The Deep Blue Sea for Beginners by Luanne Rice Page B

posting, British companies with Manhattan offices. “But your first name is Italian.”
    “It is. My mother was born in Naples, came here to work. My parents met at the marina. I’m called ‘Rafe,’ mostly. It went over better in New York than ‘Rafaele.’”
    She laughed. “Do you mind if I ask what you were doing just now?”
    “Walking the beach,” he said.
    “No, I mean with that. It’s a starfish, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah,” he said, holding his hand out, as she seemed to want to see. She bent close, touching one spiny arm with her finger. Morning light glinted on her ebony hair. When she glanced up, he saw electric blue eyes.
    “What are you doing with it?”
    “Saving its life,” he said, flinging the starfish as hard as he could into the deep water.
    “Why do you have to?” she asked. “Won’t it take care of itself?”
    He glared at her. Was she kidding? “I guess you don’t hang around the sea much. There are these things called tides. They come in and go out every six hours. Starfish can usually make it between normal tides if seagulls don’t get them, if the sun doesn’t dry them out.”
    “But the moon’s full, so the tides are more extreme, and the starfish get stranded. I get it.”
    She sounded so nice, calm, even in spite of his nasty sarcasm. In rehab he’d learned that his character defects came out full-force when he felt like using. He gave her an apologetic look.
    “Sorry for being a jerk.”
    “Sorry you’re having a bad day,” she said. She gave him a smile tinged with irony, then started walking away.
    “You came all the way down to make sure I wasn’t doing something evil to the starfish?”
    “I kind of have a thing for them,” she said. “Seahorses too. Are there any of those around?”
    “Not on Capri, but nearby,” he said. “A whole colony on the Faraglioni.”
    “Where’s that?”
    “You don’t know?” he asked. “Wow.”
    “I just got here,” she said.
    “Man. The Faraglioni. Limestone colossi, cool islands off the other side of Capri. They’re on every other postcard.”
    “Seahorses are there, really?”
    He nodded.
    “I would love to see them,” she said, sounding wistful. He glanced at the boat tied at the end of the dock. He could take her himself, but her mother would probably kill him when they returned.
    “Lots to see around here,” he said, steering away from the idea.
    “I know,” she said. “Tiberius’s Leap, the Villa Jovis, Rock of the Sirens. I’ve been reading guidebooks about Capri my whole life.”
    “You left out the Grotta Azzurra,” he said.
    “Of course, how could I? The Blue Grotto.”
    “I was kidding. You know it’s a tourist trap, right? There are better, unspoiled caves all along the coast. We have some right here on the property.”
    “I live in Newport, Rhode Island. We invented tourist places.”
    “Newport?” he asked. “Do you know Ty Cooper?”
    “He goes to my school,” she said. “Plays football with my boyfriend.”
    “Weird,” Rafe said. “He lived in my building in the city. So, you grew up in Newport.”
    “I grew up in Michigan, but I’ve lived in Newport the last few years,” she said. “Look, another starfish.”
    “Good eyes,” he said, crouching down. Then he turned to her. “Why don’t you take care of this one?”
    “Okay” she said.
    He watched her bend down, carefully remove the starfish from the black rock. She walked to the water’s edge, wound up, and gave a really respectable throw. The starfish landed between waves with a light splash.
    “Starfish and seahorses,” he said, giving her a quizzical look.
    “It’s a long story,” she said. “You?”
    “Also a long story.”
    “Hmm,” she said, gazing at him. For a minute he thought of asking her to sit on the dock, so they could exchange personal tales about sea creatures. But again he thought of Lyra, didn’t feel like rocking that boat.
    “I’d better go,” Pell said. “My sister is calling