Angels All Over Town by Luanne Rice

Author:Luanne Rice
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780553902471
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2009-01-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

That afternoon I waved to Sam Chamberlain. He was sitting in a lawn chair, reading a book. Probably some scientific tome, I thought, but when I got closer I could see it was Agatha Christie’s They Came to Baghdad. Things are not always as they seem, I told myself sagely.

“How’re things?” Sam asked as I passed.

“Great,” I said, continuing to walk by. I wore all my beach regalia and carried a big bag filled with a blanket, a towel, books, and several different strengths of sunscreen. “Great weather we’re having.”

“Fantastic.”

“Well, bye,” I said, heading down the beach path into the gorse.

That day I swam the length of the beach, back and forth, until I was too exhausted to move. Then I went up to the turret room for a nap.

That became my routine for the next two days: waken at sunrise, drink coffee brought to me in bed by Margo, spend the morning with her, spend the afternoon alone swimming, reading, and sleeping, then have dinner with Margo and Matt in the inn’s dining room. Once Sam walked in just as we were finishing, but the other time he didn’t show up at all. Matt said he usually ate early, as soon as the dining room opened. With everything in New York geared to a late-night crowd, I wondered how Sam got along. But I didn’t consider asking him, even though I spotted him around the grounds quite often.

On Friday I walked to the beach after breakfast and found Sam reading a new mystery in a low chair. He wore a long-visored cap and zinc oxide smeared on his lips. A bunch of dark hair stuck out of the gap above the hat’s adjustable strap. It glinted in the sun.

“Hey, how are you?” he asked, looking surprised and pleased to see me. His strange greenish eyes lifted when he smiled.

“Fine. How’s the book?”

“It’s good, it’s good,” he said, kicking a few large round stones away from the sand beside him. “Here, have a seat.”

I spread my towel. From behind, his black hair looked almost golden in the sun. I had a crazy urge to run my fingers through it. I thought of a pirate, dipping greedy hands into a treasure chest and letting jewels run through her fingers. The thought made me self-conscious, and I sat right down on my towel instead of smoothing its corners and anchoring it with rocks, the way I usually did. I caught Sam examining my scraped leg. It was covered by a huge blotch of Mercurochrome, which I hadn’t reapplied for several days and which the salt water had faded to sickly pink. “It’s healing pretty well,” I said.

“It looks much better.”

Our small talk felt comfortable after my fantasy of treasure hair. I stretched out on my towel and asked him how he liked New York. Then he asked me if I was the oldest sister. Then I asked him where he had gone to college. Then he said “Dartmouth” and asked me why I had dropped out of Juilliard.

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