“He misses you,” she said.
“I know. I miss him, too.”
“Have you seen your father yet?”
“No,” he answered. He told her about the meeting planned for Saturday afternoon. When he finished, Kim cleared her throat. “What was that I heard about a dog? It was hit by a car?”
“It wasn’t that serious,” Tru said before repeating the story. He made the mistake of mentioning Hope by name, and Kim immediately latched onto that.
“Hope?”
“Yes.”
“A woman?”
“Obviously.”
“I’m assuming that you two hit it off.”
“Why would you assume that?”
“Because you know her name, which means that the two of you spent some time in conversation. Which is something you never do anymore. Tell me about her.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Did the two of you go out?”
“Why is that important?”
Instead of answering, Kim laughed. “I can’t believe it! You’ve finally met a woman, and in America of all places! Has she ever been to Zimbabwe?”
“No…”
“I want to hear all about her. In exchange, I won’t ask you to reimburse me for the call…”
Kim stayed on the line for ten minutes, and though Tru did his best to downplay his feelings about Hope, he could almost hear Kim smiling on the other end. By the time he hung up, he was disconcerted by the call, and he took his time on the walk back up the beach. Beneath a belt of clouds that were turning the color of lead, he wondered how Kim could have deduced as much as she had so quickly. Even if he accepted the idea that she knew him better than almost anyone, it struck him as uncanny.
Women were indeed the mysterious sex.
A short while later, as he mounted the steps to the back deck, he was startled by the sight of a piece of white paper tacked near the latch. Realizing that Hope must have left it for him—and that was the reason she’d come by—he removed the tack and read the note.
Hi there! I’m heading out to Kindred Spirit today. If you’d like to join me, meet me on the beach at three.
He raised an eyebrow. Definitely the mysterious sex.
Inside the house, he found a pen and wrote a response. Remembering that she’d said she had some appointments, he left through the front door, walked to her place, and tucked the note into the door jamb next to the knob of her front door. Her car, he noticed, wasn’t in the drive.
Back at the house, he did a workout and then had a bite to eat. As he sat at the table, he gazed out the window at a sky that was slowly growing more ominous, hoping that the rain would hold off, at least until the evening.
* * *
Ellen had recommended not only the salon in Wilmington, but the stylist, Claire, as well. As Hope took a seat, she eyed the reflection of a woman with multiple piercings in her ears, a black studded dog collar, and black hair with purple streaks. She wore tight black pants and a black sleeveless top, completing the ensemble. Silently, Hope wondered what Ellen had been thinking.
It turned out that Claire had worked in Raleigh before moving to Wilmington earlier this year, and Ellen had been a loyal customer. Hope still wasn’t sure, but saying a little prayer to herself, she settled back in the chair. After asking her questions about the length and style she was interested in, Claire kept up a steady stream of chatter. When Hope gasped at the sight of nearly three inches of hair being lopped off, Claire promised that Hope would be thrilled before going on with whatever she’d been talking about in the first place.
Hope was nervous throughout the transformation, but after the highlights, blow dry, and style, she had to admit that Claire had talent. Hope’s naturally auburn hair now carried some lighter tints, as though she’d spent most of the summer in the sun, and the cut itself seemed to frame her face in a way that Hope had never envisioned possible. She left Claire an extra-generous tip on the way out and crossed the street to the nail salon, opening the door just as her appointment was set to begin. The nail technician, a middle-aged Vietnamese woman, spoke little English, so Claire pointed out a burgundy-rose color that would match the bridesmaid dress and read a magazine while her toes were being done.
Afterward, Hope swung by Wal-Mart to pick up a new coffee maker. She chose the least expensive model. It seemed pointless, since they were selling the cottage, but a cup of coffee was part of Hope’s morning routine, and she figured she’d just wrap it up on Saturday to give to Ellen as a wedding gift, with a note saying it was slightly used. Just kidding. But the thought made her giggle. She then spent some time scouting the nearby shops and was thrilled to find a pair of comfortable strappy heels that matched her bridesmaid dress. Though they were a bit expensive, she felt lucky to find a suitable pair, given her last-minute efforts. She also splurged on some beaded white sandals to replace the scuffed-up ones she was wearing. Popping into the clothing boutique next door, she browsed the racks. A little retail therapy never hurt anyone, after all, and she ended up purchasing a flower-patterned sundress that happened to be on sale. There was a small scoop in the front, a cinch at the waist, and the hemline reached just above her knees. It wasn’t the kind of dress she usually bought—to be honest, she seldom if ever bought dresses—but it was fun and feminine, and she couldn’t say no, even if she had no idea where or when she’d ever wear it.
The return trip was easier, with less traffic and a series of lucky breaks when it came to hitting green lights. On the highway, she passed through low-country farmland before eventually reaching the turnoff to Sunset Beach. A few minutes later she pulled into the drive. Gathering her purchases, she climbed the steps to the front door and saw a scrap of paper near the doorknob. Pulling it free, she recognized it as the note she’d written to Tru earlier. Her first thought was that he’d simply returned it to her without comment, which confused her, and it wasn’t until she flipped it over that she realized he’d written something in response.
I’ll be on the beach at three. I look forward to warm conversation and learning the mystery surrounding Kindred Spirit; I’m anticipating surprise with you as my guide.
She blinked, thinking that the man knew how to write a note. The wording struck her as vaguely romantic, which only deepened the flush she experienced at the thought that he’d actually agreed to join her.
When she opened the door, Scottie circled her legs, his tail wagging. She grabbed the old coffee maker and tossed it in the outdoor garbage can while Scottie did his business, then set up the new machine in its place. She put the other bags in the bedroom and, noting the time, saw that she had an hour to get ready. With her hair already done, that simply entailed grabbing a light jacket from her suitcase and setting it within easy reach until she was ready to go.
Which meant she had nothing else to do, other than to alternate between trying to relax on the couch and rising regularly to check her appearance in the mirror, fully conscious of how slowly time seemed to be moving.
A Love Letter
At ten minutes to three, Tru left the house and proceeded down the walkway toward the beach, noting that the temperature had cooled markedly since the morning. The sky was gray and a steady breeze was churning up the ocean. Foam blew down the beach, rolling like tumbleweeds in the westerns he’d sometimes watched on television as a child.