“Hi,” he called out, and she whirled around, her eyes wide and a guilty blush spreading across her cheeks. But when she saw it was only him, she relaxed again, letting out a shaky laugh.
“I thought you were my mom,” she said, opening the car door and tossing the backpack inside. She was wearing jeans and a purple tank top with a pair of sunglasses perched on her head, and she had about a thousand new freckles spread across her cheeks after spending yesterday at the beach.
“I get that a lot,” Graham said, walking over to lean against the trunk. “Typecasting.”
She smiled at this, but it was quick to fall flat again. “Did you see?”
He didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I couldn’t bring myself to look. But Harry said they didn’t get your name.”
Ellie lowered her eyes. “Not yet, anyway.”
They were both quiet for a moment, and then she cleared her throat.
“I have to get going,” she told him.
Graham nodded. “I’m coming too.”
She looked at him sharply. “No, you’re not.”
“What time are we leaving?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard her, but she only frowned up at him, her eyes narrowed.
“I get it,” she said. “I get that you want to get out of here today. But last night changed things. This is important, and you’re way too conspicuous.”
“I told you,” he said, attempting a smile, “I’ll wear a disguise.”
Ellie shook her head again. “Sorry.”
When she turned to head back into the house, Graham followed her without an invitation. “What do you think will happen?”
She spun to face him, her green eyes measuring him. “There are a million different possibilities,” she said. “We could stop for gas and someone might recognize you. Some twelve-year-old girl in the next car could look over and start texting all her friends. We could have photographers following us on motorcycles.” She paused and shook her head. “You,” she said. “We could have photographers following you on motorcycles. This is going to be tricky enough without having Graham Larkin as a wingman.”
He was stung by the way she said his name, like he was someone she didn’t even know, but he refused to back down. They were in the kitchen now, and Ellie opened the door to the fridge, peering at the shelves like she’d forgotten why she was there in the first place. He walked up beside her, feeling the cool of the artificial air on his bare legs.
“I have to do this alone,” she said, her voice soft.
From where he was standing, he could see the freckles sprinkled across her pale shoulder, and he could smell her shampoo—something sweet, like lavender. He swallowed hard, but didn’t say anything.
After a moment, Ellie shook her head. “You’re too conspicuous,” she said again, but this time, the words were wavery and Graham took a step closer.
“Then let’s not take a car,” he said, an idea taking shape in his mind.
She turned, just slightly, but enough to find herself angled between Graham and the door. “What, then?” she asked, and he smiled.
“We’ll go by boat.”
From: [email protected]
Sent: Thursday, July 4, 2013 7:18 AM
To: [email protected]
Subject: (no subject)
I’m running a few minutes late, but I’ll see you down there. I can only assume you’ll be the one with the mustache…
They agreed to meet at the harbor in an hour.
Graham went to get a few things in town, including the keys for the Go Fish from the prop trailer, while Ellie fumbled around on her computer, trying to plot the course from Henley to Kennebunkport. From what she could tell, if they made good time, they could be there in just over two hours. It wasn’t yet seven o’clock, so even if the news broke early, they should still be able to beat it there.
Outside, the sky already had the makings of a perfect summer day, and the water stretched out as wide and still as a great blue carpet. As Ellie walked into town, her backpack heavy on her shoulders, she counted the merits of their plan in the same way she might count the benefits of an extra ice-cream cone (calcium) or a few extra minutes of sleep (energy). There were a dozen ways she could try to justify taking the boat, but mainly, they were avoiding the biggest snag in Ellie’s previous scheme: the fact that she’d have to somehow borrow Mom’s car. She’d still been working out how to handle that particular issue when Graham had shown up, all confidence and conviction, and she’d let herself get carried away with him.
The truth was, it didn’t matter how she got there: by car or by boat or by high-flying hot-air balloon. No matter how she arrived, the ending would be the same: she’d have to face her father. And the idea of standing before him as he tried to register just who exactly she was—a look of confusion in his eyes, or worse, something even more dismissive, a look of annoyance—was almost too painful to contemplate.
Her reason for going was simple: she was planning to ask him for money. But she also knew it was a lot more complicated than that.
Closer to town, the road dipped away from the trees, curving toward the water, and where the air would normally be filled with the sounds of boats—the deep pealing bells and the blaring of the horns—there was now only the discordant notes of the band as they cued up on the green. From a distance, Ellie could see a blur of red, white, and blue, the usual chaos of food and music and games that colored the festivities, and she was counting on all of that to distract Mom later on, when it would no doubt occur to her that she hadn’t seen her daughter all day.
As she stepped onto the long boardwalk, hurrying past the shuttered bait shop, she craned her neck to see if Graham was already out on the boat. The film crew had been given a prime slip for the duration of their shoot, and Ellie knew the trickiest part would be getting out of the harbor unnoticed. The whole town would be up in the village, but it wouldn’t be long now before some of them would begin to load up their own boats. Today was a day for sailing and drinking, for bobbing out under the blazing sun until the sky flipped over into dark and the fireworks were sent scribbling out over all of it. For now, she took comfort in the fact that even if someone saw them, they would never guess their plan; it was only her mom she had to worry about.
Near the gated entrance to the harbor, Ellie was startled to see Quinn up ahead on the road. It was disorienting to run into her here, in this of all moments, and she couldn’t help feeling unprepared. They were far enough apart that she could have pretended not to notice her. But when their eyes met, she saw the slightest hitch in Quinn’s step, the smallest pause in her momentum. Ellie offered her a smile, and she came to a reluctant stop just a few feet away, the two of them regarding each other across the bed of yellow flowers that separated the boardwalk from the road that ran parallel to it.
“Hi,” Ellie said, and Quinn yielded a polite smile. She was wearing a blue shirt from Sprinkles, and it took only a moment for Ellie to realize which one it was.
“You got the stain out,” she said with a grin, and something flickered to life behind Quinn’s eyes where before there had been only a carefully maintained coolness.
“It’s not great,” she said, holding out the hem to examine it. “But my other ones were dirty.” When she looked up again, she seemed to be considering something. “I still have to give yours back.”
“Keep it,” Ellie told her, and she smiled—this time, for real. “It’s the least I can do as your wardrobe specialist.”
“That day was sort of a mess,” she said, and Ellie knew she was talking about more than just the milkshake. She was talking about all of it, everything that had happened since the movie trailers had arrived in town.