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She was smiling. It startled me – made me feel like I’d just insulted her by having a frown on my face. Insulted myself. Deeply. Why was she smiling? My mind whirled on the question and I gritted my teeth, almost to a snarl – I didn’t like feeling like that. And she needed to wipe the smile off her face. Everyone would know. And then… I kicked the horse forward – holding Lynn a bit more roughly. She turned and moved away from my hands a little bit, but I pulled her back against me. I could almost feel her smile fade from her – even though I didn’t see her face. ‘Better’, I thought, sniffing gruffly. ‘I’m not gonna have either of us look like love-struck weaklings…’ We came down the hill into the village rather quickly – and I could already see my father coming out to meet us as part of a group. He looked totally unconcerned about our absence and lateness. But he also seemed to be looking more at Lynn than he was at me. I suddenly was very worried that she had some kind of look on her. When the rain had started, Ginny made no attempt to run for the shelter of the hotel. Too much was happening in her Anne Tyler novel at that moment to justify that. And, anyway, the rain would soon stop.But it didn't. It got heavier and heavier, graduating from tiny dimples in the sand to an overall marshy greyness. Finally, there was no choice and Ginny was the very last person on the beach to collect her towel and wicker bag, her novel shoved hastily to the bottom, and run towards the nearest approximation to shelter.Only, she wasn't the last one after all.Just when she'd ducked under the low-roofed shelter, pulled her knees up to her chin, bag to one side, another pair of bare feet splattered through the damp sand and she was joined by not just anyone but, of all the people it could be, by her, in her elegant one-piece swimsuit and huge green towel."You don't mind if I join you, do you?" she asked.Ginny shook her head, but inwardly fumed. Why did it have to be this woman? Why.
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