Page 53 of The Summer We Started Over

“That’s wild, Dinah! Pretty clever.”

“I have my ways,” Dinah said, and winked.

Eddie grinned. She went into the house, used the bathroom, stretched her arms, and headed for the kitchen. She took out a bottle of sparkling water, tilted her head back, and drank deeply. She took out the pitcher of iced tea and found their summer plastic glasses.

Her father came into the kitchen. “I see you’ve had some customers.”

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, Dad, we’ve already made thirty dollars and fifty cents.” She set the pastel glasses and the pitcher on a tray.

“That’s actually more than I thought you’d make,” William said.

“And we’ve only started!” She picked up the tray and handed it to her father. “Would you carry it out for me? It’s heavy.”

To her surprise, William froze. It was as if he’d forgotten how to walk. He wore an expression she had never seen on her father before and it took her a few seconds to name it.

Was her father actuallyshy?

During the weeks Dinah had been here, William had never spent much time around her. He’d become even more of a hermit, tucked away in his study or slipping out the front door to his car and driving away. Of course, the entire household was coming and going, but still…

Was it possible that her father had a crush on Dinah? Why hadn’t Eddie realized this was possible? Dinah was a gorgeous woman and Eddie’s father was a living, breathing man.

“Come on, Dad,” Eddie said. “Let’s go out and enjoy the day. The humidity is low for once, and it’s cool inside the barn.” Was she babbling? Eddie felt the urge to laugh hysterically, but managed to tamp it down.

She held the kitchen door open for her father as he walked out on to the porch and down the steps and over the lawn to the barn.

Dinah was putting more of her books on the shelf. She turned and saw Eddie’s father.

“Oh, William,” she gushed. “You’ve brought tea. How marvelous!”

“Here, Dad,” Eddie directed. “Put the tray on the table. Sit in that nice old leather chair.”

“I’m not staying,” William replied, bending to set the tray down. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Oh, please stay,” Dinah said. “I’ve been wanting to talk with you about your book.”

William perched on the edge of the chair. “I don’t think my book would be interesting to you. It’s a critical exploration of the British Romantic poets.”

“Yes, Eddie told me.” Dinah poured a glass of tea and handed it to William as she quoted, “And there I shut her wild wild eyes with kisses four.”

What?Eddie wondered if Dinah had lost it.

Her father cleared his throat. “I admit I’m surprised that you know Keats.”

Dinah poured another glass and handed it to Eddie, who was leaning against a book bin, silent with shock.

“How could I not know ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’?” Dinah sank down in the other leather chair and crossed her long legs. “I write romantic novels.”

William spoke with his eyes pointed at his tea, as if unwilling to face Dinah. “Yes. Your books are called romance novels, but they’re different from what I write. Your books, for example, have a wide audience.”

“That’s true,” Dinah said sweetly. “I have hundreds of thousands of readers.”

William’s face went pink. “My book isn’t meant for so many people. It’s based on research. It’s meant to be intellectually stimulating.”

“I see.” Dinah’s words were honey-covered as she asked, “Whereas my books arephysicallystimulating?”

William’s face went red. “I couldn’t say,” he replied. “I’ve never read one.”

Dinah lit up like the sky on the Fourth of July. “Oh, William, I’d love it if you’d read one of my books. And I’d love to read yours!”

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