Page 90 of The Summer We Started Over

“Oh, look!” Barrett said, nudging Paul. “That’s almost as beautiful as the statues you make.”

“That’s because I made it,” Paul told her, trying to look cool.

Barrett gasped. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I’mgoing to bid on it!” Barrett told him.

She squeezed through the mob to stand in front of the statue.

The paper tablet in front of the statue held a list of bids already made. The largest was for three thousand.

“Three thousand dollars?” Barrett was stunned.

A woman standing next to her said, “I think it’s worth that much, if not more. Look at the detail work. The waves parting as Poseidon rises. And his beard.” Gently nudging Barrett aside, she bent and bid three thousand five hundred.

Paul whispered, “Let’s get some air.”

He led her through the throng out to the lawn and along the brick walk down to the benches overlooking the harbor. The buzz of conversation and a few notes from the jazz band drifted down to the water.

“Paul,” Barrett said. “Good Lord! I had no idea.”

“I’ve been carving since I was a kid. I’m fascinated by the figureheads on ships. It’s been done for centuries, in all countries that sail the seas. They bring luck and protection. Someday I want to do large-scale carving.”

“How would you do something as large as a figurehead?”

“I’d need a studio, of course. I rent a garage now.”

“But the beautiful carvings you bring to my shop. You could sell them for so much more in art galleries.”

“No. I want them to be sold only in Nantucket Blues. This way I get to see you.”

Barrett nudged him. “You can always see me.”

“Not the way I’d like to see you. Not with any privacy. I live with my parents. Lame, I know.”

“Why? I live withmyparents. Well, my father. But it’s good for both of us. Someday I’ll be able to buy a small house, or have one built on our property. Half the people I know live with their parents. How can we afford to buy a house when doctors and teachers can’t? This island has been taken over by billionaires.”

Paul shrugged. “Yeah, but not its heart. Not its soul.”

Barrett gazed up at Paul, flooded with emotion, deep desire, crazy lust, joy mixed with terror. She whispered, “That’s lovely.”

He turned toward her, pulled her close, and kissed her for a long time.

“Okay, boys and girls, let’s move this show somewhere else.”

Barrett glanced up. Her friend Annie was coming down the path toward them.

“Who made you the party police?”

Annie sat down on the bench, squeezing Barrett closer to Paul.

“Look at this view. Amazing. Several people are wandering down this way to see it, and I thought I’d better warn you beforeyoubecamethe view.”

Before Barrett or Paul could respond, voices drifted through the warm night air and a small crowd arrived, some with drinks in their hands, some chattering like parrots, and one woman complaining about her daughter-in-law’s lack of manners.

“Thank you,” Barrett said to Annie.

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