42097609460

checking out if she had a favorite author, he’d seen a flash of the
old nervousness. He was struck by the notion that he shouldn’t
have let slip that he’d been watching her. “Never mind,” he added
quickly. “It’s not important.” On her way out the door, however,
she’d paused for a moment, her bag tucked in the crook of her
arm. She half-turned in his direction and mumbled, I like Dickens.
With that, she opened the door and was gone, walking up the
road.
He’d thought about her with greater frequency since then, but
they were vague thoughts, edged with mystery and colored by the
knowledge that he wanted to get to know her better. Not that he
knew how to go about it. Aside from the year he courted Carly,
he’d never been good at dating. In college, between swimming
and his classes, he had little time to go out. In the military, he’d
thrown himself into his career, working long hours and
transferring from post to post with every promotion. While he’d
gone out with a few women, they were fleeting romances that for
the most part began and ended in the bedroom. Sometimes, when
thinking back on his life, he barely recognized the man he used to
be, and Carly, he knew, was responsible for those changes. Yes, it
was sometimes hard, and yes, he was lonely. He missed his wife,
and though he never told anyone, there were still moments when
he could swear he felt her presence nearby, watching over him,
trying to make sure he was going to be all right.
Because of the glorious weather, the store was busier than usual
for a Sunday. By the time Alex unlocked the door at seven, there
were already three boats tied at the dock waiting for the pump to
be turned on. As was typical, while paying for the gas, the boat
owners loaded up on snacks and drinks and bags of ice to stow in
their boats. Roger—who was working the grill, as always—hadn’t
had a break since he’d put on his apron, and the tables were
crowded with people eating sausage biscuits and cheeseburgers
and asking for tips about the stock market.