“That’s a shame,” Goldie said. “I don’t have any pets at the moment, either, unless you count Kitty.”
“And who is Kitty, then?” Cosimo sipped his coffee, barely suppressing a smile.
“Kitty is a humpback whale.” Despite her efforts to maintain a certain level of decorum, Goldie grinned like a child. “She visits with me quite often whenever I leave the island. I’ve known her for years.”
Cosimo didn’t say a word, but he nodded slowly as he continued to study her. He was either charmed, and thought this made sense, or he was convinced she was crazy.
“Kitty is a local legend,” she explained. “She comes out to meet the ferry pretty frequently. Happens almost every time I go out.”
“Well.” Cosimo’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “I must say, that’s a new one. I’ve never had breakfast with anyone who has a whale familiar.” He held out a congratulatory hand, as if to shake. Without thinking, she placed her palm in his.
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Goldie said. “She’s more like a whalefriend. She’s spotted frequently in these waters. I just seem to have more luck than most at spying on her. She really seems to like this area. I do, too.” She was really prattling on now.
“Mmm hmmm.” Cosimo wasn’t shaking her hand. He was just holding it and gazing at her. And the strange thing wasn’t that this much younger stranger was holding her hand and gazing into her eyes. It was that she really didn’t want him to stop. She couldn’t tear her gaze away.
The clatter of plates broke their trance. Goldie snatched her hand back. She clutched her hands together beneath the table, twisting at her cuff, the way one might tug a naughty child by its collar.
“Watch it, the plates are hot,” the server warned. Gingerly, she set the plates down in front of them. Goldie inhaled deeply. Nothing would ever compare to the French toast her father used to make from leftover challah bread every Sunday in their tiny Brooklyn flat. The French toast here was acceptable, though, if a little stingy on the toppings.
“Take my fruit.” Cosimo offered her his strawberries.
“Are you sure?” She hesitated. It was almost as if he could read her mind.
“I won’t eat them.” He slid a fork under a lush berry and transferred it to her plate.
“Thank you.” Goldie waited while he transferred the other two. Four or five berries would have been more than enough. Six almost was an embarrassment of riches. “I feel spoiled.” She savored one of the sweet berries and drizzled some syrup on the bread.
“As well you should be.” Cosimo spoke quietly, as he sliced into his French toast. He dissected it with the precision of a surgeon, reducing the slice to a pile of squares so perfectly similar and symmetrical, she might have used them as tiles in her artwork.
“Seriously, though,” Goldie said once she had swallowed the berry. “Tell me more about you. Why are you here?”
And why did you want to have breakfast with me?
She sliced her own French toast in irregular-shaped triangles.
Cosimo sighed, and Goldie sensed a certain reluctance on his part. It was almost as if he didn’t want to tell her something. Did he know something? She set down her utensils.
“What? What is it?” she asked.
“Well, you were right. I’m not a tourist,” Cosimo admitted. “I’m an astronomer of sorts. And also a film buff. I used to write a column ages ago. You might say I’m somewhat obsessed with old stars.” He smiled wryly.
Goldie’s heart thumped a little harder.
Cosimo closed his eyes and shook his head slowly at his own joke. “I’m sorry, that was probably the worst joke I’ve told this century.” He set down his utensils. “The long and the short of it is that I’m in town for the film festival next month. Did you know it coincides with a significant eclipse? The island is right in its path. I came a bit early to get the lay of the land. There’s also someone I’m hoping to run into and catch up with while I’m here. Someone I’ve been missing.”
“It’s not me, is it?” she blurted. Now she was blurting as well as prattling on. Whatever was the matter with her?
“Are you a missing person?” His smile was surprisingly kind.
“There’s a difference between going missing and being missed.” Goldie wrinkled her nose. She’d certainly done her share of the first. She wasn’t so sure about the second. Goldie placed her hands back on the table, willing them to behave this time.
“I’m sure you’d be sorely missed if you went missing, Goldie.” Cosimo squeezed her hand with one of his, still cool to the touch. Then he reached backward into his jacket, hanging on the chair. He pulled out a brochure for the film festival. The image on the cover was an old poster forThe Mermaid’s Whisper, her blockbuster film that was shot on the island.
Cosimo tilted his head and studied her. “Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like this actress, Ondalune?”
Goldie leaned forward. She pretended to study the image, hoping he couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart. She summoned more acting skills than she had for the entire film when she leaned back again, shrugging nonchalantly. “I told you, people mistake me for someone else all the time.”
“Yes, you said.” Cosimo nodded, tapping the photo. “But you have to admit, there’s something special about her. Something … timeless.”
