Summer Harbor by Susan Wilson Page A

it.
    “I don’t know.” Grainger shook his head, lifted his cap off, and ran a hand through his hair, then resettled the hat back on his head. “I’m pretty booked.”
    Will could have just said okay and gotten up to leave; but he found that he couldn’t. Here was this man who held a clue to his own past, even if it was only in having known his mom as a girl. Will couldn’t let go of the idea that Grainger would be able to tell him something important, something no one else would ever be able to, and he was determined that Grainger wouldn’t just shrug him off. “Mr. Egan, maybe just one lesson?”
    Grainger had been leaning with his elbows on his knees, and now he sat back and looked Will in the eye. For an uncomfortable minute he seemed to be assessing Will, holding him up against some measure.
    “All right. Meet me at the boat works on Tuesday morning. Seven-thirty.” He put out his hand for Will to shake. “One lesson. If you look like you can become a sailor, we’ll see about a second.”
    “Okay. Great.” Will felt the grip of Grainger’s hand grow stronger, almost painful.
    “One free lesson. To see what you’re made of.” Grainger let go of Will’s hand, gathered his lunch bag, and started to walk away, then turned back. “How is she? Your mother?” Did Will imagine a fiber in that voice pulling it tight?
    He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. The truth was, she was still mad at him, and acting all weird about being here in Hawke’s Cove. “Good, I guess.”
    Grainger nodded and turned to cross the street, moving with the broad, open step of a man who had spent a lifetime on the water.

Seven
    At first Kiley was annoyed with Will for being late, then a little worried. As far as she knew he was only over in Great Harbor, poking around and looking for some new CDs. He’d promised to be on this side of the bridge by five, and to meet her here at the Osprey’s Nest for an early dinner. Kiley assumed that Will would be a little late, and had taken her time walking into town from the house. It was now five-forty and she was fighting the sense of maternal panic that always overruled rational thought.
    Will had been so remote since the pot-smoking incident—not so much sullen as distracted. Unfortunately, she’d been equally distracted with the house. No, being truthful, it was being in Hawke’s Cove. Her initial hope, that bringing him here would open up the doorway of communication, was instantly put to the test when Will asked her about the photograph, and she’d failed. She wanted him to reveal his thoughts to her, yet she was unwilling to do the same. Well, maybe tonight she could get him to let her in a little. In her heart of hearts, Kiley knew that there had to have been some catalyst for Will’s behavior that night, something that pushed him into doing it. Will reacted to things.
    Kiley sighed. There was so much going on right now that this silence, whether it was a defense mechanism or simple weariness, must not be allowed to continue. All too soon he would be far away, only a disembodied voice on a phone. Living a life separate from hers.
    The waitress came over a second time to try and take her order. “You ready?”
    “No. I’m still waiting for my son. He really should be here any minute.” Kiley resented her disagreeable need to explain to the waitress. “I’ll just have a glass of water in the meantime.”
    “You bet.” The waitress brought over a pint glass of ice-cold water, then moved away.
    Kiley sipped the water, wondering if she hadn’t asked for wine because she didn’t want to look like some pathetic creature, making those around her speculate that she was only pretending a son was expected. After all, a lady never drinks alone.
    The customers within her view disabused her quickly of the notion that anyone was even aware of her presence in the small tavern. Mostly men, mostly tucking into heavy dinners of meat loaf or fried chicken; even if they had made