The Topsail Accord Read Online Free Page B

down the other side of the bridge. The unimposing country club appears on the right, and the brackish marshes stretch away south on the left. It is not far to his shop. It’s just a short drive from my house to the bridge, and another half mile from the bridge to his shop. Before I know it I am there. Yes, I am doing something. Without my husband, without my sister. Just me.

Joe
     
    I didn’t think it was possible, but she is even more beautiful in the demure print sundress she is wearing than in the bathing suit I have seen her in these last days. She moves like an athlete. She must be some sort of athlete to be so trim, especially since she must be, I don’t know, in her mid-thirties? I might be too old for her?
    Too old?
    For a cup of coffee and a talk about a sea turtle nest? How old is too old to have coffee and to talk about turtles? I’m hoping there is never a “too old” for this. Clearly she doesn’t think I’m too old, or else she wouldn’t have agreed to come, and she wouldn’t have actually come. Agreeing and doing are different things.

Shannon
     
    I can see him watching me. He’s cleaned up, and isn’t wearing his jogging clothes. What? Did I expect him to be a slob who would still be wearing his jogging clothes and who would be sweating over the counter and into my coffee cup? Maybe it would be easier if he was a slob and was ruining my coffee. It might be easier because it might be over right now. Over? How can a cup of coffee be “over”?
    I’m still not sure why I did this. Or that I am actually going to go through with it. I can turn around, get back in the car, and go back over the bridge right now. Or I can go in, get my coffee to go, and be out of here in under a few minutes.
    Both of those might be the better choice. I am going back to Ohio in a few days. I’ve had a great month here. It’s my house, I can come here anytime I want. I often come during the winter, but not to the big house. I come to my little house, my cottage. The big house is too big and too empty in January. The big house is for the summer, and for the crowd of the family and nieces and their cousins. Sometimes I stay there for a few days alone in the summer before they come. It is good for a few days. Yes it makes me homesick, but in a good way, and then they arrive and cure the homesickness.
    There is nothing like the Atlantic for me. Now that I’ve filled my beach house with my family for these last couple of years, being there alone can quickly become too much. I like to be alone, but not that alone. I’m not lonely. I like my life. I like my life alone in my new home in Ohio. I like my life alone in my lab, and at my digs. I like my life with my Mom and my sisters and all the nieces and nephews. I have it in order, and I like it.
    But I do come here in the winter, in January, and other times. Sometimes I fly to Wilmington and rent a car and drive up to my cottage for a few days. Other times I drive down and stay for two weeks.
    The family has never come to the cottage. My sister gets me, and she gets that the cottage needs to be my place. Just for me. She gets that if even one time it was filled with the family then those voices and feelings and memories and presences would be in that house and that would make it too lonely for the times when it wasn’t filled. Right now it is my private place here on the beach. She doesn’t even know which house it is, or at least she pretends. I love my sister and how she gets me. My ex never got me like that. How could he? Who could?
    So why am I here if no man ever gets me?
    I don’t really need another cup of coffee. And I don’t really need a complication for the next couple of days. And maybe it’d be weird next summer if I actually talk to this guy today. Maybe I’d have to avoid this coffee shop, and his sister’s day spa. This could get weird fast.
    But... He poured out my coffee. Who pours out someone’s coffee after they almost run them over?

Shannon and