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“Maybe I am, too. I don’t know,” Tristan said. “She’s different.”
“Well, duh!” Krista exclaimed. “Even I know that!”
The Crab Shack door opened again and a couple of older men walked out, talking loudly about some fishing trip. It seemed to take them forever to move away from the door and walk by. As soon as they’d disappeared around the corner, I held my breath and listened.
“—even sure that she’s a lifer,” Tristan was saying.
“Whatever,” Krista said. “If you want me to back off, fine. I’ll back off. You’ve made it perfectly clear who’s in charge around here.”
She was about to storm away. If she came out of the alley onto the boardwalk I was screwed. Glancing around, I quickly ducked behind a tall potted evergreen shrub outside the Crab Shack and held my breath. After a few seconds, I hazarded a glance around the side of the topiary and saw Krista storming along the wood planks in the direction from which I’d come, headed back toward town.
I stayed there, hidden, and waited for Tristan to go back inside. And waited. And waited. Every second I expected him to pop around the corner and snag me. But then, after what seemed like forever, I finally heard the door squeal open and slam shut again. I let out the breath I’d been holding and walked slowly toward the water. A few empty benches sat facing the bay, hovering over a small beach where two seagulls roosted in the freshly combed sand.
I sat down on the warm sand and watched as a huge fishing boat moved toward the docks to my right, its bell clanging. I sighed and went over Tristan and Krista’s conversation in my mind.
First of all, there was no reason to believe that Tristan and Krista had been talking about me. They could have been talking about anyone. There was that. But then, Krista had been really eager, and after yesterday, Tristan knew I had a lot of questions about him, too. So they could have been talking about me. I supposed I should have felt grateful toward Tristan for trying to help me out with Krista.
But what was a lifer, and why would I be one?
I finished up my stretching and strolled toward home, not even daring to give the Thirsty Swan or its back alley another glance.
“So, wait. You’ve never played a musical instrument? Not even, like, ‘Chopsticks’ on the piano?” Olive asked, her eyes wide.
We were sitting on a brocade couch against one of the light yellow walls in Tristan’s living room as dozens of kids talked and laughed and flirted around us. The air was cool, thanks to the breeze moving through the wide windows, and the steady hum of conversation filled me from the inside out. Olive had been right about the interior of the house being just as impressive as the outside. The whole place smelled of wood polish and coconut sunscreen, like some kind of upscale beach resort. All the furniture was antique and perfectly maintained, with colorful cushions and whimsically mismatched pillows. Across the room stood a massive fireplace with a single, mosaic tile vase at the center of its mantel. There were no other knickknacks, no stacks of magazines, no family pictures. Clearly Tristan’s parents kept it simple.
I hadn’t see Tristan or Krista yet. Darcy stood near the sliding doors to the patio, flirting with Joaquin, which was good. Tonight was important to her. Thank god Joaquin wasn’t screwing it up.
“Well, back in grade school we had required music class, so I guess I’ve used a tambourine and some bongo drums, but not since I was eight or nine.” I shifted in my seat, moving my bag to my side. “I’ve never really been into it.”
“Wow.” Olive sat back, looking out at the party in shock. “Do you want to learn? I could teach you how to play guitar.”
I hesitated. I liked Olive and I didn’t want to let her down, but learning to play an instrument had never crossed my mind in my life.
“Come on!” she wheedled, pinching my arm. “I went running with you! Who knows, maybe you’ll like it.”
Be unpredictable, Rory, I told myself. Life is short.
“You know what? Sure. I’d love to learn,” I said.
“Cool.” Olive’s face completely lit up. “Why don’t we meet up for breakfast tomorrow at the general store? Then we can go back to my room at the boardinghouse, and I’ll show you the basics.”
“Sounds good.”
She dug around in her bag and came out with a small pad and a pencil. “I’ll write down the address and room number for you,” she said. “It’s Mrs. Chen’s boardinghouse on Freesia. The landlady’s totally nosy, but her place has killer acoustics.”
She tore off the scrap of paper, and I tucked it into my pocket. “How long have you played guitar?”
“Ever since I was little,” she replied, reaching for her cup of water. The sleeve of her sweater started to ride up, and she tugged it back down again. She tucked her free hand under her arm like she was cold.
“Then you probably noticed that guy in the park,” I said. “The one who was playing for money every day?”
Olive’s eyes narrowed over the edge of her red cup as she considered. “No. When was this?”
At that moment, Tristan and Krista appeared at the bottom of the wide stairway. He wore a white T-shirt under an open, blue plaid button-down and cargo shorts. She had on a flowy, light pink dress that swished around her knees when she moved. They really did make a stunning pair, and for the first time I saw what Olive meant about how they were treated like the prince and princess of Juniper Landing. As they moved through the living room, everyone stopped what they were doing to greet them. I could almost imagine some of them wanting to dip into curtsies and bows.
Just as I had the thought, Tristan looked over at us, and our eyes locked. I felt warm all over, like he somehow knew what I was thinking. Then Kevin and Fisher commandeered him by the keg, and the moment passed. I half expected Krista to come over and demand a hair makeover, but instead she found Lauren and Bea by the fireplace and started to chat. Maybe she and Tristan had been talking about me this afternoon. It definitely looked as if she was heeding his warning to back off.
My heart raced at the thought, but I returned my
