Don paused to straighten his tie before the rearview mirror of his Jeep, then walked up the steps and pressed the bell.
Nancy answered. "You look terrific, Don. Come on in. I'll just be a minute." She led him into the den where, except for age, her duplicate worked crewel. "Mother, this is Don."
"It's so nice to meet you at last, Don; Nancy speaks of you often. Won't you sit down?"
"No, thanks. We'll be going as soon as Nancy gets her coat." As he looked about the comfortable room, an Irish setter uncurled from his place on the hearth rug and ambled over to sniff at Don.
"That's Mutt," Nancy's mother said. "He belongs to Tommy."
Don scratched the dog's ears, hearing a grunt of pleasure.
"You've found his weakness. He'll never leave you alone now."
Don held out the florist's box to Nancy when she returned with her coat. "These are for you."
"Gardenias! I love them. Would you help me, Don?"
"Ah... sure." Awkwardly, he helped her pin the corsage to her dress.
At the curb, Nancy looked at his Peep in surprise.
"I'm sorry. It's cold riding, but it's the only practical thing where we live." He helped her in.
"Don't apologize, I love Jeeps. Dad has one we use at the beach, but I've never seen one little as this before. What's it like where you live?"
"It's great. The house is in the woods and looks out over the sound. There's no one else around for miles. It's like living in another world."
"Don't you miss being around people?" Nancy shuddered at the thought of such isolation.
"Heck no. There's too much to do, and there's Kurt and Erik."
"Who's Erik?"
"He's a coastie at North Station, but he lives with us when he isn't on duty. He's a great guy."
"Isn't Professor Lawrence married?"
"Lord, no!"
"But who takes care of you?"
"We all do. I mean I help with the cleaning and Kurt and Erik do most of the cooking."
"Oh."
The college gym was filled with couples dancing or talking in small groups when they arrived. All went well until the band started a slow number. Don looked at Nancy, memories flooding back.
"What's wrong? Are you afraid to put your arms around a girl?" Nancy teased.
"No." Don drew her close.
"I thought you liked me."
"You know I do. It isn't that."
"What, then?"
"The last time I asked a girl for a date, she wouldn't go out with me because of my arm."
"She was stupid! You're you and I like you for it." She let her head rest on his small shoulder.
"Would you like to go by the Abbey for a cup of coffee?" Don asked when the dance ended.
"I'd love it."
Don parked the Peep and proudly escorted Nancy in.
"Good evening, Mr. Warner. Your usual table?" Charles greeted.
Don whispered in the man's ear.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Lawrence, I didn't know of the change. May I say that I'm delighted for you. Your table, sir."
"Thank you. We'll have coffee."
The maitre d' whisked the 'Reserved' sign away and seated Nancy. She looked around the nearly deserted room.
"Would you rather sit somewhere else?" Don asked.
"Oh, no, this is fine. I didn't know you were so important."
"I'm not," he replied with a puzzled expression.
"You must be. It isn't everyone who has their own table here and gets greeted by name."
"I guess maybe Kurt is, I'm not."
"Ha!" She refused to believe him, impressed that he had not suggested a place where other students might be gathering.
"Chef sends these with his compliments." Charles placed the fresh apricot tarts topped with whipped cream before them with their coffee.
Don looked up in surprise. "Thank you."
"Oh, Don, these are sheer heaven," Nancy sighed after a taste. "We never get anything like this when daddy brings us here."
"Kurt doesn't even bother to order. Charles just brings whatever he thinks we'll like. That's why I like to come here."
Lingering over their coffee, Nancy reached across the table to squeeze Don's hand. "Can I ask you something personal?"
Don stiffened. "I guess so, but I don't promise to answer."
"Why'd the maitre 'd call you Mr. Warner? You told me Professor Lawrence was your father, but he's way too young."
Don grinned. "He is my dad. He adopted me just before school started. Charles didn't know about it."
"Really? Were you an orphan?"
"Sort of. Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime."
When Nancy had finished, Don stood. "Are you ready?" He held her chair, then started toward the kitchen.
"Where are you going?"
"I've got to wash dishes to pay for this."
"Oh, Don, really."
The chef met them at the door. "Mr. Lawrence."
"The tarts were delicious. Thank you for thinking of us."
"It's my pleasure. I had the pastry chef make a few to see if they pleased our patrons."
When he returned to her, Nancy looked at him in amazement. "You even know the chef?"
"Yeah. He always fixes something special for us when we eat here."
"Like the tarts?"
"Sure. He's a neat guy."
A blue MGA was parked in the drive of Nancy's home. He pulled in behind it.
"Tommy's here," Nancy cried. "Come meet him."
Don followed her into the house, where a muscular young man was talking with an older man and roughhousing with the setter. Nancy hugged him.
"Hi, sis. Where've you been?"
"Don took me to the dance. Don, this is daddy Doctor Peterson, and my brother Tommy."
"Will you children have some coffee?" Her mother called from the kitchen.
"We just had some at the Abbey," Nancy replied, "and the most wonderful apricot tart."
Having noted Don's accent, Nancy's father looked at him closely. "You're not from this area?"
"No, sir. The beach. We live up by North Station."
Dr. Peterson frowned. "I thought I knew that area. I used to hunt up that way quite a bit, but I wasn't aware that anyone other than a few natives lived up there year 'round."
"Kurt's uncle built the house. We've been there just over two years, now."
"Is it a big old place with a fence around it?" Tommy asked.
Don nodded.
"You remember it, don't you, dad? We were looking at it one time when we were duck hunting and the patrol from the life station told us to stay away."
"I believe I recall it. I remember thinking at the time that it was unusual to find a house that size in such an out of the way place."
"We like it. Except for the station, there's nobody around."
"I want to see it sometime."
"Nancy!" Her mother exclaimed. "You simply do not invite yourself into someone else's home."
"That's all right, Mrs. Peterson." Don smiled at Nancy. "I'd like Nancy to come. I'd have asked you before, but you can't get there from here."
"What do you mean? You and Professor Lawrence get here to school." Nancy said.
Don grinned. "Yeah. But we have four-wheel drive and know the way. I mean we live in the middle of nowhere. The house is in a woods and there's nothing else but sand and the ocean. The Coast Guard station is the only landmark around and if you get there you've gone about a mile too far."
"Don't you ever get lost?"
"Unh, unh. I sort of know how to get there by instinct. There are things which tell me where I am, but they wouldn't mean anything to anybody else. Besides, If you did come, you'd have to use a Jeep or something like that. I mean there's no road so you have to drive the beach. If you can come, I'll be glad to have you."
"I'll nag Tommy until he takes me."
"You can depend on that. If there's anything she's good at, it's nagging until she gets her way," Tommy teased.
The heavy chime of the grandfather's clock filled the room. Don glanced at his watch. "Gosh, I've got to get underway. Kurt'll kill me."
They stood on the steps for a moment. "Oh, Don, I had such a good time. I really do want to come see where you live."
"I want you to." Don gave her a lingering kiss.
When Nancy returned to the den her brother looked at her teasingly. "Good God, sis, where'd you find that little kid?"
"At school. We have some classes together."
"You're kidding! He can't be more than about fifteen."
"He's my age."
"I don't care if he is, you don't want everybody thinking you robbed the cradle, do you?"
"Oh, shut up, Tommy. I like him and I don't give a darn what anybody else thinks. Just because I don't like the guys you think I ought to date, you knock everyone I like. I'll date him if I want to."
Don was still euphoric when he came down to breakfast the next morning.
"Good time last night?" Kurt asked.
"You bet. Nancy's great."
"Ah, ha! Look who's in love." Erik teased.
Don colored. "Come off it."
"It's true, isn't it?"
"She's a good friend, that's all."
"A very pretty one, too, I hear."
"Aaah ... I suppose so."
Mid-afternoon on Saturday, a few weeks later, Don stepped back to view the painting he was doing for art class. The buzzer sounded. Erik, practicing, did not hear it. Kurt looked up from his book. "Would you get it, Don?"
As he opened the door, a Jeep shrouded in canvas curtains rounded the curved drive; Tommy at the wheel, Nancy beside him. She jumped from the Jeep and hugged him. "I told you I'd nag him until he brought me."
"I'm glad you did. Hi, Tommy. Come on in." He hung their coats and indicated the library door.
"This is a pleasant surprise."
"Hello, Professor. This is my brother Tommy."
"And this is Erik Lindstrom."
"Hi. Don's told me a lot about you."
"I was afraid of that. I'm practicing for Mass tomorrow, so if you'll forgive me, I'll finish." He resumed, playing softly.
"What a lovely fire." Nancy drew close to the hearth to warm.
"How did you find us?" Kurt asked.
Nancy laughed. "We almost didn't. When Don was talking about where he lived, Tommy said he knew where it was, but we got lost. I teased him so much he stopped at the Coast Guard station to ask. There was the cutest guy outside and when I asked where Don lived, he wouldn't tell us. Then this tremendous man came out and asked why we wanted to see you. When I told him I was looking for Don, he told us how to get here. Can you believe it?"
To her astonishment the three of them burst out laughing. "I can believe it, Miss Peterson," Kurt answered. "We rather value our privacy, and it has recently been disturbed by undesirable people. The crew of the station are protective of us."
"I hope we didn't upset anything by coming."
"Not at all," Kurt reassured. "You are most welcome. Don, I think our guests might care for something warm after that cold ride."
"I'll come with you." Nancy followed him into the kitchen and fixed the coffee for herself and Tommy. "I want to see everything."
"You've seen it."
She gave Don a puzzled look.
"I mean you've seen it all. There's just the library and the kitchen here, except for the bedrooms."
"It looks so big from the outside."
"I know. The library just doesn't look so large inside because the organ takes up a lot of room."
"Oh. Where did Professor Lawrence get all the paintings?"
"I did them."
"Really? The portraits, too?"
Don nodded. Nancy interrupted Tommy's conversation with Kurt, calling him to see the portraits. "Aren't they wonderful?" She stopped before the portrait of Kevin. "I just love this one. Who is he?"
"A friend of ours. I think that's my best work."
"He looks so lonely I want to hold him."
"That's what I was after. I'm working on one now for an assignment. Did you see it?"
She crossed to the easel looking at the outline sketch. "Is that a cat?"
"Um-hum. It's Coastie. He doesn't like to pose for me."
"Where is he?"
"Over there." Don pointed to a small antique chair next to the bookcases, but when Nancy bent to caress the cat, he jumped from the chair and stalked from the room, tail disdainfully erect.
"I'm sorry," Don said at her look of surprise. "He's strictly my cat. He never lets anyone he doesn't know get near him."
"Why'd you name him Coastie?"
"Erik brought him from the station. That cat's Coast Guard all the way."
After looking at the portrait of Kevin again, she turned back to Don. "Would you paint my portrait?"
Don looked at her in flustered surprise. "I ... I don't know. I'm pretty busy with study and the assignments Mi ... Schoënbrun gives me and I've got to do a few more to sell."
"Tommy and I will pay you," she said quickly. "We want it to give the folks at Christmas. What do you charge?"
"I get seventy-five for a big painting, but ..."
"That's fine. Mother's been after me, but I can't stand that weird man she wants to do it."
"I guess I could work it in. It's October now, so it'll be about Thanksgiving before I finish."
"Wonderful. Will I have to come sit for you?"
"I think I know you well enough to do it, but it would help a lot if I could have a photograph you like to go by."
"There's one at home. I'll sneak it out and give it to you in class. Can we go outside?"
"It's chilly."
"That's okay, my coat's heavy."
The fallen leaves rustled beneath their feet as they strolled under the twisted oaks, dodging occasional festoons of Spanish moss. Here and there, russet leaves of dogwoods sparked color among the shades of green and brown. A cardinal flew from one of the trees where he had been picking the crimson berries. In the shallows of the sound, a white heron stalked fingerlings among the mallows, dotted here and there with a last few white blooms, presaging the chill nor'easters soon to blow unfettered. Gulls wheeled in erratic patterns above the brown marsh grasses, their shrill cries breaking the silence. The setting sun struck sparkles on the ripples with its last rays, then vanished, leaving a crimson band low in the western sky.
They stood by the boathouse watching the sun set. Don's hand sought hers. Holding it, he slipped them into the patch pocket of his jacket to warm. Nancy looked at Don with quiet affection. His arm went around her as he tilted his head to kiss her.
"Oh, Don," she whispered. They stood looking at one another for a moment, fearing the spell, intensified by the deepening twilight, would be broken if they spoke. Don felt her shiver. "You're cold. Let's go in."
As Tommy drove away, Nancy sat quietly, savoring the glow that had arisen when Don kissed her. She recalled her surprise when Don had joined the line on registration day. She had been scarcely able to tear her attention from the elfin figure she had pictured so often in her fantasies, yet here he was, and she had spoken to him, half afraid he would vanish as quickly as her dreams.
His attitude for the first couple of weeks of school had puzzled her, too. There was his unusual relationship with Professor Lawrence; however she had been unable to fathom that part of Don's life, despite her determined efforts. But the way he had kissed her - it was as she had known it from the very first time, soft, wraith-like, not like others she had dated before. They could never make her feel as she felt now. Once she had called him a pixie and he had laughed, saying, "Hellion would be more like it." True, she had thought at the time, there was an uneven quality about him.
But what a place to live! Within the deep shadows cast by the twisted trees, the dark stain on the massive shingled house appeared almost black. It had seemed to loom over her, a brooding Halloween presence, while the encircling fence cried, 'Keep out. You're not wanted here.' She shuddered from a vague foreboding that momentarily overshadowed her pleasure. Thought after confused thought tumbled about in her mind. At last, she turned toward her brother. "What do you think, Tommy?"
He gave her a questioning glance. It was unusual for her to keep quiet for so long. "You want my opinion of Don or the whole weird bunch?"
"Stop it!" Nancy stamped her foot in vexation. "They may be unusual, but they're not weird. Don's sweet and Professor Lawrence is one of the best teachers I've ever had."
Tommy laughed. "I thought you had something going for Don."
"So what if I do?"
"They have to be the most self-contained bunch I've ever seen. It makes you wonder if they have any friends or want any."
"I know they have one. Don's always talking about somebody he calls 'The Chief.'"
"I guess he's the big man we saw at the station. If I could find out something about them, they'd make a good study for my psychology paper."
"You still haven't said what you think of them."
"They're all right, I guess. Lawrence isn't too bad to talk to, but he's awfully reserved. That Erik's the one strikes me as really odd." He grimaced. "Imagine a guy that big being an organist. He looks more like a pro football player, but he's probably too much of a sissy. "
"What about Don?"
"You didn't give me a chance to talk to him. You think it was a good idea to ask him to paint your portrait?"
"Why not? I don't have to take it unless we both like it. Besides, I like the way he paints. That one of the boy still makes chills go up my back."
"It was weird, all right. Funny how he wouldn't talk about the kid. I just hope the one he does of you is more civilized. You don't have to go back while he's painting, do you?"
She shook her head. "He said he could work from that photograph mother has."
"Good. I wasn't too sold on the idea."
"Why?"
"Well ... I mean there would be just you in there with three men."
"Don't you trust them?" Nancy asked quickly.
"It's not that. It's ... well ... I don't know. I just didn't like the idea."
"I don't know why not. Don's sweet, and Professor Lawrence always acts so proper I don't think he ever relaxes. I don't care what you think anyway. I like Don and I'm going to keep on seeing him."
"Just be careful, sis. I thought you'd want somebody taller than you and looked more like a man than a kid. He's a cripple, too."
"What's that got to do with anything? He's not that much shorter than me and I don't care how many arms he has. You could add intelligent and artistic and gentleman to your list." She snapped.
Tommy colored. "Come off it."
"Then stop knocking him. You know you're going to have to bring me back to get the painting. Daddy won't let me drive the Jeep off the road by myself."
She gave up trying to get Tommy to elaborate, for some of the glow had diminished. Even had he wished, Tommy could not have explained his feelings, interpreting their reserve as secrecy. He strongly suspected that Erik, if not Kurt, was gay.
Nancy's image emerged steadily from the canvas as Don worked. From time to time, he would swear and scrub furiously at a small area with a rag, then resume outlining. The other portraits had seemed to spring naturally from his brush, but this one must be perfect in every detail.
Kurt looked up as Don sighed, "At last."
"Have you finally gotten what you want?"
"I think so. Take a look."
Don's peculiar qualities were evident in the sketch. If they did not change when he started painting, the portrait would be more than deserving of the price. In terms of labor alone it was justified. Kurt sought to express his admiration. "It's lovely. She looks so natural."
Don grinned with relief. "I was afraid you were going to say it's too posed."
"One might think so if they didn't know her, but once you've been around her for a few minutes, you know that it's perfectly natural. I hope she's pleased. You didn't follow that photograph too closely."
"I tried to make it different. I mean she's got the photo. This is something else. Mike's going to let this count as my major work for the quarter."
"That's generous of him. Are you planning to start painting now?"
"I thought I would."
"Just don't carried away and let your other work suffer. You still have that novel to read for class discussion and the paper on it is due next week."
"I know. I won't work on this any more than I do my other assignments."
Towards the end of the week, Don tossed the paperback he'd been reading on the table. Kurt looked up. "Have you finished?"
"Yeah. It was far out. How come you picked Fahrenheit 451 for us to read?"
"It's an excellent book for exciting discussion and I can use it to impress on students the importance of reading. Which question are you taking for your paper? I assume you are taking one from the list since you haven't suggested another."
"The use of electronic media as an external control of the mind."
"I'm delighted you picked a topic beyond the obvious. Many of the people in class aren't even aware of how watching hours of TV has already affected their ability to read. The greatest portion of your research will have to be gotten primarily from periodicals. It will mean a lot of research in the library."
"You have a book or two about it."
"You may use them, of course, but they're a few years old and the studies are rather inconclusive. I'm certain there's been more relevant information published since they came out."
"I'll use them for basics and work in the library my free periods."
Friday just before class, Don dropped a bulging folder on Kurt's desk. "Can I leave this here while I'm in class?"
"Of course. What is all that?"
"Stuff I found in the library and copied. I think I've got enough to do my paper without any more. Do I have to type it?"
"Absolutely."
"But you know I'm so slow at it."
"Perhaps you can con Erik into doing it for you, but he'll have to follow the standard thesis form I gave you as a hand-out."
He let Kurt out at the gate and continued on to the station to pick up Erik.
"I've got a job for you." He said as Erik settled in the passenger seat.
"Not again! You're getting to be a pest."
"I haven't asked you for a darn thing since school opened."
"So? What do you want this time?"
"Type my term-paper for me."
Erik groaned. "How long is it?"
"I think it'll be about fifteen pages. Kurt didn't set any length. He said it should be long enough to cover the topic we chose."
"It's for his class?"
"Yeah."
Erik groaned again. "I can just guess the format he's set. I'll bet he wants the footnotes on the bottom of the page of citation."
"Yeah. We flunk if they aren't."
"I'll take a look at it tomorrow. I'm tired tonight."
"I've got to finish writing it anyway. I'll do it tonight."
Saturday afternoon Don handed Erik the pages.
"You expect me to read this hen scratch?"
"Darn straight. Get with it. I've got other things to do."
"Like your girl's portrait?"
"Is there anything more important?"
"Maybe not to you. Go get the typewriter and paper."
Don set the machine on the desk and plugged it in. After laying a pack of paper beside it, he passed Erik the sheet of requirements Kurt had set. "Kurt sure is being difficult," Erik said after reading it.
"You don't have any room to talk; you're the one wants everything perfect. Here, this may help." He handed Erik a slender paperback. "It's the thesis manual Kurt made us buy. Just remember to put the footnotes at the bottom of the page like it shows. I'd have to do a dozen pages just to get one right. That's why I want you to type it."
"It isn't that hard. Let me show you a trick." Erik typed a page rapidly then made a guide sheet, showing Don how to space for the footnotes.
"That's neat. Save it for me."
Don resumed work on Nancy's portrait. As if he'd known his presence wasn't required, Coastie wandered into the library and rubbed against Don's ankles, purring loudly. Don picked him up, stroking him as he studied the painting. He was startled to hear a faint hiss of air in the silence. Erik sat on the organ bench thumbing through a book of music.
"Hey! I thought you were typing my paper."
"It's all done. It's up to you to proof-read it. I hate to admit it, but I enjoyed doing it. Your subject was interesting."
"It's kind of scary thinking about what can happen if people don't read and talk with others about things."
Don read the paper carefully. "Thanks, Erik. I couldn't find anything wrong."
"Good. It's been a while since I've typed a formal paper. Now you owe me one."
"Are you completely satisfied that it's ready to turn in, Don?" Kurt asked.
"Yeah. Erik did a great job on the typing and I think it all makes sense."
"If you want to turn it in now instead of waiting until class, I'll read it."
"I knew there had to be some advantage to having a professor in the house."
Don ducked the magazine Kurt threw at him and returned to his painting.
"Don," Kurt called later, "this is excellent. It's precisely what I had hoped you might do with the subject. I'll be pleased if the other papers come near yours in quality."
Don cleaned the brush he had been using, dropped it back in the jar, and went to sit by Kurt. "It was really interesting once I got into it. Do you think something like this could really happen?"
"It's theoretically possible. If flat wall-size TV screens are ever perfected and become a commercial product, then those who surround themselves may well lose touch with reality. If those who choose information control, psychology of the sub-conscious, or 'brain washing,' present their facts as well as you have, it should be an interesting seminar. You may not like what you hear, but I'll guarantee that you'll think about it."
"It's just so fantastic."
"Aren't a lot of things. You do know that Jules Verne lived to see some of his fantasies become reality."
"I hope this doesn't. Makes me glad I've got other things to do besides watch TV."
In English class on Monday, Nancy asked, "Have you finished it yet?"
"I gave it to Kurt Saturday night."
"I didn't mean the paper; I meant my portrait."
"Good Lord, no. You think I'm superman? Doing a portrait right takes time. Besides, I wanted to get my paper out of the way and I had some algebra to do."
"When will you finish?"
"It'll take a month, at least, with everything else I've got to do. I've just finished up the sketch. Of course, if you want a sloppy job ..."
"I can take a hint," she whispered as Kurt began to call roll.
With Erik on duty, Don helped Kurt clean Saturday morning. After lunch he went to the easel once more.
"Are you going to paint some more?"
"No. Tony's supposed to ..."
"Don?"
"In here, Tony."
"Hi. Ready to go?"
"Where are you going?" Kurt asked.
"It's so warm out we thought we'd take a sail. Why don't you come with us, Kurt," Don begged.
"If you guys don't mind, I think I will. I haven't been out in a while. Let me get this leg off first."
"You don't have to, do you?"
"Yeah. No way I'll get in a boat with it on. If we were to capsize, the weight would pull me down. Getting it wet doesn't help it any, either."
"I guess I'd better take off my hook, then."
The afternoon was warmer than might have been expected for Indian summer. The sun blazed down from a cloudless sky. Though the trees along the shore broke the southeasterly breeze, once they were a few yards from shore the Tern skimmed along at a rate which kept both Don and Tony hanging outboard to hold the craft on an even keel.
The shore was dotted with color from the branches of late turning leaves, colors made more brilliant by the background of dark pines. Brambles splashed vermilion berries against the darkness of the wild bay they entangled. As they sailed around the point and Kurt corrected course, Don asked, "Have you got any money with you?"
He felt in the pockets of his jeans. "A little. Why?"
Don pointed to a low building on the shore of the mainland. "If you've got enough let's sail across to the restaurant and get a cup of coffee or something before we head back."
"If you wish. We'll have a fair point with the wind most of the way back, so it shouldn't take too long."
He maneuvered the Tern to a sandy spot below the restaurant parking lot. Tony dropped the sails after throwing the bow line over an old piling. He and Don jumped easily to the narrow strip of sand. "Aren't you coming?" Don asked.
"Without my crutches? You don't think I'm going to crawl up that bluff, do you?"
Don pointed to a gently sloping path a few feet away. "The path is easy. Tony and I can help you, and we can sit at one of the picnic tables."
When Kurt assented with misgivings, the boys balanced him between them, his weight swinging lightly. "Drop me in that cold water and you're both in trouble," he teased, but Tony took particular care to maintain his footing in the yielding sand.
"Now," Kurt said after he was seated at the picnic table near the edge of bluff, "go get what you want. I'll have coffee." He handed Don a handful of change and several crumpled dollar bills.
One of the waitresses greeted Tony as they entered. "Hi, Tony. What'll you have?"
He looked at Don. "Have we got enough to get some pie? They make their own here and it's great."
"Sure. Let's have three coffees and apple pie to go."
"Sorry, but I'm out of paper plates. You'll have to eat it here."
"Can we take it out to the picnic table if we promise to bring the plates back?" Tony asked.
"Well, seeing as it's you, I guess I can take a chance." She held the tray out to Tony as Don paid. "You be sure to bring them plates back now."
She watched through the large window that overlooked the sound as the boys carried the tray to the table where Kurt sat. 'Wonder why he didn't come in with them,' she thought, then caught sight of his face. 'Why that's the one came in here a few times.'
"Helen," she beckoned to another waitress then pointed through the window, "that's the fellow you were asking me about that lives up toward Corolla."
"He's sure good looking. I wish he'd come in so I could really see him."
"That's all you'd get. Tony won't tell me a thing about 'em. I asked him after I heard some of the kids talking about the fun they had when they were practicing for the program last Christmas. Did you hear it?"
Helen shook her head.
"You should of. I didn't know anybody could get so much music out of them little devils. He played a ... a harp something. I never heard such."
They watched them enjoying themselves until Tony picked up the tray to return it.
Helen took the tray from Tony and watched as he rejoined Kurt and Don. "Marge, look," she pointed out the window. "That's why he didn't come in." Don and Tony, with Kurt balanced between them, were going down the path.
"Poor fellow."
"He's still a lot of man," Helen remarked, then turned to serve a group that had entered.
"Okay. Unrig the boat and get it put away while I start a fire. It's getting a little cool."
"Aye, aye, sir." Tony tossed Kurt a smart salute and whipped around. "On the double, swabbie!"
"Yes, sir!" Don retorted.
"If you should care to stay, Tony, we're having chowder for supper." Kurt invited.
"Great. I'd like to, if Don will take me back to the station after."
The afternoon before, Erik and Don had taken advantage of the stiff breeze to sail down the sound to a spot one of the local crewmen at the station had told Erik was a good place to dig clams. They had returned at dusk with a bucket full. Erik had filled the bucket with water and added a little cornmeal to let the clams purge. After dinner, Kurt had mixed bread dough and set it aside to rise overnight. With Don's help he had made the chowder and baked the bread that morning.
Don switched on the FM and brought in the tray, setting it on coffee table. The boys sat on the floor by the table with the steaming bowls of chowder and a plate piled with thick slices of bread. Don reached for one eagerly, slathering it with butter before tearing off a large chunk and cramming it in his mouth. He loved the sweetness and faint underlying tang of the sourdough. "Umm. Good."
"You've got that," Tony agreed, reaching for another slice.
They finished the meal with cheese and fruit. Tony's smile flashed as he snatched a sliver of cheese away from Coastie.
"Coastie likes cheese." Don held out a small piece.
"Whose picture you painting?"
"My girl's."
"She's terrific. How'd anybody homely as you land a beautiful girl like that?"
"Charm and good looks."
"Ha! Why don't you introduce me sometime? Afraid of the competition?"
"You had your chance and blew it. She stopped at the station about four weeks ago and you wouldn't tell her where I lived. I guess it was you. She said it was a cute little sailor they asked."
Tony snorted, then got up to look at the photograph she had given Don to go by. "That is her! When I got a look at that guy with her, I thought maybe he was looking to beat up on you for messing around with his girl or something. He's the one who asked."
"That's her brother."
Tony shook his head. "I don't know how you do it. Here I am, young and good looking, and I've tried and tried and haven't gotten a tumble, and a shrimp like you comes along and ties down the best looking chick in this part of the state."
"You weren't doing too bad with Marge."
"Yeah. You saw that ring on her finger, didn't you? She's too old anyway."
"That's the way it is. Some of us have it and some don't."
Tony snatched up a pillow from the sofa and threw it. Don caught it and tossed it back.
"Children," Kurt reproved mockingly.
Don's devotion to Nancy became evident in the fastidious manner in which he painted. Kurt and Erik watched the development of the portrait with interest until Don began to fuss with minute details.
"For heaven's sake, stop before you ruin it. You're going to cut the life out of it," cried Erik in exasperation.
"What do you mean?"
"Just what I said. You'll reduce it to nothing more than a photograph if you keep on like you're going."
Don looked at Kurt for reassurance.
"I agree with Erik. Stop while you're ahead." He walked over to the easel. "It's exactly as it should be."
Don signed the work and dropped the brush in a jar. "I guess you're right. I just want it to be perfect."
"Let Nancy and her brother decide. I prefer it the way it is. When are they coming up for it?"
"I told her they could come during the break."
"Remember, we're going to the station for Thanksgiving and to Mass on Sunday."
"I'll tell her to make it Friday, then. Hey, tomorrow's the last day of classes, isn't it?"
"Right. You've got to hit the books and I've got make-up exams."
"Going to let me see your English exam?"
"Not bloody likely. You're going to sweat it like everyone else."
With the portrait finished, Don threw himself into study. Kurt's only reply to questions about his course was, "Review your notes." Unknown to him, Kurt had used Don's excellent notes as a guide in making up the exam.
Friday morning, Don threw a drop-cloth over the portrait. He wanted to see Nancy's expression on first sight. Earlier in the week, it had taken all his cunning to keep Nancy from suspecting that he had it when he carried it to Mike's office for evaluation. He was delighted with his teacher's praise and the grade he was certain he would get. Fortunately, Nancy had left school immediately after classes and he was able to get it in the Jeep for the trip home to make the few small changes Mike had suggested. Waiting for her, now, he tried to fill the time with study, but his excitement ran too high. He played with Coastie instead, the cat purring with delight at the extra attention. Kurt was coming out of the kitchen when the buzzer went. "I'll get it."
Don jumped up when he heard Nancy's voice. "Why've you got it covered?" She demanded.
"The woman I painted is so ugly I couldn't concentrate on my studying."
"Oh, hush! Do I get to see it?"
Don whipped the drop cloth away. Nancy could only stare while Tommy examined the work carefully.
"I thought Nan was off her rocker when she asked you to paint this. She's right. You're good."
"It's just beautiful, Don. I can't believe I look as pretty as that."
"I told you I painted what I felt rather than what I saw."
"Oh, wow!"
Tommy shook his head. "It'll be impossible to live with her now. It's a shame. She used to be so sweet."
"Oh, shut up, Tommy."
"You think it's all right, then?" Don asked.
"You know it. The folks will be wild about this."
"Trouble is, I'd like to keep it."
"I'll give you a snapshot, Don." Nancy said.
"Great! Don't forget your photo; your mother might miss it."
"She already has," Tommy said. "I told her we broke the glass and were having it replaced. She gave me hell, but seeing this makes it worth it."
"Tommy, we'd better get this home if we want to get it in the house before mom and dad get back from Norfolk."
He nodded. "Yeah. I don't want to get caught carrying it in. You know how curious mother is."
Don wrapped the portrait. After Nancy hugged him, Tommy pressed a cheque in his hand as he said goodbye.