Page 34 of Summer People
“Look, it’s Betty!” A tourist a bit younger than Sutton comes running my way with her parents behind her.
“Oh, I don’t know if it’s a good idea to touch her,” the mother warns.
It’s not. But before I can say that, the dark-haired girl gives the goat a hug.
“Baa,” Betty protests, dancing away from the child and kicking up a cloud of dust as she goes. It’s been dry this spring, leaving my boots constantly covered in a layer of fine dirt. If we don’t get rain soon, I’ll have to start worrying about fires.
“I need to get her back,” I say as I pull the goat past the girl and her parents. “Enjoy your stay.”
I’m coming up on the gray shingled house we use as the medical center when Lindsey appears.
“Betty.” The three-year-old waves wildly from the porch.
Eddy peaks out the door and smirks. “Driving Todd to drink again?”
“We know the brewery needs the business. And that old man needs the stick out of his butt.” Doris frowns from the porch of the general store, arms crossed over her long, flowing red dress. Although she’s probably had it since the seventies, it’s finally back in fashion. “Come on, Betty.”
At the sound of her owner’s voice, the goat takes off, freeing herself from my hold, and follows Doris behind the building.
“She’s in a mood. She’s complained all morning about hating sherbet. Apparently it melts on everything and makes a mess.” Rolling her eyes, Eddy tucks her long French braid over her shoulder. “Like ice cream doesn’t.”
This is one of those situations where I should probably ask her to explain what the hell she’s talking about. Luckily I’m saved from responding when Bing shows up beside me.
“Puppy,” Lindsey says. “I can ride him?”
“Sorry, sweetie. You’re too big for that.” Eddy bends down to pick Lindsey up, but before she can, the three-year-old shrugs her off and darts away.
“Rocks,” she shouts, taking off toward the water, little pigtails bouncing, with Bing hot on her heels.
“Lindsey.” Eddy sighs. “This girl is going to be the death of me.” She flings a white box at me, then takes off. “Take that first-aid kit to Maggie for me,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Sheriff? More like errand boy,” I grumble.
“At least no one asks you for diet ginger ale.” Doris stomps up the porch steps, huffing.
With a sigh, I say, “Keep Betty away from Todd’s shit.”
She grumbles and waves a dismissive hand.
Whatever. Happy not to be pulled into any more drama there, I head up the dirt road to the schoolhouse on top of the hill.
I pass a crowd of people hanging out at the Monhegan Fish House. All the tourists love Sherman’s crab rolls, so I duck my head and pick up the pace, doing my best to not make eye contact. The last thing I need is more chitchat. I scoot past the red wooden announcement board and stride up the hill without incident. Just as I round the corner, a flash of pink catches my eye, and when I catch sight of the accompanying blond hair, I almost smile.
But what the hell is she doing half crouched on a boulder along the path? The woman makes my head spin. But my stupid heart picks up just a hair at the prospect of talking to her.
“Princess,” I call.
She lifts her head, her eyes going wide, and sniffles. And is that—is she crying?
My heart lurches oddly at the thought, so I pick up my pace, jogging the last few feet to the rock.
“Go away.” She lowers her head, averting her gaze, but she can’t hide the red-rimmed eyes or the damp cheeks.
Dammit. I was right about the tears. Like hell I’ll leave her.
“What’s wrong?” I fist my free hand at my side, clenching so tightly it throbs. With a forced inhale, I stretch it out and rack my brain for a way to make her feel better. Being nice, being humorous, even being friendly, doesn’t come all that naturally, so the effort is in vain.
“No need to growl.” Her still misty eyes snap up, but now they’re blazing.
