Do you remember Brian? He was pretty wild. ”” Your twin, right? ” Brian had slept with Cindy?

“Uh-huh. He slept with her the summer before Shelly was born, and he slept with her that summer, too. I never understood how he could do that, since everyone was so sure Cindy was Shelly’s mother. But his hormones were stronger than his common sense, I guess.”

“I had no idea Brian was seeing Cindy,” Rory said,

trying to think back. He could barely remember what Brian looked like.

“Well, I don’t think what he was doing with her would be described as ‘seeing her.” He was. well, screwing her. ” Jill shrugged.

“That’s about it. You were a few years younger than us, so what was going on probably went right over your head.”

“True,” he said.

“I was only fourteen the summer Daria found Shelly.”

He saw Grace’s car turn into the cul-de-sac, and Jill followed his gaze.

“Your friend is here,” she said, standing up.

Rory was still thinking about Brian and Cindy. “Excuse the rudeness in this question,” he said, “but if Brian slept with Cindy, is there any chance he was the baby’s father?”

“I don’t think so,” Jill said.

“I thought about that myself. But it would have meant that he’d been with Cindy nine months before Shelly was born. That would have been September, which was possible, but unlikely. Besides, Shelly doesn’t look a thing like anyone in our family.”

Grace had pulled her car to the side of the cul-de-sac in front of Poll-Rory. Rory walked with Jill down the front steps to greet her.

“So what is Brian up to these days?” he asked.

Jill laughed.

“He’s a juvenile-court judge,” she said.

“Is that ironic, or what? He’s got three teenage girls, and he’s the strictest parent I know.”

Grace got out of her car, and Rory introduced the two women, then he and Grace went back to his porch, where he had the newspaper with the movie listings. They were about to sit down to peruse them, when Grace pointed toward the beach.

“There’s Shelly,” she said.

Rory turned to see Shelly walking through the sea oats a little east of his cottage, coming up from the beach toward the cul-de-sac. He’d seen her set out for the beach many hours ago, just after lunch. Was this a different walk, or had she actually been out on the beach, walking, all afternoon?

Shelly smiled when she saw them.

“Hi, Rory,” she said.

“Hi, Grace.”

She was wearing a pale blue, one-piece bathing suit, cut high on her legs, the ever-present sack of shells strung loosely around her waist.

“Did you have a good walk?” Grace asked her.

“It’s always good,” Shelly said. She stopped near them.

“I talked to Zack, Rory,” she said.

“I think it’s so cool that you took him hang gliding.”

“It was great,” Rory said.

“We’re going to a movie,” Grace said.

“Would you like to go with us?”

Rory was surprised by the invitation. He wouldn’t mind having Shelly accompany them, but he never would have thought to invite her himself.

This was supposed to be a date. At least, it was a date in his mind.

Perhaps it was not in Grace’s. The thing that irked him the most, though, was that if it had been Zack standing there, talking to them, Grace almost certainly wouldn’t have invited him.

“Oh, no thanks,” Shelly said.

“I’m working on a necklace for Jackie.

Only it’s a surprise from Linda, so don’t say anything. “

“Oh, we won’t,” Grace reassured her. He did not think Grace even knew who Jackie was.

Rory looked at his watch.

“We’d better get going, Grace,” he said.

They said goodbye to Shelly, quickly scanned the movie listings and got into his car. Grace looked across the street at the Sea Shanty, where Shelly was sitting on the front steps, dusting the sand from her feet before going inside.

“She’s so beautiful,” Grace said.

“She could be a model.”

Rory backed the car into the cul-de-sac, then headed toward the beach road.

“I’ve thought the same thing about you,” he said, knowing it would be the first truly personal thing he had said to her.

“What do you mean?” Grace asked.

“That you could be a model. The way you… carry yourself. The way you walk. Not to mention that you’re beautiful.”

He thought he detected some color in Grace’s cheeks.

“No one’s told me that in quite a while,” Grace said.

“Well, it’s the truth.” He was glad he had said it. It seemed like something she needed to hear. Maybe she’d been so reticent in this relationship because she was taking her cue from him. Maybe she was wondering when he was ever going to make a move.

In the theater, he was keenly aware of her presence in the seat next to him. She seemed to contain herself carefully in her chair, however, so that their arms did not touch, and she allowed him to have the armrest between their seats. Halfway through the movie, he dared to take her hand, and she allowed it. Her fingers were cold, and he tried to warm them with his own. The movie was a comedy, light head-candy, but Grace only laughed a couple of times during the entire hour and a half, and Rory thought their taste in comedy was not quite in sync.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asked when they were back in the car.

“Very much,” Grace said, although she hadn’t seemed to. She smiled, though, and her face was so beautiful in the lights from the parking lot that he wanted to kiss her. Now.

He leaned across the console, rested one hand against her cheek and kissed her lightly. She smiled uncertainly, then turned her head before he could kiss her again.

He drew away.

“I think we need to talk,” he said.

She looked down at her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Rory said.

“But I do need to understand why you pull away when I try to get close.”

She looked out the window, drawing in a long breath.

“I’m … not ready,” she said.

“It’s just that I haven’t been out of my marriage all that long. I’m confused about my feelings these days.” She looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“It’s understandable,” Rory said, although he felt the disappointment down to his toes.

“I’d rather you be honest about your feelings than try to pretend that everything’s okay.” He remembered how he’d felt when Glorianne first left him. “Are you hoping to get back together with your husband?” he asked.

“No,” she said firmly.

“That’s over.”

“What happened?” He tried to sound sympathetic rather than curious.

She bit her lip.

“Can’t talk about it,” she said. Even getting those four words out seemed an effort.

He squeezed her shoulder.

“That’s okay,” he said, and he reached for the key in the ignition. “Where shall we go to eat?” he asked as he pulled into the road.

“What do you feel like?”

“I’m really not hungry, Rory,” she said.

“I think I just want to go home. I’m sorry to put a damper on your evening.”

He was disappointed by the sudden change of plans, but he had the feeling she needed a good long cry and didn’t want to do that in front of him. Even Daria had cried in front of him when she told him about the plane crash. Why was it so much easier to talk about difficult topics with a friend than with a potential lover?

“It’s not a problem,” he said.

They were both quiet on the drive to Poll-Rory, and he had a sudden, jarring thought: a mastectomy. Maybe her illness had been breast cancer. That would explain the high-necked bathing suits she wore. It would explain her fear of intimacy. He glanced at her as he drove. Her face was turned away from him, toward the window, and he wished there was something he could say to ease whatever fear and pain existed inside her. But it would have to be her decision to confide in him. He could think of nothing he could do to hasten that process.

Daria looked up from her seat on the rocker as Rory pulled into his driveway. She and Chloe were sitting on the Sea Shanty porch, reading, but now Daria’s attention was fixed on the car across the cul-de-sac.

Rory got out of the driver’s side of the car, and Grace emerged from the passenger side. There was a physical pain in Daria’s chest—a twisting, wrenching feeling. Rory rested his hand on Grace’s back as they walked toward her car at the curb. Grace got into her car, and Rory leaned close to the open window to talk to her, or to kiss her—Daria couldn’t see. Rory stood up from the car and walked into his cottage. The pain in Daria’s chest sharpened, and she knew her feelings for Rory were out of control.

“I’m worried about you.”

Daria jumped at the sound of Chloe’s voice, unaware that her sister had been watching her.

“Why?” she asked.

Chloe rested her book upside down on her knees. “Because of Rory,” she said.

“Because of the way you feel about him.”

“It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Yes, it is. And it’s crazy, Daria. I understand. You’re still reeling from Pete. You’d been with him for six years and you thought you would have married him by now. Of course you’re vulnerable. But infatuation with Rory Taylor is not the answer. It’s got to be taking a toll on you, pining for him every day.”

“I’m not pining,” Daria said.

“You are, too. And it’s pretty obvious he’s interested in Grace. I mean, he cares about you as a friend, same as he did back when you were kids. But his romantic interest is in Grace, Daria. You can see that, can’t you?”

“Of course, I see that. That’s what hurts.”

“You don’t really know him, Daria. He’s not your type. Maybe he was your type when he was ten years old and you were seven. But now… he’s Hollywood, Daria. He’s glitzy.”