Page 74 of The Summer We Started Over

“What’s going on?” Eddie whispered to Barrett.

“I can’t even guess!” Barrett hissed back. “I think Dinah is hypnotizing Dad.”

“Let’s get back there!” Eddie ordered.

They brought out the platter of Bartlett’s desserts.

“Dinah, Dad, what would you like?” Eddie asked. “We have a blueberry pie, chocolate mousse, or tiramisu.”

“Can we have two desserts?” Dinah asked.

“Of course!” Eddie replied.

“You have a sweet tooth,” William remarked as he helped himself to blueberry pie.

Dinah had chocolate mousse on her plate and a spot of whipped cream on her lips. She smiled at William. “I certainly do.” She licked her spoon, closed her eyes, and moaned quietly.

William blushed.

Eddie looked at Barrett, who read her mind. Their father hadblushed.

William wrenched his focus onto his pie. He took a bite, swallowed it, and said to Dinah, “You seem to have an impressive knowledge of the Romantic poets.”

“I love romance,” Dinah told him. Leaning closer to him, she said, “I would love to read the book you’re working on.”

William looked absolutely terrified.

He choked out, “It…it’s not ready for anyone else to read.”

“ButI’mnot just anybody,” Dinah reminded him. “I have no connection with anyone in your very exclusive intellectual circles but I do,as you say, know a lot about the Romantic poets.” She leaned even closer to him, her creamy bosom swelling. “I’d letyouread one ofmybooks.”

William looked stunned. “I don’t…I don’t have time to read contemporary fiction.”

Eddie cried, “Oh, go on, Dad! It will do you good to lighten up!”

“Yes, Dad, go on,” Barrett echoed.

William gazed around the table at the three women. “I’ll think about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Eddie, thank you for the dinner. Good night.”

He quickly left from the room.

Barrett waited until her father had shut his study door before speaking.

“Dad’s always been defensive about his work.”

Dinah nodded. “Yes, of course he has. As have I. For some reason, the literary world scorns romance. Yet any and all of those critics want romance in their lives.Needromance.”

“Why?” Barrett demanded. “Why?”

Dinah spoke gently. “Because romance stirs up our endorphins, and we always need little hits from the chemicals that are released when we fall in love. When we fall in love, we float on our pleasure into marriage, where we love profoundly, if we are lucky. But in marriage, reality comes stomping in like a smelly old warthog, crushing us with rent, mortgage, accidents, toothaches, difficult relatives, babies who won’t sleep through the night. We lose our sense of romance beneath the problems of everyday life. Reading a romance novel wakes up our endorphins, relaxes and releases us from the grip of necessity to the pleasure of being with another person. It makes you remember how it felt when you were in love and your lover was sitting next to you and he simply touched your hand. Just one light touch, and you’re happy.” She smiled and nodded to herself, as if remembering.

“Is that why you never married?” Eddie asked.

Dinah’s smile was gentle, wistful. “Yes. That’s why. And I got to enjoy many romances, and I intend to enjoy many more.”

“Me, too.” The sisters spoke at the same time and the three women laughed.

“Let’s go to Madaket,” Eddie suggested. “If we go now, we’ll be there for the sunset.”

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