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He grinned. “I work in corporate real estate.”
She waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t she prodded him. “And…?”
“And…that's it. The company has been in my family for years. When my father died, I took it over.”
“And what exactly does a corporate real estate company do? Buy and sell office buildings?”
“Sort of. We invest in buildings that are vacant, or nearing vacancy. New construction isn't always feasible in large cities, so the supply of office space can be limited. Existing buildings are attractive and valuable. We own buildings in major cities all over the country, and we just finished a completely green renovation of an office building in Boston.”
“Wow, that's quite an accomplishment.”
“Thanks. Right now we’re working on developing a new division of the company that will focus solely on green design. So instead of working on existing properties, we’ll design brand-new eco-friendly, sustainable properties, from top to bottom. We hope to launch it from San Francisco. My cousin is in charge of things out there, so he’s been working his tail off, trying to hire architects and get things moving.”
“That’s fantastic,” she said. “Very forward-thinking.”
As engrossed in their conversation as they’d been, they weren't aware of how far they’d walked, and she realized they were standing in front of the inn where they’d had their first ill-fated meeting.
“Ah, we return to the scene of the crime!” William joked, and looked at his watch. “Almost two weeks ago to the minute, we were having a very unpleasant conversation. I believe you accused me ofaccostingyou.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Well, I have a saying about the past and that is to remember it only as it gives you pleasure. Maybe we can agree to forget what happened then. What do you think?”
He smiled. “Consider it forgotten. But we should head back before we're missed.”
They turned back and while they walked, he told her a little about his college years at Harvard and his ongoing friendly rivalry with Charles, who’d graduated from Yale. Elizabeth told him about the presentation she’d given at work, and he asked her to tell him more about Monday Night Madness. He laughed when she told him that “what happens at Madness stays at Madness.”
She asked him about his guitar playing, and he told her it was—or used to be—a well-guarded secret. They discovered they had similar tastes in music and began discussing concerts they’d attended. She mentioned that she frequently went with her sisters and Charlotte, and took advantage of the opportunity to mention Lydia.
“I want to apologize again for her behavior at Whimsy. Sometimes she just doesn't know when enough is enough. I have to admit, I'm not sorry she couldn't come today. I would have felt like I needed to keep an eye on her the entire time.”
“You don’t need to apologize for her—but I'm really not sorry she couldn't come either.”
When they arrived at the beach in front of Charles's house, William turned and looked at the ocean. “I wonder how cold it is.”
Without waiting for a response from her, he walked into the water up to his calves, and his eyes grew wide, making Elizabeth laugh.
“My guess is that it’s pretty cold.” She waded in up to her ankles, but went no further. “It’s freezing!”
She bent over to examine what she thought was a piece of sea glass under the water, and heard him quietly mimic the clucking of a chicken. She turned to face him, her hands on her hips.
“I amnota chicken. I've gone swimming in water much colder than this.”Without a stitch of clothing on. But he just kept clucking, and she shook her head. “I'm not going any further. My clothes will get wet.”
“Not if you roll them up. And it feels good once you get used to it.” He grimaced. “Actually, my legs are numb. I can't feel a thing.” He held out his hands. “Come on.”
She couldn't resist a challenge—or a dare, whichever this happened to be—so she rolled up her pants, then reached to take hold of his hands. He slowly pulled her to within a foot of where he stood. She released his hands and looked down, and saw that the cuffs of her capris were soaked.
“There,” he said, sounding quite pleased with himself. “Doesn't it feel good?”
She shook her head, making him laugh, and when the band went into a slower number, he held out his hand again.
“Shall we dance?”
She was incredulous. “Do you mean to tell me that the certified wallflower has found someone he could beremotelyinterested in dancing with?”
He cringed. “Ouch. Another jab. What about remembering the past as it gives you pleasure? I thought we agreed to a truce?”
She said nothing, only arched an eyebrow.
“Come on, I'll be the perfect gentleman. I promise.” He winked, and out came the dimples.
