“That’s why they like, all have to pass out after lunch,” teases Yardley. “You come into Goose, and Pfeff’s like, snoring on the couch. Major’s asleep in the lounge chair. And George is facedown on the bed with his shoes still on.”
“I sleep very cutely,” says George. “It’s a documented fact. So there’s nothing to make fun of.”
“You could come tomorrow,” says Pfeff, to me. He turns and looks at me hopefully. “It would be fun to have you.” He smiles and I can’t take my eyes from the soft curve of his lower lip.
“You could, too,” Major says to Penny and Erin. They have just joined us after their “walk-and-talk.”
“Ugh, early morning anything is not my idea of fun,” says Erin.
I don’t like Pfeff, but I want to kiss him again. I want to feel clever and impressive, to stroke my fingers along his warm neck. I remember the healing thrill of his kiss, like cold water and raspberries, dispelling the taint of my malformed, infected jaw. I’d like to feel that again.
He’s just said he wants me there, in the early morning. Me, especially.
“I’ll go,” I say. “What the hell. Tell me what time.”
34.
IT IS 6:15 a.m. No one is awake in Goose Cottage.
I call hello, but there is no answer.
I have already had coffee with my mother and Luda, but still, I put on the coffee maker in the guesthouse, mostly to have something to do.
I feel young and overeager, being there on time. Maybe they didn’t mean today.
The coffee machine finishes its cycle. I pour some into a mug and add milk and sugar. I skim a newspaper from four days ago.
Eventually, Pfeff wanders in, shirtless, rubbing his eyes like a child. His pajama bottoms are low on his hips. “Hey, Carrie. Morning,” he says. “Oooh, coffee. I’m so happy now. Did you make it?”
“Yah-huh.”
“That’s big-time excellent.”
I can’t stop looking at him. I hate him, but I also wish he’d just come close to me, lean in and touch my hair. Maybe he’d whisper, “Can I kiss you? I really want to kiss you,” and I’d kiss him for an answer. I could run my hands down his strong back and touch his gently freckled shoulders. I’d feel his lips on mine, so gentle but also urgent, and he’d taste of black coffee.
I could go to him, I think, shaking myself. I don’t have to wait.
But I cannot tell how he’d respond.
Maybe he’s with Sybelle, wrapped up in the drama of their reunion.
Maybe he thinks I’m just a kid, a foolish girl who threw a tantrum over nothing, over a short wait.
Maybe he didn’t like kissing me at all.
So I do nothing.
I don’t stare at
his naked chest or
his strong hands around the coffee cup. I don’t look at his cheekbones outlined in morning sunlight or
the way the muscles of his shoulders ripple when he pulls open the fridge.
I pay no attention to
the way he folds a piece of toast around a hunk of cheese and eats it hungrily, how he likes to lift his coffee cup with both hands, how he sucks his finger when he burns his hand on his second piece of toast.
No attention.
* * *
—
THE EARLY MORNING boat excursion ends up being just me, Pfeff, Major—and Penny, who turns up on the dock at the last minute, holding a warm strawberry sheet cake with a tea towel and wearing a bikini and an old plaid flannel shirt that belongs to Harris.
“Erin wouldn’t get up,” she says. “Lazy wench.”
“Is that cake?” asks Major.
“It’s just out of the oven,” says Penny. “I might have stolen it.”
“Doesn’t Tipper want that for after supper?” I ask.
“I dunno,” says Penny, shrugging. “She wasn’t in the kitchen.”
We motor out, Pfeff driving. The boys have towels and thermoses. Penny and I share my thermos of coffee. Or rather, she takes it from me without asking, drinks half of it, and sets it down between her feet.
When we get out a ways, Pfeff cuts the motor. “This is it,” he says.
And we sit. Feeling the glow of the early sun. Watching some seagulls overhead. Beechwood seems far away.
“It’s kinda boring,” says Penny, after a few minutes.
“Well,” says Major. “It helps when you’re high.”
Penny slaps his leg. “Are you high?” she says. “Like right now, before breakfast?”
“Maybe,” says Major, laughing.
“Just a little,” says Pfeff. “To better appreciate nature.”