Along with scooters, skateboards, rollerblades, and bicycles, it stated that no dogs were allowed between April and September—not that everyone followed the rule. Sometimes they got away with it. Other times, they found themselves slapped with a nice little fine.
“Why is it okay the rest of the year but not then?” she asked.
Although a cool, late-October afternoon, numerous people enjoyed the walk and views. And during the warmer months, it wasn’t unusual to see four or five times as many people of all ages there.
Keith took her hand and waited for a couple with a stroller to exit the path before entering. “My guess is because those months are tourist season around here. People from all over pack this area in the spring and summer.”
“That makes sense. So how long is this path?”
He’d never looked it up, but he’d always been good at estimating distances. “I’d say it’s a little over a mile from here to the end. But if you get tired, there are benches all along the way where we can rest.”
He couldn’t resist adding the last part. Keith had seen Maddie run up to ten miles on the treadmill, so this walk would be a piece of cake for her.
“It might be tough, but I think I’ll make it. But hey, if you need a break, just say the word.”
Neither spoke again as they made their way along the walkway. Instead, Keith enjoyed the sound of the waves crashing below, the rustling leaves, and the feel of Maddie’s hand in his.
“It must cost a fortune to stay there in the summer,” Maddie said, pointing to a hotel on their left as they passed by it.
With only a fence and gate separating the property from the walkway, the Seabrook By The Sea Hotel was one of the nicest resorts in the area. Over the years, he’d passed the area more than once and seen couples getting married on the sprawling green lawn between the wrought-iron fence and the main building.
“Yep, and you have to book months in advance or forget about getting a room.”
Keith moved to the left so the jogger coming toward them could pass on his right. It wasn’t uncommon to see joggers here. However, he’d always thought they were missing out on all the beauty around them by running instead of taking a stroll.
“The wedding is there tomorrow. Colby mentioned a lot of the guests are staying there. That’s probably why I couldn’t book what I wanted.”
“It’s a beautiful spot for an outdoor wedding. Is the wedding outside?” Maddie asked, glancing over her shoulder at the resort.
Colby hadn’t given him any details other than where and when to be there. “No idea. I guess we’ll find out today.”
“What time is the rehearsal dinner tonight?”
“Five. But there is no dinner involved.”
After rounding a bend in the path, Maddie stopped short, forcing him to either stop or pull her along behind him. “You’re kidding. Isn’t it a tradition to practice for the wedding and then afterward for the wedding party to have dinner together?”
He’d been part of two other weddings, and both times the night before the big day, he attended events similar to what Maddie described. “Maybe, but Colby does things his way. We’re going to run through things, and then we’re on our own.”
The view from the bench next to them was too good to pass up. So, although he didn’t need a rest, Keith moved closer and sat down before someone else scooped it up.
“When it’s over, I thought we could get dinner at the Maine Lobster Pound.” He might have spent the first twelve years of his life living first on an army base in Texas and then in Washington, but he loved seafood as much as any native New Englander. And a person wouldn’t find anything better than Maine seafood.
“That depends. Does it serve anything other than lobster? Because if they don’t, you either need to think of another place, or we’ll order room service.”
“They do. Not a lobster fan?” Keith liked lobster, but he didn’t love it.
Maddie shrugged. “I’ve never tried it, and I don’t plan to.”
“Why’s that?”
While on a security detail with her in Oklahoma, he’d seen Maddie try fried rattlesnake. She’d been the only one on the three-person team to try it. So she wasn’t squeamish when it came to food.
“They drop the poor things in boiling water alive, Keith. I don’t care if they taste good or not. That’s just cruel.”
She wasn’t wrong. And on the rare occasion Keith did order lobster, he didn’t think about how the restaurant cooked them. “I’m thinking cod or salmon sounds good for dinner.”
A couple who had to be pushing their mid-seventies stopped close to them. “Excuse me,” the woman said, temporarily halting their conversation. “Would you mind taking a picture of us together?”