving had once been a family sport. South Florida had been a great place to indulge in it, and Jordan had kept a small apartment in the Keys to accommodate their love for it.
“I’ve... taken a few trips. I never liked diving in cold water, though I’ve checked out a few sunken ships.”
“And gone on a few Caribbean vacations.”
She arched a brow.
“The girls keep me informed,” he reminded her.
“Ummm.”
“You’ve still never acquired a taste for oysters?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Too slimy looking.”
“They’re delicious little buggers.”
“Ugh.” She watched him let one slide down his throat and then shuddered.
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” he assured her.
“Well, we all have to miss out on a few things in life.” She hesitated. “Does Miss April like oysters?”
He grinned, arching a brow at her reference to “Miss April” again. “Actually,” he informed her, “Tara doesn’t like seafood at all.”
“She looks too thin to be a lover of red meat.”
“She’s a vegetarian. How about muscleman?”
Kathy grinned now. “Moderation in everything,” she said sweetly.
“Does he dive?”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t swim,” she admitted.
“Oh. Well, he does love the opera.”
“And I’m sure Miss April does love... something!” she said even more sweetly.
He grunted, swallowing another oyster. “Well?” he asked when he had washed it down with a long draught of beer.
“Jordan—”
“The girls will think you very churlish if you don’t come.”
“Churlish?” she repeated.
“Churlish. It is a good word, right, madam editor?”
“It’s a fine word. I suppose. But if they think I’m churlish, it will be your fault.”
“It won’t be, because you will be churlish if you don’t come.” He leaned across the table, strangely intent again. “Promise me that you will.”
“Jordan, this isn’t fair.”
“Life never is.”
“Yes, but we do have some control over our own destinies.”
“Do we?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Please, come down.”
“If I can get the time off,” she said evasively.
He sat back, triumphant, pleased. “Then it’s settled.”
“It’s not quite so simple—”
“Oh, come, come.”
She smiled suddenly. “How about this, Jordan? I’ll promise to come if you’ll tell me what you’re really up to!”
“What I’m really up to?” he repeated. “Is that grammatically correct?”
“Jordan, what is it you really want?”
“To see everyone back together again. And that’s the truth.”
There was more, but it was obvious she wasn’t going to drag it out of him. Not now, at least. Maybe once she did to go Star Island...
But Miss April would be with him all the time. What would she learn then?
Ummm. Did it matter? Whatever she said to him now, she knew she was going to fly down for the week. Even if it did half destroy her, and ruin the fine cloak of independence and dignity it had taken her so very long to don. He was after something. Maybe she was, too. Maybe they—and the group—had parted too quickly after Keith had died, and maybe they needed to get back together again. Perhaps this was the only way any of them could really move on without being haunted by the past.
“It will really be nice. If you come down on Friday night, you’ll have nine days and only miss five at the office. We can take the Sand Shark down to the reefs for a few days before the rest of the gang arrive.”
“I thought Miss April wasn’t fond of diving.”
“Muscleman doesn’t go in the water
“Still skating yourself?” he asked her, watching as his oysters were delivered.
“Sometimes.”
“Still diving?”
She hesitated. Diving had once been a family sport. South Florida had been a great place to indulge in it, and Jordan had kept a small apartment in the Keys to accommodate their love for it.
“I’ve... taken a few trips. I never liked diving in cold water, though I’ve checked out a few sunken ships.”
“And gone on a few Caribbean vacations.”
She arched a brow.
“The girls keep me informed,” he reminded her.
“Ummm.”
“You’ve still never acquired a taste for oysters?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Too slimy looking.”
“They’re delicious little buggers.”
“Ugh.” She watched him let one slide down his throat and then shuddered.
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” he assured her.
“Well, we all have to miss out on a few things in life.” She hesitated. “Does Miss April like oysters?”
He grinned, arching a brow at her reference to “Miss April” again. “Actually,” he informed her, “Tara doesn’t like seafood at all.”
“She looks too thin to be a lover of red meat.”
“She’s a vegetarian. How about muscleman?”
Kathy grinned now. “Moderation in everything,” she said sweetly.
“Does he dive?”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t swim,” she admitted.
“Oh. Well, he does love the opera.”
“And I’m sure Miss April does love... something!” she said even more sweetly.
He grunted, swallowing another oyster. “Well?” he asked when he had washed it down with a long draught of beer.
“Jordan—”
“The girls will think you very churlish if you don’t come.”
“Churlish?” she repeated.
“Churlish. It is a good word, right, madam editor?”
“It’s a fine word. I suppose. But if they think I’m churlish, it will be your fault.”
“It won’t be, because you will be churlish if you don’t come.” He leaned across the table, strangely intent again. “Promise me that you will.”
“Jordan, this isn’t fair.”
“Life never is.”
“Yes, but we do have some control over our own destinies.”
“Do we?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Please, come down.”
“If I can get the time off,” she said evasively.
He sat back, triumphant, pleased. “Then it’s settled.”
“It’s not quite so simple—”
“Oh, come, come.”
She smiled suddenly. “How about this, Jordan? I’ll promise to come if you’ll tell me what you’re really up to!”
“What I’m really up to?” he repeated. “Is that grammatically correct?”
“Jordan, what is it you really want?”
“To see everyone back together again. And that’s the truth.”
There was more, but it was obvious she wasn’t going to drag it out of him. Not now, at least. Maybe once she did to go Star Island...
But Miss April would be with him all the time. What would she learn then?
Ummm. Did it matter? Whatever she said to him now, she knew she was going to fly down for the week. Even if it did half destroy her, and ruin the fine cloak of independence and dignity it had taken her so very long to don. He was after something. Maybe she was, too. Maybe they—and the group—had parted too quickly after Keith had died, and maybe they needed to get back together again. Perhaps this was the only way any of them could really move on without being haunted by the past.
“It will really be nice. If you come down on Friday night, you’ll have nine days and only miss five at the office. We can take the Sand Shark down to the reefs for a few days before the rest of the gang arrive.”
“I thought Miss April wasn’t fond of diving.”
“Muscleman doesn’t go in the water
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