Vanessa held up several pairs of earrings, and Carly reached for the dangly ones with the blue stones.

“I’d go with them, too.” Vanessa nodded and returned the other two pairs to the case. Her phone rang, but before she answered it, she told Carly, “Shoes are toward the back, and bags are on the right side of the shop. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Carly went straight to the shoes, and gravitated toward the highest pair of heels in the shop.

“When I said ‘killer,’ those were the ones I had in mind.” Vanessa leaned against a display. “What size?”

“Seven, please.” Carly couldn’t wait to put them on her feet. Metallic leather sandals that fastened at the ankle on the thinnest straps imaginable, the shoes were, in fact, killers.

Vanessa found the right size and handed Carly the box and stood by while she sat on a nearby stool and tried them on.

“I love them.” Carly stood and walked a few steps to make sure she could, in fact, walk in them. “They’re gorgeous.”

“Here’s a bag that works with them.” Vanessa handed her a clutch of soft, silvery leather.

“I’ll take it.” Carly took off the shoes and returned them to their box. “And the shoes and the earrings and the dress.”

She smiled all the way to the cash register. “Vanessa, your shop is amazing. There are places in New York that don’t have what you have here.”

“Thank you. Just for that, I’m giving you ten percent off.” Vanessa laughed. “Another ten if you tell me who the lucky guy is. If, of course, that isn’t too personal a question.”

“For twenty percent … sure.” Carly leaned on the counter and watched Vanessa tally up the damage. “It’s Ford Sinclair.”

Vanessa’s hand stopped moving and she glanced up at Carly.

“Grace’s son? Tall, rugged-looking guy? Dark eyes?” she asked.

Carly nodded.

“I don’t blame you for going all out.” Vanessa grinned. “I was wondering how long it would be before someone snagged his attention. I’m attracted to men like that myself.” She hastened to add, “Not that I’m attracted to Ford, per se, but my husband, Grady, is cut from that cloth, too. Too rugged to be classically handsome, maybe, but irresistible. And hot.” She wrapped the earrings in tissue. “Pretty boys have never really done it for me.”

Carly thought back to her last boyfriend. Todd could be categorized as a pretty boy, she supposed, though she wasn’t sure if he was as pretty as he thought he was. Everything about Todd had seemed … precise. From head to toe, he had always been perfectly unwrinkled, perfectly coiffed, and very GQ. What, she asked herself now, had she seen in him?

“You’re going to kill him in this dress, you know,” Vanessa said as she swiped Carly’s credit card. “I wish I could be around to see it. I love it when a big guy crashes to his knees …”

“So I made reservations at Lola’s.” Ford stood in Carly’s foyer, his eyes on her face as if he was afraid to look past her chin.

“Oh, great. I’ve been wanting to try it. I’ve heard it’s wonderful.” Carly leaned across the dining room table, searching for her phone amid the piles of paper. She could feel Ford’s stare, and it was all she could do not to smile. Vanessa had been spot-on. The man had looked gobsmacked when she opened the front door.

“Here it is.” She held up her phone, then tucked it into her bag. “All ready?”

She took two steps toward the door, then stopped in midstride and snapped her fingers. “I almost forgot … just one second.”

She pivoted on her ridiculously high heels and headed to the kitchen to lock the back door.

“You look really beautiful,” he said when she returned to the foyer. “I like your dress.”

“Thanks. I got it at Bling yesterday when I realized I didn’t have any clothes with me that might be appropriate for dining out.” She laughed, then added, “Who am I kidding? I felt like shopping. It was my reward for working so hard all these weeks without taking a break.”

“Well, whatever inspired the purchase, I definitely approve.”

He held the door for her, and she heard his breath catch as she brushed past him. He closed the door behind them and waited while she locked it. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to link her arm through his as they walked to the car, to walk arm in arm with him on a beautiful summer Saturday night.

“So how was your lunch with Tony?” she asked.

“It was good. Great, actually. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.”

“I gathered that from the conversation. Where do you know each other from?”

“Oh, we worked together, on and off.” He opened the car door for her and she slid into her seat.

By the time he’d gotten behind the wheel, she had her seat belt on. He fastened his as well and started the car.

“I haven’t been to Lola’s in so many years, I don’t even remember what it’s like,” he said as he started the engine.

“I’ve never been, but I know that Cam and Ellie like it. They’ve mentioned it several times.”

The restaurant was only a few blocks away, but every available parking spot on Charles Street was taken, and they were forced to park in the big municipal lot on Kelly’s Point Road.

“Lots of tourists in town this weekend because of the sailboat races,” Ford explained after he pulled into one of the lone remaining spots.

“Are you racing?” Carly asked as she got out of the car and waited for him.

“No. Dan always loved to sail, but I’ve always preferred kayaking.”

“Oh, I love to kayak. I used to go with my dad when I was younger.”

“I’ll take you out one of these days, and we’ll paddle around some of the little inlets around the Bay.” The lower part of the lot had yet to be paved, and she had to pick her way carefully in those tall strappy shoes until they reached the macadam. He held her arm to help her across the stones, but once they reached the road, he took her hand and held it until they arrived at the restaurant.

The sidewalks in the center of town were alive with people in all manner of dress. A few, like Carly and Ford, were well dressed and obviously headed for one of the fine dining establishments, but most were in shorts and tank tops. There was a line out the door across the street at Sips—which sold mostly cold drinks—and Cuppachino, the coffee shop, was filled to capacity. Ford had to lead Carly through the throng gathered on the sidewalk to get to Lola’s door.

“I can’t believe this is St. Dennis,” he told her while they waited for their table. “I never would have imagined this town could attract crowds like this.”

“The inn is filled all summer long, though, right?”

“I’m still getting used to that, too.”

The hostess led them to a table, and soon after they were seated, a server arrived to pour water and offer menus, and describe the specials.

“They serve crab all over the world,” Ford noted after they’d both ordered, “but none as good as what we have right here on the Eastern Shore.”

“I have to agree.” Carly nodded. “I can’t wait to try the crab-mac-and-five-cheese side dish we ordered. I’ve had lobster mac and cheese, but not crab.”

“The chef at the inn makes it. I had it at dinner a few nights ago.”

“Do you eat all your meals in the dining room?”

He nodded. “I can’t remember a time when my mother cooked anything. We’ve always lived there, and there’s always been someone downstairs in the kitchen to cook, so my mother always deferred to the chefs, as she liked to say.” He smiled. “I think she was just happy to have someone else take over those chores. She always had so many other things to do, God knows when we kids would have eaten if dinner had been left to her. We always ate together in the dining room at the same time every night, but it was only because she didn’t have to cook.”

“I guess she helped your father run the inn?”

“Not really. I mean, she did help out from time to time when someone called in sick, and she often took over the reception desk and handled reservations at night. But most of her time was spent at the paper. That’s always been her thing.” He fell silent as their salads were served. “My mother loves it. She’s never wanted to do anything else. But she’s a controlling son of a gun, never delegated much to anyone else, which is why she’s in such a pickle now.”

“So you’ve taken over for her?”

“Temporarily. I’d agreed to write the feature articles, but it seems the community calendar has to be updated, so I worked with her on that today. And then there are the ads from the merchants that have to be placed, and the spotlight on local businesses that she likes to run every week. Oh, and there’s her new pet project, interviewing random people on the street, asking them about their visit to St. Dennis.” He laughed and lowered his voice, mimicking a TV reporter. “Is this your first visit to St. Dennis? No? So what keeps you coming back? What’s your favorite place for dining out? Antiques shopping?” He laughed again. “She’s decided she wants to run three of these mini-interviews every week from now until Labor Day.”

“And she wants you to be the roving reporter.”

“Of course. But it’s not bad, really. I did my three this afternoon down at the marina.” He paused. “It was actually quite interesting, you know? Seeing my hometown through the eyes of other people?”

“It sounds to me like Grace knew what she was doing when she tapped you to take over for her.”

“It’s her way of trying to keep me in St. Dennis. I think she thought if she made me take over for her, I’d find that I liked it enough to stay and run things for her.”

“Is it working?”

“I don’t hate it,” Ford admitted, “but I never thought about the Gazette as my life’s work.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “It just wasn’t something I was interested in. I was always more the outdoor type. Spent most of my spare time on the water. Still do.”

The waiter brought their entrées—a duet of pan-seared scallops in an orange glaze and grilled tuna—and served the wine Carly selected and the beer Ford ordered to go with their meals.

“My brother-in-law brewed the beer,” he explained. “Drinking wine makes me feel like a traitor.”

“I won’t tell Clay,” Carly promised. She tasted the scallops and sighed. “Perfect. It’s no wonder Lola’s is reputed to be the best in the area.”

“Lola herself—the first Lola—was quite a girl, if I remember correctly. She’s gotta be well into her nineties now, and if all the stories about her that I heard when I was growing up are true, she must have had some life.”

“She’s still alive?”

Ford nodded. “She stopped at the inn yesterday to see how Mom’s doing.”

“Seems like a shame for you to be wasting your interview time on me,” Carly said. “I would think Lola would make a much more interesting subject. It sounds like she’d have plenty to talk about.”

The hand holding his fork paused midway between his plate and his mouth. “I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right. She’s very outspoken—some might say blunt—and very opinionated. I don’t know that I could do her justice, though.”

“I don’t know why you’d say that. The two pieces you’ve done so far have been really good.” She cut a scallop in half and added, “I think you sell yourself short. You’re a good writer.” Carly was beginning to suspect that Ford liked being a journalist more than he wanted to admit.

“Speaking of writing, how are your projects coming along?”

“Great. I’m actually further ahead than I’d realized. Once I started putting my notes together, I realized I have the bones of the catalog already written. All that’s left to do is match up the paintings with Carolina’s comments. I should be finished by Monday.”

“And once you finish it, then what?”

“Then I send it off to the graphic designer I found to format it and turn it into a printed catalog.”

“So do you make a cover …?”

“I photographed one of Carolina’s paintings for the cover. It’s so perfect. I’m using the same one for the cover of the catalog, the book, and for the invitations to the opening that I’m sending out.”

She put down her fork and opened her bag, took out her phone, and scrolled until she found what she was looking for. She passed the phone to Ford, saying, “This is the painting. Carolina called it Stolen Moments. It might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

He took the phone and turned it to the light.

“It looks like two people on a picnic, but I can’t see it well enough to get a feel for it.” He handed back the phone.