That Summer Place: Island Time / Old Things / Private Paradise. Сьюзен Виггс

face was something better than youthful beauty.

      She had character.

      He had lived long enough to understand and respect that life did that to you, etched lines of experience on you that said to the world, “I’ve been there, done that, and lived through it.”

      On Catherine all that living only made her sexier.

      “Hi,” she said and walked calmly into the room, which suddenly felt smaller and warmer.

      Aly and Dana had come back downstairs earlier and had been talking to him. Well, Aly had been talking to him. Dana was sitting on the sofa, pretending to work on the puzzle when she wasn’t eyeing him like he was the Antichrist.

      Catherine came over to the sofa in that same old long-legged walk of hers that after all these years could still get him hot and tight.

      She poured herself a cup of coffee.

      Aly scooted over and patted the spot next to him. “Sit here, Mom.”

      “No!” Dana said so suddenly Catherine looked up from her coffee with a startled expression.

      The only sound for that split second was the rain on the roof, tapping tensely. It was the kind of constant monotonous warning sound that made you follow it with your hearing sharp and your breath held, waiting for the explosion.

      Catherine cast a quick apologetic glance at him, then gave a small shrug.

      So this wasn’t Dana’s normal behavior with men, he thought. It was him alone and not just any man that made her oldest daughter so protective.

      Catherine sat down next to Dana at the opposite end of the sofa. She looked up at him. “We were doing a jigsaw puzzle before the power went out.”

      He nodded. “So I see.”

      She looked at Dana, who was hunched over the table. “What piece are you looking for?”

      “Steve Tyler’s belly button,” she said without looking up.

      Catherine looked at him as if she didn’t know what to say to that, which Michael knew was why Dana had said it. Shock value.

      He reached out and picked up a puzzle piece and held it out to her. “Here, try this one.”

      Dana looked at it, then up at him, then took the piece.

      It fit.

      He winked at Catherine, who looked as if she wanted to strangle Dana. He shook his head slightly. It didn’t matter. Catherine needed to ignore her daughter’s behavior. It would work better than letting her teenager trap her into getting angry, which was Dana’s objective, even if she didn’t consciously know it.

      The tension in the room was so taut you couldn’t have broken through it with two hundred pounds of muscle and a timber ax.

      Aly was quietly sitting cross-legged next to him. She had a huge book propped in her lap and seemed oblivious to what was going on with her sister.

      Catherine looked at her and asked, “What are you reading?”

      “An encyclopedia.”

      “Oh.” Catherine frowned. “Why?”

      “I was just curious about something.”

      “What?”

      “Those slug things.” She looked up and grinned. “Slugs are just like you, Mom. They don’t have a mate.”

      Michael choked on his coffee and tried hard not to laugh.

      He had his answer. There was no man.

      Catherine just sat there numbly looking like Christmas in her bright green sweater and her even brighter red face.

      “It says here that they are mollusks.”

      He caught Catherine’s eye and told her exactly what he had been thinking. “Not only does Aly look just like you did at that age, she is you.”

      Catherine sighed and gave him a weak smile. “I know.”

      Aly groaned and slammed the book shut. “Everyone says that.” Then she stopped and looked back at her mother. “Not that you aren’t pretty, Mom. It’s just weird, you know?”

      “I understand, kiddo. At eleven you want your own identity, not your mother’s. I felt the same way. So did Dana.”

      “And at school everyone knows I’m Dana Winslow’s younger sister. Mr. Johnson, the science teacher, even calls me Dana sometimes.”

      Dana looked up then. “Do you answer him?”

      “I have to. If I don’t he thinks I’m not participating.” Aly got up and trounced over to the bookcase.

      There was another lapse of awkward silence.

      Catherine took a sip of coffee. “So. The island hasn’t changed much, has it?” She didn’t look at him.

      He should tell her now, that he had changed, that he wasn’t a handyman. He watched her and found himself staring at her hair. If she looks at me, he thought, I will tell her the truth.

      She stared into her coffee cup as if she were searching inside of it for something to say.

      Aly plopped back down next to him. “Mom says there’s plenty to do here. Fishing and sailing and stuff.”

      Before he could answer Dana asked, “Do you have a boat?”

      Michael nodded. “Yes.”

      The girl brightened suddenly. “Good, then you can take us back to the mainland.”

      “Dana!” Catherine looked at him then, clearly mortified. “I’m sorry. She seems to have forgotten her manners.” She paused and took a deep breath, clearly exasperated. “Dana doesn’t like it here.”

      “There’s nothing to do here.”

      Michael was quiet. He looked away from Catherine and into Dana’s sharp eyes. “The engine’s not running right.”

      Dana looked like she didn’t believe him. “What’s wrong with it?”

      Catherine groaned and buried her face in a hand, shaking her head.

      But he answered her daughter. “The plugs are bad and the points need to be replaced.” He stood up then. “I should leave.”

      Catherine stood up after him and followed him to the door as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know what. He could feel Dana watching them intently and figured she would have been walking in between them if she thought she could have gotten away with it.

      He took his jacket off the hook and put it on, then stepped out onto the porch, sat on the bench and pulled on his boots.

      Catherine was leaning against the door jamb with her arms crossed, watching him. She had one of those wistful smiles he remembered, the kind she had just before he used to grab her and kiss the hell out of her.

      “The rain’s stopped,” was all she said.

      He stood and took two steps to stand near her. He looked down at her face. “I’ve got good timing.”

      “I’m sorry about Dana.” She dropped her arms to her sides. “These teenage years aren’t easy.”

      He nodded, thinking that she was a teenager the last time he’d seen her.

      They stood there like that, not saying anything that mattered. It was as if they were both afraid to say what they were thinking.

      He looked away. “Thanks for the coffee.”

      “Anytime.”

      Neither of them spoke again for a long stretch of seconds. He felt like he was twenty again, standing on the same porch and wanting to touch her so badly he hurt with it. But knowing he couldn’t because her parents were right there