Page 39 of Surfside Sisters

Tommy grinned wryly. “I’ve heard that revenge sex can be mighty fine.”

She smiled. He reached out and took her hand. “I’ll take you home. I know you have to get up early for work tomorrow.”

“Tommy…could we be friends for a while?”

“Of course, Keely. But remember, a guy can hope.”

—

Her mother was in the living room, reading. When she saw Keely, she put down her book.

“Did you have a nice time with Tommy?”

Keely dropped into an armchair. “Too nice a time, actually.” Quickly she clarified, “No, I don’t mean what you’re thinking, I only mean I feel guilty, going out with him so soon after he and Isabelle broke it off.”

Her mother leaned her head back against the sofa, closed her eyes, and sighed. “I knew a Tommy in high school.”

“Um…okay.”

“His name was Fred, but he was every bit as sexy as Tommy.”

“Mom.”

“You’re twenty-two. You can tolerate the fact that I once had sexual feelings.”

“Not really.”

Eloise ignored her. “Honey, there’s a guy like Tommy in every school. It’s like a life-coaching test—can you resist the irresistible?”

Keely thought about that. “So you think I shouldn’t go out with Tommy?”

“No, I’m not saying anything. But you need to think of Isabelle.”

“I think of her. She’s the one who broke it off with Tommy, because he dropped out of college. She texted me about it. Besides, Isabelle and I aren’t as close anymore.”

“That’s natural, I suppose. You’re both growing up. Still, I hope you’ll take it slow with Tommy. For lots of reasons.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to get all crazy like a tween. For one thing, I’m too busy.” Keely yawned. “And too tired.”

—

Keely went to dinner or a movie with Tommy once or twice a week. October was the month a guy like him lived to the max every day. He worked for his father, and whenever he could, he got out on the water. He often presented Keely and her mother with a nice piece of striped bass ready for the grill. Eloise always invited Tommy to stay, to join them for dinner, and while Tommy was out on the deck grilling the fish, Keely set the kitchen table, listening to her mother humming as she stirred butter into the rice.

It was good seeing Tommy this way. They both relaxed. The atmosphere in the house changed, as if Tommy’s low male voice and muscular male presence soothed the very air, as it soothed and pleased Keely and her mother.

Keely emailed Isabelle to tell her she was hanging out with Tommy now and then—interesting, she thought, how choosing the right words could make whatever it was she was up to with Tommy sound so innocent.

—

“Hey, Isabelle!” Keely fell back on her pillows. “I haven’t heard from you in forever.”

“Sorry, and sorry to call so late. Did I wake you up?”

“Nope. Just trying to drag my weary body to bed. Will I see you next week?”

“No, but listen, Keely, I’ve met someone! Gordon Whitehead—could there be a more terrible name? But he’s handsome and smart and kind and maybe a little bit wealthy. His family has a house in the Adirondacks. And I’m going there for Thanksgiving. But they live in Greenwich. Gordy’s a history guy, all about the Middle Ages, I love him but he could put me to sleep talking about mace and mead. Good name for a pub, isn’t it? The Mace and Mead.”

Keely laughed at her friend’s exuberance. Gordon Whitehead of the Mace and Mead pub sounded perfect for Isabelle.

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