Page 19 of The Cottage on Plum Island
“No, it was me,” Jennifer said, stifling a giggle at their clumsy dancing attempt. “It’s these stupid shoes.”
“Do you want to take them off?” Harley asked her again as they found their rhythm after the third or fourth stumble. “I don’t mind if you want to stand on my feet.” He teased. “Daniella’s daughter, Emily, used to do it when she was young.”
“Don’t tease me about that,” Jennifer replied jovially. “I may just take you up on that offer. My feet sting like crazy. I can’t wear these shoes like I did when I was younger.”
“Why did you wear them then?” Harley felt himself relax as they swayed around the floor. “I can assure you, your legs would’ve looked just as gorgeous in lower heels.” He glanced at her H-line, gently forming a little black dress that ended just above her knee. “While I’m not a fashion expert, my ex-wife always said that her little black dress could make any size heel work.”
Jennifer leaned back slightly to look at him in disbelief. “Did you just compliment me and give me fashion advice all in one go?”
Harley thought about it before pursing his lips and nodding. “I believe I did.”
“Well, thank you for complimenting my legs and for the tip about my dress,” Jennifer said. “I wore these heels because Harriet bought them for me when we first arrived in Los Angeles a month ago, and their price tag was as high as the heels.”
“Ah!” Harley nodded in understanding. “You’re obligated to wear something because of what it costs and who gave it to you, dilemma.”
“Yes, exactly,” Jennifer concurred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Like that ugly sweater, a family member buys or makes for you.”
“Oh, I hate that peer pressure,” Harley agreed, slightly shuddering and enjoying their light banter. “Especially if it’s given to you by someone younger.”
“Or an older person on their deathbed!” Jennifer prompted.
“I’ve found that the shrinking in the washing machine routine always works,” Harley advised. “Especially if I wash it.” His eyes widened, and he gave his head a slight shake. “Laundry is not one of my handyman strengths.”
“Do you think if I give you these shoes, you can do something about them?” Jennifer joked.
“You could always break the heel and thenforgetto have it fixed,“ Harley suggested. “Or give them to me to wash for you. I could perhaps turn them into Barbie shoes.”
They both laughed at the thought of Harley shrinking Jennifer’s shoes down to a tiny size. They were transitioning into their second dance when his pocket started to buzz.
“Either your pacemaker is going crazy or your phone is ringing,” Jennifer told him, staring at the vibration from his shirt pocket.
“Phone!” Harley assured her, reluctantly letting her go as they walked to the edge of the dance floor.
“I hope it’s not Sam.” Jennifer’s eyes widened with concern as she looked at her wristwatch. “It’s almost eleven-thirty.”
That thought had flashed through Harley’s mind as he pulled the phone out of his pocket, frowning when it clicked off and he saw the name on the screen.
Harley’s frown deepened as he looked at Jennifer. “It was Betty!”
Jennifer’s eyes widened with a flash of panic. “Why is she calling you?”
They turned and rushed to the table, where Jennifer pulled out her phone and Harley dialed Betty’s number. It rang with no answer and eventually went over to voicemail.
“She’s not picking up.” Harley’s voice echoed his worry.
“That’s so strange,” Jennifer said, scrolling through her phone. “There are no missed calls or messages from my aunt on my phone for this evening.”
“We’d better get over there just in case,” Harley advised, grabbing his jacket and scanning the dance floor as he asked. “Do you have your car here?”
“No, I came with Caroline and Brad,” Jennifer answered, putting on her coat and grabbing her purse.
“I have my pickup,” Harley offered. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll message Caroline that I’ve gone home on the way,” Jennifer said as they slipped unnoticed off the boat and headed toward Harley’s pickup.
The ten-minute drive to Beach Plum Cottage felt like an hour’s drive as the tension hung heavy in the vehicle.
“She’s still not picking up,” Jennifer told Harley while trying to ring Betty for about the tenth time since they’d left the hotel.
