“Glitzy?” Daria laughed, but the sound was weak.

“That’s not a word I’d use to describe him. He’s very down-to-earth.”

“You’re seeing him here, in Kill Devil Hills, so, of course, he seems down-to-earth. But watch the reruns of True Life Stories. Tell me then that he’s down-to-earth.”

She had watched the summer reruns, just as she’d watched the original shows during the rest of the year, and he was the most down-to-earth the host of a TV show could be. But she could see no point in arguing that with Chloe.

“I really just want a friendship with him,” Daria said, more to convince herself than Chloe.

“Bullshit,” Chloe said in her sometimes-I just-can’t soundlikea-nun voice.

“You’re tied up in knots over him. And even if he did give you some hint that he might be interested in you that way, he’s leaving at the end of the summer. He’s a California boy.”

Daria didn’t answer. She didn’t want to fight about this, because she was afraid she would lose and that Chloe was right. She opened her book again, and Chloe did the same, but Daria’s thoughts were still on the cottage across the cul-de-sac. She had tried not to think about the end of the summer. She couldn’t bear the thought of Poll-Rory being | home again to a string of weekend renters, then finally‘1 standing cold and vacant, while she and Shelly had the;

winter cul-de-sac entirely to themselves once more.

Vy/io? was she going to do about Rory?

Grace drove through the darkness toward Rodanthe, that one thought blocking all others from her mind. She had never treated anyone this way before. Never used another person for her own gain. It had gotten out of hand, and she didn’t know how to fix it. She was driven to see him. but only because it put her so close to Shelly.

Shelly was stunning! She had been an ethereal vision, walking through those sea oats, golden in the early-evening light. She looked so healthy, and Grace clung to that reassuring fact. But Pamela had looked healthy, too. She wished Shelly was not constantly taking those solo walks on the beach. How quickly did she walk? How strenuously?

Shelly was tall and lithe, just like Grace had been at that age. She had the body and the presence of a model. She remembered what Rory had said: Grace looked like a model, too.

Oh, Rory, she thought, if only you knew.

She’d first heard those words when she was sixteen years old. She’d been walking alone through the shopping center where she and her best friend, Bonnie, had after-school jobs, when a man suddenly stepped in front of her. She’d had to stop short to avoid running into him. He was probably her mother’s age, maybe a little older. He had silver hair, but his face was relatively unlined and his blue eyes smiled at her. For someone his age, he was very handsome.

He apologized for disturbing her, then told her his name was Brad Chappelle and he ran a modeling agency.

“I’m walking through the shopping center today, looking for girls who might be model material,” he said.

“And I have to tell you that you are the most beautiful girl I’ve stumbled across in my search so far this year.”

Already shy. Grace could think of nothing to say in response to such an effusive compliment, and the man continued talking.

“You’ll have to get some photographs taken for a portfolio,” he said, “and then you’ll have to go through the training program at my agency.

It will cost you some money, but you’ll easily make ten times that in your first year as a model. I can practically guarantee it. “

He wanted money. Was that was this was about? Some sort of scheme?

“I really don’t have any money,” she said.

He studied her for a moment.

“Well, in your case, if you can spring for the photographs, I’ll cover the training program for you,” he said.

“I think you’ll be a good investment.”

He told her she would need her mother’s permission to take classes at the agency, and Grace thought that would be a major stumbling block.

Her mother always seemed to view Grace as more of a liability than an asset, and she was indeed resistant to the idea—at first. Once Brad talked to her about Grace’s earning potential, though, she readily gave her permission.

Getting pictures taken for her initial portfolio turned out to be one of the most awkward afternoons of Grace’s life as she tried unsuccessfully to relax in front of the camera. The photographer was nice about it, telling her how much more confident she would feel after taking Brad’s modeling course.

She loved the classes at the agency right from the start. Since grade school, she had been teased about her height and her thin form. Now, her height, her slender body, her high cheekbones were the envy of other girls, and she found herself walking tall. She knew she was Brad’s favorite among his students, and she felt his eyes on her as she moved through the class. Admiration was in his face, and after the fourth or fifth class, he told her that she had a natural ability in addition to her beauty. Grace overheard one of the more experienced models say that Brad was grooming her for the big time.

Her first real assignment came that summer, at a fashion show at Beck’s, a local department store. Brad invited her mother as his special guest, which told everyone who hadn’t already figured it out that Grace was his pet. It was the first time her mother had seen her model, and the show went spectacularly well. Grace’s mother could not mask her pride at seeing her daughter, a changed young woman, on the runway. Grace was no longer painfully shy; she no longer walked hunched over to mask her height.

After that show. Grace’s mother began buying fashion magazines. She’d point to pictures in the magazine and hold them out in front of Grace. “Maybe you should have your hair cut like this girl’s,” she would say. Or, “If you’d do those leg lifts, you’d get a better rear end for those clothes you have to wear.” Grace’s mother and Brad conspired to persuade her to quit high school and focus entirely on her career, but Grace refused. She loved modeling, but she was beginning to envy her classmates’ normal lives as they entered their senior year. Bonnie was still her best friend, but things had changed. Bonnie had met a boy over the summer, and she usually had a date on Saturday nights. Grace often worked on Saturdays and was too tired to go out when evening rolled around. Not that anyone was asking her out, anyway.

As she was drawn deeper into her modeling career and became aware of the life-style Brad’s more experienced models were living, Grace grew uncomfortable. Most of the other models were older and out of school.

Drugs were rampant, and although she didn’t think Brad used drugs himself, he turned a blind eye to whatever his girls were doing to get themselves through their grueling schedules. There were more and more fashion shows out of town, and Grace had little choice but to skip school in order to take those jobs.

Her relationship with Brad was gradually changing. While the other models might be driven to shows in Washington or Philadelphia in a specially equipped van, Brad often asked Grace to ride with him in his car. At first, she thought this was because he knew she didn’t fit in with the other girls and that she felt awkward with them. But she began to realize that he no longer thought of her as simply one of his blossoming models. She would catch him staring at her when she was doing nothing more than putting on her makeup or eating her dinner of fish and vegetables. He hugged her often. He hugged the other girls, as well, but she knew there was something different in the way he touched her.

One night, while driving back from a fashion show in Washington, he was uncharacteristically quiet in the car. She was tired, so she didn’t mind. Resting her head against the car window, she had nearly dozed off when his voice broke the silence.

“I know this is crazy,” he said, his gaze fixed out the front window of the car, “and I have no idea how you’ll react to this, but… I’ve wanted to tell you something for a while now.”

She turned her head in his direction, waiting.

He glanced at her, and for the first time since she’d known him, he looked unsure of himself.

“I’ve fallen in love with you,” he said.

The words stunned her. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She had no idea how to respond.

“I know, I know,” he said hurriedly.

“I’m old enough to be your father. And believe me, I’ve been fighting the feelings. But I can’t help myself. I’ve been attracted to you from the very beginning, and you’ve just become more… appealing to me as you’ve matured and grown as a model. You project this… savvy innocence. It’s irresistible, Grace.”

She couldn’t help being nattered that a man like Brad Chappelle was interested in her, but she still felt shocked by his admission.

“Say something. Grace,” he said. His voice was almost pleading.

“I’m very grateful for what you’ve done for me,” she said slowly.

“And… I do love you, Brad.” She did. He was the dearest man she’d ever known. He’d become like a father to her, and more. But she knew that would not be the best thing to say right now.

“I’m not in love with you, though. I’ve never thought of you that way.” She had to be honest with him. He was handsome, kind and generous, but nothing could change his age.

Brad sighed.

“See what I mean?” he asked.

“Any of the other girls would have said, job, I love you, too, Brad,” just to stay on my good side. But not you. I knew I could trust you to tell me how you’re really feeling. I certainly won’t push you. Grace. But I want you to know how I feel, in case that makes a difference to you. In case you might just possibly start looking at me. ‘that way,” as you say.”