“Consider it a birthday present,” Sam said as he saw Lucy’s expression. “When’s your birthday?”
“November.”
“A really early birthday present.”
“Thank you, but I can’t—”
“No strings attached.” Sam paused. “Well, maybe one string.”
“What is it?”
“You could tell me your full name.”
“Lucy Marinn.”
He reached out to shake hands, and she hesitated before complying. His grip was warm, the fingers slightly roughened with calluses. A workingman’s hand. Heat chased up her arm, as if her skin was coming alive, and she pulled back instantly.
“Let me walk you home,” Sam said.
Lucy shook her head. “You should go find your brother and keep him company. If his divorce was final today, he’s probably depressed.”
“He’ll still be depressed tomorrow. I’ll see him then.”
Mrs. O’Hehir, who had been listening from behind the counter, said, “Tell Alex he’s better off without her. And tell him to marry a nice island girl the next time.”
“I think by now all the nice island girls know better,” Sam said, and followed Lucy from the shop. “Look,” he said when they were outside, “I don’t want to be a pest, but I have to make sure you get home safely. If you’d prefer, I’ll follow at a distance.”
“How much of a distance?” she asked.
“The average restraining order, give or take a hundred yards.”
A reluctant laugh escaped her. “That won’t be necessary. You can walk with me.”
Obligingly Sam fell into step beside her.
As they proceeded to Artist’s Point, Lucy noticed the beginnings of a spectacular sunset, the sky glazed with orange and pink, the clouds gilded at the edges. It was a sight that, under different circumstances, she would have enjoyed.
“So what stage are you in now?” Sam asked.
“Stage?… Oh, you mean my postbreakup schedule. I guess I’m near the end of stage one.”
“Sarah MacLachlan and angry text messages.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t get the haircut,” he said.
“What?”
“The next stage. Haircut and new shoes. Don’t change your hair, it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Self-consciously Lucy tucked a long, dark lock behind her ear. “Actually, the haircut is stage three.”
They paused at a street corner, waiting for the light to change.
“At the moment,” Sam remarked, “we happen to be standing in front of a wine bar that serves the best mahi in the Pacific Northwest. What do you think about stopping for dinner?”
Lucy glanced through the window of the wine bar, where people sat in the glow of candlelight and seemed to be having a perfectly wonderful time. She returned her attention to Sam Nolan, who was watching her intently. Something was hidden beneath his nonchalance, not unlike the effect in a chiaroscuro painting.Clair-obscur,the French called it. Clear-obscure. She had the feeling that Sam Nolan wasn’t quite the uncomplicated character Justine had made him out to be.