"Don't you start on me, Carol. I've got nothing to say." He shifted away
from her, ignoring the guilt because he knew the gesture would hurt her.
"I want a beer," he muttered and stalked away.
Phillip Quinn and some of the others were gathered around the keg. Pete
noted with an amused snort that Phillip was flirting with the Barrow
girl, Celia. He couldn't blame the boy--she was built like a Playboy
pinup and not afraid to show it off. It wasn't something a man stopped
noticing even if he was old enough to be her father.
"Want me to pull you one, Mr. Monroe?"
"'Predate it." Pete nodded toward the celebrants in the backyard. "Got
you a crowd here, today, Phil. Fine spread, too. I remember how your
folks'd throw a picnic most every summer. It's nice you're keeping up
the tradition."
"Anna thought of it," Phillip told him, handing Pete a foaming beer in a
tall plastic cup.
"Women do, more'n men, I suppose. If I don't get the chance, you tell
her I appreciate the invite. I gotta get back to the waterfront in an
hour or so, set up for the display."
"You always put on a good one. Best fireworks on the Shore."
"Tradition," Pete said again. It was a word that mattered.
carol monroe hadn't been the only one to notice the way Ethan and Grace
had walked off together. Speculation and sly grins started to spread
over the potato salad and steamed crabs.
Mother Crawford wagged her fork at her good friend Lucy Wilson. "You ask
me, Grace is going to have to put her foot down if she wants Ethan Quinn
to come up to snuff before that baby's old enough for college. Never
seen a man moved so slow."
"He's thoughtful," Lucy said loyally.
"Not saying different. Just saying slow. Seen them moony-eyed over each
other since before that boy got his own workboat. Has to be nearly ten
years passed. Stella and I--bless her soul--had a conversation over it a
time or two."
Lucy sighed over her fruit salad, and not just because she was watching
her calories. "Stella knew her boys inside and out."
"That she did. I said to her one day, 'Stella, your Ethan's got cow's
eyes for the young Monroe girl.' " And she laughed, said how he had
himself a hard case of puppy love, but that sometimes it was the best
way to start the real thing. Never could figure why Ethan didn't step
forward a bit before Grace got herself tangled up with that Jack Casey.
Never did like him much."
"He wasn't a bad sort, just weak. Look there, Mother," Lucy said,
lowering her voice like a conspirator. She nodded toward Ethan and
Grace, as they walked back around the side of the house, hands linked,
the baby sleeping on his shoulder.
"Nothing weak about that one." Mother wiggled her brows and leered at
her friend. "And slow can be a fine thing in bed, can't it, Lucy?"
Lucy hooted. "It can, Mother. That it can."
Blissfully unaware of the speculation buzzing about a quiet walk around
the house on a hot summer afternoon, Grace stopped to pour some iced
tea. Before she'd half filled the first glass, her mother was bustling