Island in the Sea by Anita Hughes Page B

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    â€œOf course you can,” Lionel pleaded. “Put your feet on the pedals.”
    â€œI won’t.” Lucy shook her head. “I’m afraid of the water.”
    Lionel searched the dock for boats, but they were all out on the lake. He undid his leather belt and slipped off his Ferragamo loafers. He took a deep breath and dived into the water.
    He paddled Lucy’s boat back to shore and carried her on his shoulders to the puppet show. He set her gently on the ground and she flung herself against his legs. Samantha tried to be angry, but she saw his shirt collar sticking to his neck and his pants covered in mud and covered her face with her hands.
    *   *   *
    They sat in a café eating vanilla custard and blueberry scones with Devonshire cream. Lionel poured Earl Grey tea into a porcelain cup and added cream and sugar.
    â€œThere were two entrances to the bathroom,” he explained. “Lucy went out one entrance while I was waiting at the other.”
    â€œYou’re a hero, the girls thought you Prince Charming rescuing Rapunzel.” Samantha nibbled a cucumber sandwich.
    â€œLucy should have remembered she was afraid of water before she climbed in the boat,” Lionel grumbled. “I ruined a Ralph Lauren shirt.”
    â€œAt least you took off your loafers,” Samantha said. “Water is terrible for Italian leather.”
    Lionel bristled. “It’s not a crime to like nice shoes. If you invited me to spend the afternoon trailing after little girls with freckles and runny noses so I wouldn’t want to see you again, it didn’t work. I’d gladly jump in the river for you any day of the week.”
    â€œIt’s a man-made lake, not a river,” Samantha corrected. “I invited you for two reasons. Even if I don’t agree with your goals, there’s nothing more important than having a dream. I didn’t want to be the person who ruined it.”
    â€œWhat’s the other reason?” Lionel asked.
    Samantha looked at Lionel and her face lit up in a smile. “You do have lovely curls and nice eyes.”
    *   *   *
    Lionel put his shot glass on the maple side table and stood up. “That’s enough for today, I need some lunch.”
    â€œDid Samantha go out with you again?” Juliet asked.
    â€œThat’s the thing about a love story, everyone wants to know how it ends. Songwriters today think they have to talk about racial equality or the energy crisis but all people care about is how a boy meets a girl.”
    â€œI’m only interested in you fulfilling your contract or repaying Gideon one hundred sixty-six thousand dollars,” Juliet replied.
    â€œYou do know how to ruin a perfectly fine afternoon.” Lionel flinched. “I’m going to make a Spanish omelet, would you like to join me?”
    â€œI had a late breakfast.” Juliet shook her head.
    â€œI use my mother’s recipe; she put milk in the frying pan.” Lionel walked to the kitchen. “It makes the eggs fluffy.”
    â€œIt sounds delicious.” Juliet followed him down the hallway. “But I have to write a report.”
    â€œIf I’m here alone I’ll finish the whole omelet myself.” He opened the fridge and took out a tomato and a wedge of feta cheese and a green onion. “Gideon won’t be happy if I have a heart attack from eating too much cholesterol.”
    Juliet sat on a leather stool and let her shoulders relax. “I’ll stay, but you have to go upstairs and change. I’m not eating lunch with someone wearing pajamas.”
    *   *   *
    Lionel placed ceramic plates in the sink and turned on the faucet. He draped a dishtowel over his shoulder and pictured Juliet’s yellow knit dress and white sandals.
    Lionel had set the table with a white linen tablecloth and crystal water glasses. He served omelets and scones with