recognizing the voice.
“Are you all right in there?”
She strode to the door, opening it to see Thor Thompson, as expected.
But for once he wasn’t laughing at her; he actually looked concerned.
“Uh, good morning,” she murmured, holding tightly to the door. “Of course I’m all right. Why are you asking?”
He stared at her as if she were suffering from something contagious. She realized she still had seaweed in her hair. Self-consciously, she reached for it.
“You didn’t hear a…racket?” he asked her.
“What?”
He sighed, pointing to the neighboring cottage. “That’s me, next door. It sounded as if something was…clanking over here, and then it sounded like a scream.”
“Clanking?” she repeated blankly.
He shrugged, looking ill at ease. With her—or himself? “Yeah, clanking, clanging…like chains. You can’t mean to tell me you didn’t hear anything?”
“I’m sorry. I must have been sleeping,” she murmured.
“Or swimming.”
“Pardon?”
“Swimming. You’re all wet, and you’re wearing…seaweed.”
“Oh. Well, I like a morning dip now and then.”
“Right,” he murmured, staring at her flatly. “You just wake up, feel the urge and plunge right in? In the dark?”
“Now and then,” she said lightly. I am losing my mind, she thought. But he was the last person in the world with whom she would ever share that information.
“Interesting,” he said. “Well, if you’re sure you’re all right, I’m going back to bed.”
She wasn’t all right at all. But there was no way in hell she was going to tell him so. “I’m fine.” She smiled. “Are you all right? It sounds as if you’re hearing things. You know. I see them, you hear them.”
“Something was making a racket,” he told her flatly.
She shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t me.”
“Couldn’t have been. You were swimming.”
“I was about to make coffee. If you’d like some…?” she added, praying her words were perfectly casual. Indifferent.
Hands on his hips, he looked at her as if she’d just made another entirely insane suggestion, but then he shrugged. “Hell, I guess I’m up for the day.”
He followed her in. She went straight for the coffeemaker and then the sink, filling the pot with water, then setting the premeasured bag into place to brew. He’d taken a seat on the futon that served as the sofa—or guest bed. She realized he was studying her, and she was pretty sure she made an absurd picture, dressed in the long, soaked T-shirt, seaweed still in her hair.
Act like it’s perfectly normal, she warned herself.
“How do you like your coffee?”
“Black.”
“Macho, huh?” she murmured.
“Nope. Best way to learn to drink it when you might be out for a while with milk that goes sour and a crew member who forgot to buy sugar or creamer.”
“Right. Perfectly sensible.”
She sensed his shrug.
“We crazy people like it light,” she murmured.
“Hey, it’s a new day,” he said politely.
The coffeemaker chimed. She poured two cups, handed him one, fixed hers the way she liked it and sat across from him on one of the two wicker chairs that faced the futon.
“I saw something down there,” she said flatly. “Today I’ll figure out for myself what it was—while discovering the first relic.”
“You’re not just going to find it, you’re going to find it today?”
She shrugged nonchalantly.
“And you think I’m arrogant,” he murmured.
She lifted a hand. “When the shoe fits…”
He looked as if he was going to rise. To her deep annoyance, she realized she didn’t want to be alone. “What are they going to talk to us about this morning?” she demanded quickly.
“The usual, I imagine. Stuff we’ve already heard about preserving the reef while we excavate.”
“We’re working as carefully as we can,” she said.
He grinned. “They just want to keep putting in their two cents, that’s all. And I have to hand it to Preston—his research was top-notch, and his logic appears to be the same.”
“I know. I read the letters written by Antoine D’Mas, the pirate who watched the Marie Josephine go down. It all makes sense to me, too.”
“There you go. We agree on something,” he murmured.
They both heard the sound of footsteps pounding on the sand and the knock at the door. “Hey, you up in there?” Bethany called.
Genevieve stood and opened the door. Bethany was ready for the day, it appeared. She was wearing cutoffs over her one-piece Speedo. Her hair was tied back, out of the way.
“Good, you’re up early!” she announced. “I didn’t want to sit around alone any longer. There’s nothing on the TV—hey!” she said suddenly, seeing Thor on the futon.
“Hey yourself,” he greeted her, standing politely.
Bethany suddenly stared at Genevieve, as if really seeing her for the first time. “You’re soaked. And there’s seaweed in your hair. What the hell…?”
Genevieve looked meaningfully at her friend, her back to Thor Thompson. “You know me. I woke up early and just couldn’t resist the lure of the water.”
“By the dock?” Bethany said incredulously.
Genevieve made her stare fiercer. “On the beach side,” she snapped. “I can’t resist the water sometimes, and you know it.”
“Oh. Um. Right,” Bethany murmured.
“Do you want coffee?” Genevieve asked quickly, changing the subject.
“Sure, thanks.”
Bethany plopped down on the futon, where Thor joined her. “You still on for tonight?” she asked.
Genevieve
