Page 71 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
‘And it does not require a response tonight.’
Their eyes meet and he lifts his glass.
‘A toast – to pleasant evenings.’
She responds to his toast and they each sip their wine.
‘Now,’ he says, ‘Laurie used to tell me which books you were reading.’
‘Did he?’
‘I love reading too, so he’d let me know if you enjoyed a particular book, then I’d go and buy it. So you see – you have been recommending books to me. We have been connected before this. You just didn’t know it.’ His smile is broad, and genuine.
For a second – maybe two – she feels as if he is deeply familiar. But he isn’t, and she can’t let herself indulge in such a flight of fancy. However, she notes that he’s not only kind but adept at steering conversations. Quite the skill. Not one she believes she has needed, because her clients tend to talk at her rather than with her, but she appreciates it in others.
‘Now I can ask you in person,’ he says. ‘Do you have anything to recommend?’
‘That depends.’
‘On?’ There’s mischief in his eyes and she quite likes it.
‘On what you thought of the books Laurie told you about.’
He laughs. ‘Some I liked. Some I didn’t. But that’s how it should be. And I can tell you for sure that I have missed having the recommendations these two years.’
At the mention of time passing, Trudy’s face grows tight. Two years. Yes. No time at all. And such an aeon. It will always be both, because time is not as she used to understand it. Which means she can let the two years stop her – because it’s not enough time to mourn her husband – or spur her on. To stagnate no longer. To actually connect with someone else. To get out of her head. To live. To feel.
‘The Prince of Tides,’ she says, naming a new book she bought because the bookseller told her it was good.
‘A grand title.’
‘It’s good. Thought provoking. A novel.’
Sol nods slowly. ‘Go on.’
‘Perfume.’
His eyebrows shoot up.
‘It’s not what you’d think,’ Trudy adds quickly. ‘It’s a novel too. About a killer who likes … scents, shall we say. Very unusual. But good. Absorbing.’
‘I shall look them up,’ he says.
‘I’ll lend them to you,’ she blurts, surprising herself.
At that, he picks up his glass. ‘Let’s drink to that.’
They have a perfectly nice dinner, and chat about books and hairdressing and places he’s been and she hasn’t. When Sol drops her home she pops inside to retrieve the books, for which he is grateful. He does not mention driving to Sydney, and nor does she, but he shows her to her door, and kisses her hand, then waits for her to go safely back inside.
An hour later, as she drifts off to sleep, she doesn’t think of him, but she doesn’t think of Laurie either, and for once her mind is quite empty and she does not resist the pull of dreams.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Josie barely notices the drive home because she’s half-daydreaming about Brett. Which she really shouldn’t do when she’s driving, but it’s hard not to. He’s been meeting her after work every day, even though she now knows he finishes work two hours earlier than she does.
‘Don’t you want to go home?’ she asked him yesterday.
‘Nah,’ he said. ‘Then I wouldn’t see you.’ He’d hugged her to his side as they walked toward her car, because that’s what they usually do: walk to her car, then she goes home. Which means he spends all that time just waiting to see her for a few minutes.
