Persuaded (11 page)

“Well,
maybe more than friends,” she admitted. “We dated for a while.”

“How
long ago?”

“Let’s
just say Ella was still in elementary school.”

Eli
snorted, which made Hanna feel lighter somehow. “Does Ella know?”

“No,”
Hanna answered. “I don’t see the point.”

“But
your sister knows, right?”

“Not
exactly. Mary and I have never really been bosom buddies. Anyway, the
relationship was really fast—a couple months, start to finish. By the time I
had something to call home about, it was over.”

“Wow.”
They walked in silence for a moment, Eli kicking the sand. “It kind of sucks
that you have to watch them now.”

“It’s
an absolute suck-fest,” she countered, and Eli snickered. “They seem happy,
though.”

“But
you’re not.”

“Is it
that obvious?”

“If
you’re paying attention,” Eli said, lifting a shoulder. “But they obviously
aren’t, so I think you’re safe.”

His observation
brought her no comfort whatsoever.

When
Eli spoke again, there was a measure of mischief in his tone. “I have an idea.”

“That
sounds ominous. Should I be worried?”

He
laughed. “I propose . . . a turning of tables.”

Hanna
narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“Oh
nothing . . . just making him wildly jealous.”

She
dismissed the notion with a derisive chuckle. “He would actually have to be
looking over for that to work.”

“Oh,
he’ll be looking over, don’t you worry.”

“Why?”
Hanna said warily. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing
much,” Eli replied. “Except flirt with you, fawn all over you, and play the
part of a besotted, lovesick idiot.”

When
Hanna slit her eyes at him in suspicion, Eli wiggled his eyebrows at her. “It
could be a lot of fun . . .”

She
dismissed the idea without delay. “I’m sure it would be, just not at the
expense of anyone’s feelings.”

“It
wouldn’t be only that. I think you’re a great girl, Hanna, and I’d love to get
to know you better. If Derick Wentworth
happens
to sit up and take
notice, so much the better for you.” Here he raised his hands in a faultless
gesture.

Something
about this speech rubbed Hanna entirely the wrong way. Was it the dishonesty of
the whole plan or perhaps the thought of Derick feeling something negative in
regard to her? She couldn’t say, and before she could pin it down, the
sensation lifted as they approached Uppercross.

“This
is me,” Hanna said, dipping her head toward the house. They stood awkwardly for
a moment, Eli with his hands in his pockets and Hanna with hers clasped behind
her back. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?” she ventured.

“Four
o’clock, right? Should I bring anything?”

“Honestly
you know more about it than I do at this point. I think it’s safe to say that
Ella has put in some overtime on her matchmaking skills.”

Eli
looked delighted at this information. “Good . . . another player for our team.”

Exasperated,
Hanna took a step in his direction. “Eli, I really appreciate what you’re
trying to do for me, but I’ve never been one for schemes and lying.”

“Who
says I’d be lying?” Eli asked, stepping into the space between them. “The truth
is . . .” he paused here, giving her a crooked, self-deprecating smile. “The
truth is I’ve kind of been kicking myself for not getting your number the other
day.”

Hanna
looked away, embarrassed. Nothing in his words or looks spoke of anything but
sincerity, and yet . . . part of her felt like the acting had already begun.

“I was
hoping you’d put me out of my misery,” he added, holding his phone out to Hanna.

She
eyed him for a minute, trying to deduce why on earth she was hesitating.
Perhaps she was overthinking the whole thing—and overthinking was what had
gotten her into trouble all those years ago. Second-guessing herself in the
past had only ended in heartache—a heartache she was still paying for to this
day.

Here
was a sweet, good-looking, fun,
single
guy who was asking for her
number. What was to think about?

Taking
his phone, she punched in her number, hit “send” and handed it back to him.

His
answering grin was about as wide as Old Lyme Beach.

When
her phone jingled, she answered with an unassuming “Hello?”

“Hanna?”
He grinned, playing along. “This is Eli—the tall, dark, handsome photographer
from the harbor?”

“Eli .
. . Eli . . . Hm. It’s not ringing a bell.”

“Nice,”
Eli laughed, ending the fake call. “Why don’t you text me what to bring
tomorrow if you think of anything.”

“Sounds
good,” Hanna said, backing toward Uppercross. “Thanks again for walking me
home. And for listening.”

“Anytime,”
he called back, heading down the beach. “Make sure you get a good night’s sleep
tonight—tomorrow it begins.”

Hanna
responded by rolling her eyes and waving as she let herself into the house.

☼

 Of
course, she had no way of knowing that it had already begun, that two doors
down, a certain person sat perched on the steps in the dark, watching the mute
interaction with a begrudging interest.

THIRTEEN

DAISIES
and DIZZY SPELLS

All that
remained was to . . . draw as many eyes, excite as many whispers, and disturb
as many people as they could.

—Jane Austen,
Persuasion

The
following day, after Derick and Ella had played in the ocean for a few hours,
Ella announced that she was going home to shower before the bonfire. Derick
toweled off and was about to head home to do the same, when he looked up and
saw Hanna struggling through the back door of Uppercross with a large folding
table. Why she was trying to manage it alone when she had a brother-in-law to
help, Derick couldn’t say. While he wasn’t overly thrilled with the prospect of
being within ten feet of her, it seemed rather heartless not to step up and
help—especially as it was on his way home.

Having
managed to push the table as far as she could, Hanna switched sides, presumably
to use her weight to pull it the rest of the way out the door. If memory
served, she had never been over a buck-ten, and as she looked about the same in
that regard, Derick saw little hope in her managing the task herself.

As
Derick approached from behind, the table caught on the track of the sliding
door and Hanna flew backward, smacking into Derick’s chest. Without thinking,
he brought his arms up to steady her.

It was
clear from her expression when she turned that she hadn’t been expecting to
find him there. Several emotions morphed her features: shock, bewilderment, and
from the red spreading over her face with a vengeance—mortification.

“I-I’m
so sorry,” she stuttered. “I didn’t see you—”

“My
fault,” Derick said, holding up a hand. “I should have said something.”

They
stood awkwardly, both of them suspended in a moment of viscous unease. Then
Derick grabbed the table and heaved it the rest of the way outside. It really
was heavy; he was surprised Hanna made any progress at all with such a weight.
After a moment’s hesitation she grabbed the other end, and together they hauled
it outside and set it up in the sand.

“That
was easier,” Hanna said, scratching her neck. “Thanks.”

“No
problem. Anything else I can bring out?”

She
shook her head. “The rest is all small stuff I can handle.”

Derick
nodded. He should be heading off to clean up now. But he felt like this was the
moment to get over the embarrassment that haunted them like a relentless ghost
every time they found themselves in the same room.

“Are
you having a good summer?” he tried.

Hanna
blinked, evidently flummoxed by his attempt at small talk. “Yes. What about
you? Do you like Old Lyme?”

“It’s
perfect,” Derick admitted. Then, to his own astonishment he found himself
expounding the thought. “It’s kind of tucked away, like a deserted island.”

Hanna
watched him for a moment with wide, pale eyes—faded blue eyes, like the sky at
first light. She smiled, just a bit. “I imagine privacy means more to you than it
used to.”

For
some reason this observation caught Derick off guard. The Hanna he knew had
never been a sports fan, so he found it unlikely that she would be up-to-date
on his career—but the remark showed a disturbing amount of insight. He found it
annoying that Hanna’s sense of intuition hadn’t aged along with her.

Choosing
to ignore the comment, Derick said, “I’m going to head back to Kelynch and
clean up. You’re sure there’s nothing else you need help with?”

Hanna
shook her head. “Thanks again.”

“Yep,”
Derick answered, turning and making his way back home.

Hanna
Elliot had no right to understand him that way anymore. If future attempts at
civility were to end the same way, he would avoid the niceties altogether.

☼

Hanna’s
hands might have been busy, filling the table on the beach with relish trays,
paper cups, and bowls of tortilla chips, but her mind was elsewhere. She kept
replaying her meeting with Derick, kept chanting to herself that the worst was
over, that they’d finally spoken and it could only get easier. She was so
distracted by her thoughts that she didn’t notice Eli coming down the beach
until he was nearly upon her.

“Hey!”
she said, delighted to have something new to think about. And a very charming
something he was, too, in faded jeans and a red shirt that brought out his tan.
His curly hair looked wet, and his brown eyes were warm with delight as he
handed her a bunch of yellow daisies.

“Hey,
yourself.”

“How
beautiful!” Hanna said. “What are these for?”

“They’re
for you,” he answered with a shrug. “You didn’t tell me to bring anything, so I
figured flowers were a safe bet.”

“How
sweet of you.” Truthfully, she had never been given flowers before, even if the
flowers were more of a potluck item. “Why don’t you come inside while I see
about a vase?”

Eli
followed her obediently into the house, leaning against the counter and
watching the progress of her search.

“You’re
the first one to arrive,” she said as she rummaged in cupboards, unable to
resist the urge to fill the silence.

“I may
be early. Do you need help with anything?”

“I
don’t think so,” she said, coming up with a tall canning jar. “Do you think
this will work?”

“Very
country-chic,” he agreed, sidling up next to her. “You look nice, by the way.”

“Thanks,”
Hanna said, coloring only a little. Today she had put on a navy and white
striped knit dress that ended just above her knee. It felt billowy and
comfortable, like an oversized pillowcase cinched at the waist. Leading the way
back outside, Hanna gestured to the flowers. “Should we put these on the
table?”

“Sure,
except for this one.” Eli stepped around to face her, plucked a single daisy
from the vase and tucked it behind her left ear, hiding the stem in one of her
braids. “There. Now a certain sailor will see that I have staked my claim on
you.”

Hanna
did blush in earnest now. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

“So
I’ve heard.” He grinned, not a bit ashamed.

Shaking
her head, Hanna moved past him and set the flowers on the table.

Within
half an hour, everyone who’d been invited, and some who hadn’t, had turned up.
There really was a different feeling in Old Lyme, like stepping into a bubble
where time moved slower, life was easier, and even emergencies were less
urgent.

Eli
played his part so well that even Hanna was nearly convinced by the time pies
were brought out for dessert. Thankfully, he’d kept his hands to himself,
though his eyes hardly ever strayed from her. In truth she was grateful for the
distraction. Across the fire, Derick and Ella seemed to have eyes for no one
but each other. While Eli’s attentions toward Hanna were smooth, calculated,
and quiet, Ella was anything but. When she wasn’t giggling, she was squealing.
When she wasn’t squealing, she was tickling, tackling, or tantalizing Derick in
some way. He didn’t seem to mind though, which made the whole thing that much
harder to swallow.

More
than once, Hanna glimpsed Sophie eyeing her brother with something very like
distaste. For anyone who was watching, it was clear that Derick’s sister did
not approve. The thought made Hanna feel somewhat better. Benny, too, seemed
less than impressed with the display, but as Hanna didn’t know him very well,
she couldn’t say for sure. He could be thinking about Phoebe.