Page 73 of Stony Point Summer
twenty-seven
— Now —
THE HOURGLASS BULB IS EMPTY.
Sixty minutes of writing flew by. It’s the last bit of writing Maris will get in this Friday morning. Now, she’s running late.
“Shoot!” she says while locking the shack door. A folder filled with freshly printed manuscript pages is clutched beneath her arm. She’s got to hurry, so she rushes across the yard, up to the deck and through the slider to the kitchen. Jason and his camera crew will be hereanysecond—if not sooner.
The last thing she needs is for Jason to suspect her secret kitchen reno. So she stacks the tile and backsplash and countertop samples fanned out on the kitchen island. Granite and quartz and marble. Tans and blues and creams. After moving the tiles and stones to the pantry, she double-checks a packed carton on the kitchen table to be sure it’snotstacked with dishes.
It’s not.
Jason’s clothes are in it. Including a wrinkled polo shirt, which she refolds. Quickly retucking the box flap, she then puts her manuscript pages in a denim tote, changes into flat leather sandals and props her sunglasses on her head. She’d told Jason the clothes would be in his studio. And right on schedule, as soon as she goes out the slider to drop the box of clothes there, a fleet of cars pulls into the driveway. Jason’s SUV leads the way, followed by Trent in his car and the camera crew in a TV station van. When Jason gets out, Maris can see he’s dressed for filming. He’s got on a linen blazer over his cuffed jeans, button-down and boat shoes. He even wears a skinny tie today.
Oh, but some things never change. Not even after being away from home for a couple of weeks now. No, because there you go … His whiskered face hasn’t seen a razor recently. And in his hand, his cell phone is dinging and ringing—but not enough to stop him from looking only at her.
* * *
The car doors all slam simultaneously behind him. Everyone’s shakin’ a leg this morning, anxious to get thisCastaway Cottagesegment filmed before the Labor Day weekend gets underway. Jason silences his phone and drops it in his jacket pocket. That done, he waves to Maris before walking around the SUV and opening the liftgate. Maddy bounds out and runs across the yard in a blur. She scrambles up the deck stairs to where Maris stands with a carton in her arms.
“Oh! Maddy!” she says as the dog circles around her on the steps. “Careful, now.” Maris laughs, managing to shift the carton and give the happy German shepherd a pat or two.
Drawing a hand down his jaw, Jason watches from the yard. Maris is dressed casual, her white sleeveless top half-tucked into her frayed denim skirt. She maneuvers the deck stairs with the box in her arms, a tote on her shoulder and propped sunglasses holding back her brown hair. Jason gives a sharp whistle for the dog then, to get her out of Maris’ way.
Stepping off the stairs, okay, it’s obvious Maris has a plan. Because she doesn’t approach Jason. Not untilfirstnodding to his producer, Trent, and the crew further behind him. Then, she does it. Yep. She puts Jason on the spot in everyone’s presence. There’s no kiss, no hug for him. Just a wicked smile.
“This should do it,” she says, a little breathless as she drops the packed box in his arms. She glances at Trent standing nearby, then back to Jason. Anddoesn’tlower her voice. “That’s all the clothes you asked for. If you need anything else while you’re staying at Ted’s, just text me.”
Okay.Zing. He got the barb of her news flash announced to his crew. Got her message, too: You walk away, it’s not going to be a secret. So he tries to talk around the box he’s now holding. But his voice? He drops it low. “Maris. I thought we could maybe do this later?”
“Oh, no,” she says while putting on her sunglasses. “The house is all locked up and I’m headed out. To Back Bay. The beach there will be nice and quiet for me to get some sun and review a new chapter I wrote. Oh!” She pauses to pull several official-looking envelopes out of her tote. “Here are your bills, too. And your checkbook.”
“What?” Jason takes the handful of envelopes.
“Your bills. You know. Cell phone. Credit card. Your car insurance coming up for renewal.”
“Okay, okay. I get it.”
“And there’s one there from your prosthetist. Not sure what that one’s for.”
Jason glances at the bills askew in his hand as he also holds the carton of clothes. “But you usually take care of all this,” he says, trying to return the envelopes to her.
“No more.” Maris backs up a step. “You leave? You bring your bills with you.” She takes another step backward.
“But—” Jason stops. He hears it in her voice. She’s playing with him. Giving him a little jab in front of his people. A little one-two sting. He also glances back to see Trent and the guys uncomfortably moving away. Though not far enough to actually miss any of this personal drama, he notices.
“Those bills areyourresponsibility, Jason. Wouldn’t want the debt collector looking for you now,” Maris says, waggling a finger at him before walking down the sloping, twig-strewn driveway. “See you tonight at Elsa’s!” she calls over her shoulder.
“Wait!” Jason quickly looks for somewhere to drop this confounded box. There’s nowhere—not anywhere easy enough, anyway. So he sort of trots along the driveway to catch up. “Maris!” he says in a hushed yell as she’s walking away. But at least she stops. Stops, adjusts her tote strap and turns to him. “Speaking of Elsa, I thought I could just …”
“Just, what?”
He glances at the guys again, then shifts the box in his arms. And tries to get closer to Maris—which is a mistake. Because with a small, playful smile, for every step he takes, she backs away a step. Oh, yes. She’s having fun using her theatrics to entertain Trent and the others—who are silent now. So Jason just stands there and says what’s on his mind. “I thought I could maybe shower and get ready here. For the inn’s grand opening?”
“No.”
“But instead of driving,” he argues, lowering his voice again and hitching his head to the others. “You know. It would be easier than going back and forth to Sea Spray.”
