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His eyes dropped to her chest again, and she tightened her arms. “I'll let you know.” She stepped out of the room and glanced at Charlotte. “Thanks for stopping—”
The ringing of her phone interrupted her, and when she saw it was Will, she let it go to voice mail and turned to George.
“Sorry. Um, I'll let Charlotte know about the darkroom, and she can let you know. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely,” he answered.
Charlotte and George both said their goodbyes, and Elizabeth waited until she heard the motorcycle drive away, then called Will.
“Sorry about that,” she said when he answered. “Charlotte stopped by with the guy she just started seeing. He wants to use my darkroom, but I don’t know. He’s kind of strange. Maybe it’s because he's Bill's cousin.”
“That would do it. And how is Bill? He didn’t ask you out again, did he?”
“No...but he brought me flowers today,” she said lightly.
“What?You're kidding! Did he really bring you flowers?”
She laughed. “Yes. Very pretty ones, I might add. Beautiful vase.”
She couldn't help but tease him.Just a little.
He groaned. “Apparently heismy competition, whether you think so or not. I guess I'll have to step up my game.”
“You're doing just fine.”
“I thought I was, but now I'm not so sure. Other than that, how was the rest of your day?”
They each talked about their respective workdays, and then he told her he’d had lunch with Charles.
“I told him we went out to dinner this week.” He paused. “I was pretty surprised when he called me a little while ago to let me know you might be coming to Boston this weekend.”
She grimaced. “It was Jane’s idea. She thought it would be fun if I came up on Saturday, and maybe the four of us could do something together. But it’s fine if you have other plans. I know you probably have to get back to the Cape, and I don't want to assume—”
“Elizabeth, stop. It sounds great. Mrs. Reynolds will spend the weekend with Georgie.”
“Are you sure? I don't want you to rearrange your plans.”
“My only plan for the weekend was to see you. It makes no difference to me where we are.”
His voice, so low and quiet, sent a shiver up her spine. “All right then, I guess it's decided. Boston it is.”
“When do you think you'll be here?”
“I have to check the bus schedule and let you know.”
“Why don’t you drive in?”
“Ihatedriving into Boston. I always take the bus, then I don’t have to worry about parking, and I can read or listen to music. Before I know it, I'm there.”
“You're not taking the bus. I'll come and get you, or I'll send a car for you.”
“You're not coming all the way here to get me, only to turn around and go back. And there is no way I will let you send a car for me.”
“But I don't want you to take the bus. It's—”
“It's what? Public transportation?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re being a snob. I'm taking the bus, end of discussion.”
It was silent for a moment.
