love this place, and I like to think I’m giving something back to the community.”
“You’ve always loved it,” I said. “I remember that, from when we were kids. I couldn’t imagine having such an attachment to a place. My father’s family’s lived in Boston since before the Revolution, but he’d move in a shot if he could make more money someplace else.”
He smiled. “My family’s been here on the Outer Banks since the 1700s. The men went to sea, the women worked at fish plants, down through the generations. Perhaps that’s why we have such an attachment to the lighthouses.”
“You didn’t become a fisherman, though, did you?” Connor’s accent was deep and Southern, but there were no rough edges to it. He sounded as if he’d been raised in a plantation house. “What have you done with yourself since that summer? On your way to becoming the mayor?”
“That’s a lot of years to cover in one night, Lucy. No, I didn’t really fish, other than high school and college summers, working on charter boats. My parents wanted more for me than that. I’m an only child. My mom made sure I concentrated on my schoolwork. You must remember that I was the dorky kid sitting at home on a Saturday night, poring overbooks, while the other boys rode their bikes through town and took girls to bonfires at the beach.”
I blushed and hoped he couldn’t see in the soft light. “You took me to a bonfire at the beach.”
“I suppose I was a normal kid some of the time. My parents saved every penny they could for my education. That, plus some scholarships, got me into Duke, and then to med school at UNC. I am, truth be told, a dentist.”
“A dentist!”
He laughed. “You sound so surprised. Yes, I’m a dentist. I’ve cut my practice down a fair amount while I’m mayor, but I still have some hours, to keep my hand in and to serve my regular patients.”
We leaned back to allow the waiter to put our drinks in front of us. He recited the night’s specials and left us to consider the menu.
“I can never resist she-crab soup,” I said. Butch Greenblatt came onto the patio. For a moment I considered crawling into my menu. Butch had invited me to have dinner here with him recently. He had canceled, hadn’t he? Nothing wrong with me having dinner with the mayor. Nothing at all.
“Evenin’, Lucy, Mr. Mayor.”
“Butch,” I said, “How lovely to see you. Case all resolved, is it?”
“We’ve haven’t ordered yet,” Connor said. “Would you like to join us?”
Nothing awkward about that. Nothing at all.
But Butch didn’t seem to mind. “No, thanks. I saw you folks sitting outside and came to say hi. I’m picking up something to go. We’re working latedown at the station.” He glanced around, lowered his voice. “About . . . you know.”
“Any developments?”
“A few. Look, this isn’t really the time or the place to talk, but a word of advice, Lucy. Don’t get too attached to your job, okay?”
“What are you saying?”
“I . . .”
“Hey, look who’s here.” Josie swung onto the patio in a flurry of flowing blond hair, tiny shorts, and high-heeled sandals. Every man in the place almost choked on his food. “Having a nice dinner? Why are you standing up, Butch? We can find a bigger table.”
“I’m not staying, just picking up something Jake prepared for me and the detectives.”
“Nice,” she said. “Jake doesn’t usually do takeout, but anything for his little bro, eh?”
Right on cue, a waitress arrived, bearing a white paper sack. My mouth watered at the scents rising from it. She handed it to Butch; he mumbled good-byes, threw me a glance, and took his leave.
I grabbed my glass and gulped down a mouthful of wine. I reminded myself that I wasn’t dating Butch. I wasn’t dating Connor, either. I was having dinner in a public place with a person who happened to be a man. A handsome, single man. A childhood friend. No need to feel guilty.
None at all.
I threw back
“You’ve always loved it,” I said. “I remember that, from when we were kids. I couldn’t imagine having such an attachment to a place. My father’s family’s lived in Boston since before the Revolution, but he’d move in a shot if he could make more money someplace else.”
He smiled. “My family’s been here on the Outer Banks since the 1700s. The men went to sea, the women worked at fish plants, down through the generations. Perhaps that’s why we have such an attachment to the lighthouses.”
“You didn’t become a fisherman, though, did you?” Connor’s accent was deep and Southern, but there were no rough edges to it. He sounded as if he’d been raised in a plantation house. “What have you done with yourself since that summer? On your way to becoming the mayor?”
“That’s a lot of years to cover in one night, Lucy. No, I didn’t really fish, other than high school and college summers, working on charter boats. My parents wanted more for me than that. I’m an only child. My mom made sure I concentrated on my schoolwork. You must remember that I was the dorky kid sitting at home on a Saturday night, poring overbooks, while the other boys rode their bikes through town and took girls to bonfires at the beach.”
I blushed and hoped he couldn’t see in the soft light. “You took me to a bonfire at the beach.”
“I suppose I was a normal kid some of the time. My parents saved every penny they could for my education. That, plus some scholarships, got me into Duke, and then to med school at UNC. I am, truth be told, a dentist.”
“A dentist!”
He laughed. “You sound so surprised. Yes, I’m a dentist. I’ve cut my practice down a fair amount while I’m mayor, but I still have some hours, to keep my hand in and to serve my regular patients.”
We leaned back to allow the waiter to put our drinks in front of us. He recited the night’s specials and left us to consider the menu.
“I can never resist she-crab soup,” I said. Butch Greenblatt came onto the patio. For a moment I considered crawling into my menu. Butch had invited me to have dinner here with him recently. He had canceled, hadn’t he? Nothing wrong with me having dinner with the mayor. Nothing at all.
“Evenin’, Lucy, Mr. Mayor.”
“Butch,” I said, “How lovely to see you. Case all resolved, is it?”
“We’ve haven’t ordered yet,” Connor said. “Would you like to join us?”
Nothing awkward about that. Nothing at all.
But Butch didn’t seem to mind. “No, thanks. I saw you folks sitting outside and came to say hi. I’m picking up something to go. We’re working latedown at the station.” He glanced around, lowered his voice. “About . . . you know.”
“Any developments?”
“A few. Look, this isn’t really the time or the place to talk, but a word of advice, Lucy. Don’t get too attached to your job, okay?”
“What are you saying?”
“I . . .”
“Hey, look who’s here.” Josie swung onto the patio in a flurry of flowing blond hair, tiny shorts, and high-heeled sandals. Every man in the place almost choked on his food. “Having a nice dinner? Why are you standing up, Butch? We can find a bigger table.”
“I’m not staying, just picking up something Jake prepared for me and the detectives.”
“Nice,” she said. “Jake doesn’t usually do takeout, but anything for his little bro, eh?”
Right on cue, a waitress arrived, bearing a white paper sack. My mouth watered at the scents rising from it. She handed it to Butch; he mumbled good-byes, threw me a glance, and took his leave.
I grabbed my glass and gulped down a mouthful of wine. I reminded myself that I wasn’t dating Butch. I wasn’t dating Connor, either. I was having dinner in a public place with a person who happened to be a man. A handsome, single man. A childhood friend. No need to feel guilty.
None at all.
I threw back
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