but she didn’t say anything to her friend. She knew that Deanna loved the house and that the security of her family meant a great deal. She had met Deanna at art school, shortly after the death of Deanna’s father had left her penniless and alone. She had seen her struggle to make it on the little money she earned at her job. She had been there too when Marc began to court Deanna, and she had seen Deanna come to rely on him more and more, until she felt helpless without him. She had watched Marc sweep her friend under his wing, tenderly, irresistibly, and with the determination of a man who refused to lose. And she had seen Deanna nestle there for almost two decades, safe, protected, hidden, and insistent that she was happy. Perhaps she was. But Kim was never sure.
“Any place special you want to go for dinner?” Kim drained the last of her Coke as she asked.
“The beach.” Deanna looked longingly through the window at the sea.
“The Beach? I don’t know it.” Kim looked vague, and Deanna laughed.
“No, no. It’s not a restaurant. I meant I wanted to go for a walk on the beach.”
“Now? At this hour?” It was only eight-thirty, and just barely dusk, but Kim was hungry to begin her evening and have a look around. “Why don’t you save that until tomorrow after my meeting with the new client?” It was obvious that Kim was not lured by surf and white sands. But Deanna was.
She shook her head resolutely and put down her Coke. “Nope. I can’t wait that long. Are you going to change before we go out?” Kim nodded. “Good. Then I’ll go for a walk while you dress. I’ll just wear what I have on.” The cashmere sweater and gray slacks still looked impeccable after the drive.
“Don’t get lost on the beach.”
“I won’t.” Deanna smiled sheepishly at Kim. “I feel like a kid. I can’t wait to get out and play.” And look at the sunset, and take a deep breath of the sea air… and remember the days when Marc and I walked down that beach hand in hand. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Don’t rush. I’m going to take a nice hot bath. We’re in no hurry. We can have dinner at nine-thirty or ten.” Kim would make reservations in the staid, Victorian dining room of the Pine Inn.
“See you.” Deanna disappeared with a wave and a smile, pulling on her jacket and carrying a scarf in her hand. She knew it would be windy on the beach. When she stepped outside the fog was already rolling in.
She walked along the main street of Carmel, weaving her way between the few straggling tourists who had not yet taken refuge at dinner tables or in their hotels, their children chattering at their heels, their arms filled with booty from the shops, their faces smiling and relaxed. It reminded her of the time she and Marc had come here with Pilar. Pilar had been an exuberant nine, and she had joined them on one of their sunset strolls on the beach, collecting bits of driftwood and shells, running ahead of them and then back to report her discoveries, as Deanna and Marc talked. It seemed an aeon ago. She reached the end of the street and suddenly stopped to look down the endless expanse of alabaster beach. Even Marc had admitted that there was nothing like it in France. The perfectly white sand and the rich swell of waves rolling in toward the shore with sea gulls drifting slowly by. She took a deep breath as she looked at the scene again, watching the tide roll inexorably in. There was a lure to that beach, a lure like none she had ever known. She pocketed the scarf and slipped her shoes off, feeling the rush of sand between her toes as she ran toward the shore, stopping short of the water’s edge. The wind ripped through her hair. She closed her eyes and smiled. It was a beautiful place, a world she had left buried in memory for too long. Why had she stayed away for so long? Why hadn’t they been back here before? With another deep breath, she set off down the beach, one shoe in each hand, and her feet aching