Page 14 of Rainshadow

“About fifteen years,” he said with a sigh. “Many of them wonderful. I know Sylvia is difficult to get along with, but she’s also smart, can be funny and charming, achingly sophisticated, considering where she came from, and… passionate.”

“I want her to like me,” Flora said.

Ethan chuckled, as if that was a hopeless wish to express. “Have you eaten?”

“Eaten?” Flora hadn’t expected the change of topic.

“Yes, eaten. You worked all day.”

“No,” Flora said. “I had a peanut butter sandwich at noon.”

“Peanut butter sandwich,” said Ethan contemplatively. “I’ve never had one.”

“What?” Flora giggled. “That’s ridiculous. Who hasn’t eaten a peanut butter sandwich!?”

Ethan shrugged. “It doesn’t sound like enough food for a girl who’s worked all day the way you have. I’m going to take you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” Flora scoffed. “There are only two restaurants on the entire island!”

“Then it should be easy to choose,” he said and, turning to her, smiled conspiratorially. “But you can’t tell Sylvia.”

Flora felt instantly hot, a blush spreading to her neck, her cheeks. “Oh, I?—”

“Not for any nefarious reason,” he interrupted her, reassuring. “Just… she’s so jealous, and gets so angry. It’s hard to live with someone like that, but sometimes it’s easier to just… not tell her everything.”

“Yeah,” Flora said. She could imagine how hard it would be to live with Sylvia and felt, once again, a surge of sympathy for Ethan. She felt a surge of giddiness, too. “Dinner. Sounds… great.”

8

Dining out on Anderson Island meant one of two things.

A person could either go to the pub, a rustic, musty tavern that smelled like fried fish and stale beer, or they could go to the more upscale restaurant at the small beach resort called Deer Harbor. Flora assumed they were going to the pub, everyone always went to the pub, so when Ethan turned toward the resort, taking a left instead of right on the main road into town, she got a shimmery feeling, excitement mixed with a delicious expectation she only ever got when reading her fantasy books. It felt, to her, like he might be excited too, and that only made her more eager. She had been to the resort only once, with her friends, for graduation, and had wanted to order the scallops, but had been afraid that everyone would notice and think she was rude for getting something expensive.

Deer Harbor, boutique and high-end, was a Cape Cod-style building huddled neatly on the edge of a rocky, windswept beach. There were a few white outbuildings nestled among the dunes, that served as cabins. The buildings looked merry and welcoming in the otherwise gloomy night, with twinkling strings of light sweeping over the grand circular driveway.

There might have been a valet once, or plans for one, but now a person would drive through the driveway and park their own car, just as Ethan did, easing the key out of the ignition and quieting his rumbling sports car like he was hushing an animal.

The world seemed still. The tourist season was over, so there were no other people on the terrace or decks of the resort. The only sound was the breaking waves and whipping wind on the shore. Flora had to pull her old sweater tight around her, as though that made her any warmer, as they strolled from the parking lot to the entrance of the restaurant. Ethan seemed unbothered by the chill and the wind, only taking a deep, satisfied breath right before he swung the heavy wooden door open for Flora.

“Can I help you?” A host stood blinking in the candlelit dark, gazing at them from behind a wood hosting stand.

“Dinner for two?” Ethan said, a question, because the purpose of their visit must seem quite obvious.

The host looked at his watch. “We’ve already finished with dinner service,” he said, brows furrowing.

“That can’t possibly be true,” Ethan said. “It’s seven fifteen, you close at eight. It says so on your door.”

“Yes, uh, eh,” the host stammered and looked around. “We served all of our guests and didn’t think… Hold on, let me go ask the chef.”

“Yes.” Ethan’s voice was firm and confident. The look he gave the host was steady, intense. “Please do that.”

The host looked up at him, and his watery eyes softened, unfocused, and his face slackened. It seemed like he was looking at Ethan, really looking at him, for the first time, and having the same experience she’d had. He was a gorgeous man, and had an inviting, luminous quality that Flora had been so drawn to. It seemed, suddenly, that the host was drawn to it, too.

“I’m sure we can make something work,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse, like it was caught in his throat.

Four minutes later, Flora was sitting across from Ethan, whose face was bathed in glowing candlelight, next to a vast window that looked out into only darkness. Normally, Flora knew, they would have a spectacular view of the beach, with its towering rocks and dramatic breaking swells, but not even the moon was out, so the window framed an endless, yawning blackness.

The dining room was low-lit and there was no music playing, though a piano sat lifeless in a corner. The effect of the looming black window, the single candle between them, and the silence made it seem, to Flora, like they were the only two people in the world. Even the server, a middle-aged man with colorless hair and a mumbling voice, seemed unreal and ephemeral.

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