She showered and shampooed, and though she was in a hurry, she discovered that she was determined to be thorough. She shaved her legs, dried her hair with the blow-dryer and despite herself, opted for makeup. She chose a knit dress that was both casual and slinky, and though appalled at her choice, she went for heeled sandals.
Dressing up as if out on the hunt, she mocked herself.
It wasn’t her—it wasn’t the way she lived.
And yet, that night, it was.
Impatient at last, she gave her hair a last brush and hurried out. As she crossed the street, whistles followed her from the tiny bar next door. She blushed and was glad.
The two men were hanging at the entrance to Irish Kevin’s—the music could be heard clearly from there. The band was good, playing something from Three Dog Night that she hadn’t heard in years and years but sounded absolutely great.
“Shall we?” Sean said, seeing her.
David whistled. “What a transformation.”
She laughed. “Thank you.”
Sean cleared his throat. “Yes, you look great. But transformation? David, are you implying that she doesn’t look great wet, in sand, with ratty hair?”
“Not in the least. And I’d have never said ratty hair,” David protested.
“Hmm. You’re right. I do apologize!” Sean said.
She grinned. “Thank you both, I’m pretty sure. Should we go and see if Jay is still at your house?”
They agreed. She walked between the two of them as they traveled the short distance from Duval to the O’Hara house.
Vanessa remembered it well. She had stayed here with Katie many a time.
It hadn’t changed much, though Katie had added a few little touches that made it her own. There were new seascapes on the walls, light, new upholstery on the furniture that still seemed to fit the Victorian period of the house, and there was a new entertainment center with a flat-screen TV in the parlor. Walking into the house was comfortable. She’d spent good times there.
“You know my house?” Sean asked her.
“I spent a lot of nights here,” she said.
“Pity. And I never knew,” Sean murmured.
“Hey! You’re back!” Jay called from the rear of the house, once an open porch, then a screened porch, now a glassed-in family room.
They headed toward the sound of Jay’s voice.
The rear of the house had changed. It was all Sean O’Hara’s now, with several screens set up, a large computer, camera equipment here and there, microphones, booms and more. Jay was in a twirling office chair at the computer.
“Nessa, old gal, you’ve made it with the boys! I’m so glad. This is great stuff, great!” Jay said enthusiastically.
“He’s shy, never toots his own horn,” Vanessa said dryly.
“Let’s see it,” Sean said.
Jay hit a key that sent the film to the largest of the screens in the room. They moved around to perch on chairs to watch. As she took a seat on the divan by the back of the house, Vanessa felt a chill sweep through her and something almost like a gentle touch on her arm. She looked around, certain one of the men was near her. But Sean was perched on a stool and David had taken the wicker wingback chair to her far right. Neither was anywhere near her.
And Jay was at the computer chair still, arms crossed over his chest.
Vanessa had to admit that the footage was fantastic. Marty was an amazing subject and storyteller, and Jay had the editing just right. It ran approximately three minutes, with an extra twenty seconds of the old pirate historian playing his sea shanty. In all, it was fabulous footage.
“Well?” Jay demanded.
“You’re good,” Sean said.
“Yes, very good,” David agreed.
“Am I hired? Please?” Jay begged.
Sean was still staring at the screen, though it was dark. “Yes,” he said. “You’re hired.”
Jay let out a yelp of joy. He sprang from the chair and came to Vanessa, pulling her from her seat, swirling her around the room. “Thank God, thank God!”
She didn’t share his elation. She felt her cheeks redden, and she nodded.
Sean rose, ignoring the two of them. “This is what we got the other day,” he told David. He hit a few keys. Sean narrated what had been shot, and she knew that, beyond a doubt, she would watch the documentary even if she had nothing to do with it. His voice was a captivating tenor with the right inflection at every moment. There was footage she hadn’t even realized he had taken as she set her mask and slipped off the side of the boat. Her shots of the reef with the brilliant fish flashed by as he explained the wrecks and the delicacy of the reefs, along with the dangers they had, and still did, create. There was footage of her with the grouper as he talked about the wonder of the reef today—and then went into the sinking of the Santa Geneva as she was beset by pirates. He talked about the legend, about the film crew, and how they had chosen, in presenting unsolved mysteries, to focus on the legend of the Santa Geneva, Mad Miller, Kitty Cutlass and the sad plight of Dona Isabella. That legend had given rise to many others.”