I flushed uncomfortably and she raised an eyebrow, but was kind enough not to pursue the point.
“David told Johan that you’ll be making some of your delicious little Italian delicacies.”
She glanced, puzzled, at my cart. A milk carton and bottle of olive oil blinked back at her.
“I prefer to cook everything from fresh,” I muttered, improvising wretchedly.
“Of course,” she smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Oh, look! There’s the Hunters’ boy over by the cold meat counter. He’s cut his hair. Goodness! Sebastian! Yoo-hoo!”
A brief expression of horror swept over his face before he schooled his features into blankness. He walked towards us, warily.
“Hi, Mrs. Vorstadt.” He paused. “Mrs. Wilson,” he muttered.
“Hello, Sebastian,” she said, eyeing his buzz-cut. “Are you shopping for your mother?”
“Um…”
“That’s awfully good of you. I wish I could get my boys to do chores around the house. They think food just materializes into the refrigerator.”
I laughed weakly and Sebastian smiled, giving a vague, non-committal answer.
“Can I give you a ride home, Sebastian?” Donna offered kindly.
“No, thanks, Mrs. Vorstadt, I’m good.”
She smiled. “Well… see you tomorrow, Caroline.”
“Bye.”
Eventually she disappeared behind the frozen goods and I let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath.
“We must be more careful,” I whispered.
Sebastian nodded solemnly, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“What?!”
He shook his head, a small smile escaping. “Let’s get out of here.”
I abandoned my few goods with the shopping cart, much to the irritation of the staff, no doubt, and headed for the parking lot. Our exit was certainly more discreet than our aborted shopping expedition.
I slipped into the driver’s seat feeling elated and guilty at the same time.
Sebastian let his fingers drift down my neck; a shiver ran through me.
“Not here!”
“Where then?”
“Let’s go to the beach.”
He grinned. “Perfect.”
As I drove he fiddled with the radio and picked up a station playing cool, ambient jazz.
“Mom and dad have been on my case about getting a summer job,” he said casually.
My heart sank: if he worked all day, I’d never see him. I couldn’t go out in the evenings, not without facing the inquisition from David.
“What sort of job?”
He shrugged. “Ches says I could get a job bussing tables at the place he works – the country club out at La Jolla.”
“That sounds… fun.”
“Mostly evening shifts, Caro. I’ll still be free during the days.”
I smiled with relief. “By the way, I’d like you to read my surfing article; just to make sure it’s okay.”
“You finished it?”
He sounded surprised.
“Sure! What else is there to do in the evenings?” I said, teasing.
He scowled. “I hate you going home to that asshole.”
I sighed. “Me, too, but it’s not for much longer.”
The truth was that I found David’s brittle company almost unbearable. I honestly didn’t know if I’d be able to last four months. I’d been turning over in my mind the possibility of moving out: but I was scared and had little money of my own.
I banished the thought of David: here and now was for Sebastian.
“Which beach shall we go to?”
“There’s a place I know not far from here. There’s a beach shack, too, so we should be able to get some food.”
I smiled to myself: the boy could eat.
No, not a boy, I snarled.
But the part of my brain where I parked all my miscreant thoughts was getting pretty damn crowded.
We drove with the windows down, Sebastian leaning back lazily, singing along softly to the radio, while the wind tangled my hair.