Page 84 of The Book of Summer

“Yes.” She jiggles her shoulders. “Sorry. I’m a little… not myself. Really. It’s sweet of you to come. Iamhungry. Starving, as a matter of fact. But shouldn’t you be somewhere?”

“You mean work? Nah. We had to cut out early because of the rain. It’s not a problem though as we’re way ahead of schedule. Please reserve your shock. Anyway, you need more help here than my guys do over there.”

“That is clearly true.”

Bess glances down. She does need assistance, in myriad ways, including the fact that she’s back at it with the Boston College sweatpants and free-hanging boobs. She makes Ball Cap Lady look like Nantucket’s foremost leader in fashion.

“But really,” she says. “I can’t subject you to this mayhem. It wouldn’t be polite.”

“You’re turning down free labor?” Evan says, and cocks a brow. “That’s not smart. Especially considering.” He looks around. “This house is not even minimally packed.”

“True story. But going through someone else’s mess? What a nightmare.”

“Better than going through your own mess,” Evan says with a wink. “I won’t take no for an answer. Wow, this old house…”

Evan walks farther into the home, focus shifting from floor to ceiling as he goes. Every couple feet he knocks on a wall or runs his hand along a molding, admiring the work.

“It’s so beautiful,” he says. “And so much… the same.”

“You mean the decor? Yeah, well, Cissy’s too busy raising hell to bother with renovations or keeping up with trends.”

“Lucky house,” Evan says, and stops beneath the three-hundred-pound black iron lantern hanging thirty feet above.

They are in the center hall, the heart of the home. Whereas everything else in the place is beginning to look tired, a little shabby, definitely worn, this room steals the show. Aside from the dark wood floors, it’s entirely white, the paint and wainscoting exquisitely kept. The hall is six-sided, two-storied, and has a staircase running in a spiral around its walls. Though the chandelier is daunting and grand, not to mention handcrafted in her great-grandfather’s factory, it’s the thirty transom windows and the Atlantic blue that illuminate the room.

“I can see why you guys refuse to move,” Evan says, and meets eyes with Bess.

“Oh, I want to move…”

“No you don’t.”

Evan hooks right toward the kitchen, but not before tapping the stair above the room’s entrance.

“The kitchen is different,” he notes, once inside.

“Yeah, well, everyone updates their kitchen. Even Cissy.”

“It looks great.” Evan shakes his head. “This is such a stunning old home.”

He sets down the bag, and then the tray of coffee. Bess counts three cups.

“Where should we start?” Evan asks.

He picks up his coffee, and takes a sip. Then he nods toward the other two cups.

“Help yourself. I don’t think we drank coffee back in high school but I got you black. Figured it was your style.”

“So you view me plain and dark?” Bess says with a small laugh.

“Strong and unaffected.”

Bess blushes. Already her tenderness toward him is returning. No use punishing the poor guy. He’s done precisely nothing wrong.

“So which is mine?” Bess asks. “By the way, if the other one’s for Cissy, you’ve wasted your money. She’s been gone since daybreak. Where? Who knows. Trying to write up a proposal for some sort of geotube plot, I’d assume. They’re holding an emergency meeting tonight.”

“Yeah I’ve heard. Repeatedly and with many curse words involved. Alas, both coffees are for you.”

“Both?” Bess says. “Wow, the bags under my eyes must be getting worse.”

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