“I’d like that,” she finally said, realizing how sincerely she meant it. He stood as she pulled out her stool, then helped her adjust its position. By the time he returned to his own seat, she felt like someone else entirely. The thought of what she was doing left her slightly off-kilter, and she reached for the menu, as if it would ground her. “May I?”
“By all means.”
She opened the menu, feeling his gaze on her. “What are you having?” she asked, thinking small talk would tame her butterflies.
“Either the tuna or the grouper. I was going to ask the waitress which one is better, but maybe you know?”
“The tuna is always delicious. It’s what my mom orders when she comes here. They have a deal with a few of the fishermen around here, so it’s fresh every day.”
“Tuna it is,” he concurred.
“That’s what I should do. The crab cakes are really delicious, too. But they’re fried.”
“So?”
“They’re not good for me. Or my thighs.”
“Seems to me that you don’t have anything to worry about. You look lovely.”
She said nothing to that. Instead, she felt the blood rise in her cheeks, aware that another line had just been crossed. As flattered as she was, it definitely felt like a date now. There was no way on earth she could have foreseen any of this, and she tried to concentrate on the menu, but the words seemed to jump around. She finally set it aside.
“I assume you decided on the crab cakes?” he asked.
“How did you know?”
“Habit and tradition often render change undesirable.”
His response brought to mind an upper-class Englishman ensconced in a wood-paneled library at his country estate—an image utterly incongruous with the man sitting across from her.
“You certainly have a unique turn of phrase,” she remarked with a smile.
“I do?”
“You can definitely tell you’re not American.”
He seemed amused by that. “How’s Scottie doing? Still moving around?”
“He’s back to his rambunctious self. But I think he was mad at me for not bringing him out to the beach again. Or at least disappointed.”
“He does seem to enjoy chasing the birds.”
“As long as he doesn’t catch them. If he did, he probably wouldn’t know what to do.”
The waitress approached, seeming less harried than she’d been earlier. “Have you two decided what you’d like to drink?” she asked.
Tru looked over at Hope, and she nodded. “I believe we’re ready to order,” he said. He gave the waitress their food orders and asked if the restaurant had any local beers on tap.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” the waitress answered. “Nothing fancy here, and nothing on tap. Just Budweiser, Miller, and Coors, but the bottles are ice cold.”
“I’ll try a Coors, then,” he said.
“And you?” she asked, turning to Hope.
It had been years since she’d had a beer, but for some reason, it sounded strangely appealing right now. And she definitely needed something to ease her anxiety. “I’ll have the same,” she said, and the waitress nodded, leaving them alone at the table. Hope reached for her napkin and set it in her lap.
“How long have you been playing the guitar?” she asked.
“I started when I was apprenticing to become a guide. One of the men I was working with used to play at night when we were at the camp. He offered to give me some lessons. The rest I just picked up over the years. Do you play?”
“No. I took a few piano lessons when I was a kid, but that’s it. My sister can play, though.”
“You have a sister?”
“Two,” she said. “Robin and Joanna.”
“Do you see them often?”
She nodded. “We try. The whole family lives in Raleigh, but it’s harder these days to get everyone together except on holidays or birthdays. Both Robin and Joanna are married and they work, and their kids keep them constantly on the go.”
“My son, Andrew, is the same way.”
The waitress dropped off the two bottles of beer from a tray filled with other drinks. Hope tilted her head in surprise.
“I didn’t know you had a son.”
“He’s ten. Because of my work schedule, he lives with his mother most of the time.”
“Your work schedule?”
“I work for six weeks straight, then go home for two weeks.”
“That has to be hard for both of you.”
“Sometimes it is,” he agreed. “At the same time, it’s all he’s ever known, so I tell myself that he’s used to it. And we have a lot of fun when we’re together. He wasn’t pleased when he learned that I would be coming here for a week.”
“Have you spoken with him since you’ve been here?”
“No, but I’m planning to call him tomorrow.”
“What’s he like?”
“Curious. Bright. Handsome. Kind. But I’m biased.” He grinned and took a sip of his beer.
“You should be. He’s your son. Does he want to become a guide one day, too?”
“He says he does, and he seems to enjoy spending time in the bush as much as I do. But then again, he also says he wants to drive race cars. And be a veterinarian. And maybe a mad scientist.”
She smiled. “What do you think?”
“He’ll make his own decision in the end, like we all do. Being a guide means leading an unconventional life, and it’s not for everyone. It’s also one of the reasons my marriage ended. I just wasn’t around enough. Kim deserved better.”
“It seems like you and your ex get along well.”
“We do. But she’s easy to get along with, and she’s a marvelous mother.”
Hope reached for her beer, impressed by the way he spoke about his ex, thinking it said as much about him as it did about her.
“When do you fly back?”
“Monday morning. And you leave?”
“Sometime on Sunday. I have to work on Monday. When is your meeting?”
“On Saturday afternoon.” He took a drink before slowly lowering the bottle to the table. “I’m supposed to meet my father.”
“Do you mean visit?”
“No,” he answered. “I mean meet for the first time. According to the letter I received, he moved from Zimbabwe before I was born, and he learned of my existence only a short time ago.”
Hope opened her lips, then closed them again. After a moment, she ventured, “I can’t imagine not knowing my father. Your mind must be going a hundred miles an hour.”
“I admit it’s an unusual circumstance.”
Hope shook her head, still trying to grasp what he’d told her. “I wouldn’t know how to start that conversation. Or even what to ask him.”
“I do.” For the first time, Tru glanced off to the side. When he spoke again, his voice was almost lost in the sound of the rolling waves. “I’d like to ask him about my mother.”
She hadn’t expected that and pondered what he could mean. She thought she saw a flash of sadness in his expression, but when he faced her again, it was gone.
“It seems we both have memorable weekends ahead,” he observed.
His desire to change the subject was obvious and she played along, despite her growing curiosity. “I just hope it doesn’t rain. Ellen would probably burst into tears.”
“You mentioned you’re a bridesmaid?”
“I am. And thankfully, the dress is actually pretty stylish.”
“Dress?”
“The bridesmaids wear matching dresses, picked out by the bride. And sometimes the bride doesn’t have the greatest sense of style.”
“You sound like you speak from experience.”
“This is the eighth time I’ve been a bridesmaid.” She sighed. “Six friends and both my sisters. I’ve liked maybe two of the dresses.”
“What happens if you don’t like the dress?”
“Nothing. Except you’ll probably hate the photos for the rest of your life. If I ever get married, I might pick ugly dresses just to get back at some of them.”