CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
VACATION. LAUREL COULD SCENT IT, NEARLY TOUCH IT. SHE WOULD be on it if this damn event would ever end.
Sunday afternoon events tended toward smaller affairs. Sophisticated or casual, fussy or freewheeling, weddings or anniversary parties booked on a Sunday afternoon leaned toward a pretty brunch or an elegant tea, most often ending early enough for guests to go home, maybe catch a ball game or a movie.
But not this one. Not the last event before the glories and raptures of vacation began. At four on Sunday afternoon, the Ballroom rocked. Champagne flowed. The bride and groom—second-timearounders in their early forties, danced to the oldies the DJ spun like a couple of teenagers on spring break.
“Why don’t they want to go home and have sex?” Laurel muttered to Emma.
“They’ve been together for three years—over a year of that living together. They probably have sex whenever they want.”
“But it’s Wedding Day sex, and they can only have Wedding Day sex today. At midnight, that ship has sailed. They should want it. Maybe we need to mention it.”
Emma patted Laurel’s shoulder. “Tempting—boy, tempting. But we have to stick it out until five.” She snuck a glance at her watch.
“You have a Tinker Bell Band-Aid on your finger.”
“Isn’t she cute? It almost makes up for daydreaming about vacation and nicking myself a good one. Anyway, forty-nine more minutes by my clock. Then it’s two weeks, Laurel. Fourteen beachy days.”
“It makes my eyes sting when I think of it. But if I start crying, people will just think I’m touched by the wedding, so that’s okay.” She had to order herself not to shift impatiently from foot to foot. “We’re all packed.” She narrowed her eyes at Emma.
“I’m packed. I’m packed.”
“Okay then. So in forty-nine minutes we load up the cars. I figure you have to allow twenty minutes for load-up because of the beach gear and the arguing. That’s sixty-nine minutes. Another ten for Parker to check and recheck her lists. Seventy-nine minutes and we’re on the road. Vacation begins the minute you’re on the road.”
“It does.” Emma smiled at a small group of guests on their way to the bar. “Seventy-eight now. And a couple hours later, we’re drinking frozen margaritas on the beach. Del’s going to have margaritas ready, right?”
“He’d better, seeing as he’s already on the beach.”
“Well, somebody had to go up, open the house, get supplies, make sure everything’s set up.”
“Yeah. He’s probably kicked back with a beer now, but I’m trying not to resent that. It’s okay because in a hundred and ninety-eight minutes, give or take a few, we’ll be there, too. Damn, we have to change—add twenty more minutes. Two hundred and eighteen—”
“Seventeen,” Emma interrupted. “Not that we’re watching the clock or anything.”
“We’ll be sipping those margaritas, and our biggest worry will be what to have for dinner.” She gave Parker’s arm a pinch when Parker walked over.
“Ow.”
“Just making sure none of us are dreaming. We’re having a private countdown. Two hundred and seventeen minutes till margaritas on the beach.”
“Two hundred and seventy-seven. They just asked for the extra hour.”
Emma’s big brown eyes went sad as a hungry puppy’s. “Oh, Parker.”
“I know, I know. But it’s their option, their money, and we can’t say no.”
“There could be a bomb threat by an anonymous caller. Just a suggestion,” Laurel said when Parker gave her a bland stare. “I’m going to start transferring the gifts to the limo. It’ll pass the time. If you need me, beep me.”
It kept her busy, supervising the transfer, carting gifts out herself. Afterward, she made a trip up to the Bride’s and Groom’s suites to make sure they’d been put to rights, then headed down to her kitchen for the boxes needed for leftover cake and desserts.
“Two hundred and twenty-nine minutes,” she told herself.
At six sharp, she stood with her partners, with Jack and Carter, waving off the newlyweds and the stragglers.
“Go away now,” she said under her breath. “Bye-bye. Keep driving.”
“Somebody out there might read lips,” Jack commented.
“Don’t care.” But she gripped his arm and angled herself slightly behind him. “Go home. Go away. Okay, there’s the last ones. Why are they standing there talking? They’ve had hours to talk already. Yes, yes, hug, hug, kiss, kiss, go, for pity’s sake.”
“They’re getting in their cars,” Mac said from behind her. “It’s happening. Starting the cars, backing out. And they’re driving, they’re driving.” She clamped her hands on Laurel’s shoulders. “Almost to the road, almost there, nearly clear, and ...Yes!”
“Vacation!” Laurel shouted. “Everybody scatter, get your stuff.” She dashed inside and up the stairs.
Within fifteen minutes, dressed in cropped pants, a tank, a straw hat on her head and sandals on her feet, she dragged her bags downstairs. Then frowned at Parker.
“How could you be faster than me? How could you? I was like the wind. I was a freaking tornado of speed and efficiency.”
“My talents are many. I’ll bring the car around.”
Mrs. Grady wandered out while they loaded up, and put an insulated bag in the car. “Road supplies,” she said. “Cold water, some fruit, cheese, and crackers.”
“You’re the best.” Laurel turned to give her a squeeze. “Change your mind, come with us.”
“Not on your life. Two weeks of quiet right here will suit me.” With her arm slung around Laurel’s shoulders, she studied Parker. “Don’t the pair of you look ready? Pretty as they come, too.”
“Beach girls of Southampton,” Parker said and did a stylish turn. “We’ll miss you.”
“You won’t.” Mrs. Grady smiled as Parker kissed her cheek. “But you’ll be glad to see me when you get back. Here comes the next group.” She jutted her chin as Mac and Carter pulled up behind Parker’s car. “You see she doesn’t forget to slather on plenty of sunscreen,” she told Carter. “Our redhead fries like an egg.”
“We’re stocked.”
She handed him an insulated bag. “Road food.”
“Thanks.”
“Emma’s late, naturally.” Parker checked her watch. “Carter, you’re in the middle of the convoy so you don’t fall behind.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“You have the directions on your GPS, in case?”
“We’re good. We’re ready.” Mac adjusted the brim of her ball cap. “We’re set.”
“It’s about a two hour and ten minute drive,” Parker began. Laurel tuned her out and stared in the direction of Emma’s house as if to will her friend to hurry with the power of her mind.
“It worked! Here she comes. Bye, Mrs. G. If you get lonely, drive over.”
“Not likely.”
“No wild parties.” Sober-faced, Parker put her hands on Mrs. G’s shoulders. “No boys sleeping over. No drugs. No drinking.”
“That doesn’t leave me much, does it?” With a laugh, Mrs. Grady gave her a last farewell hug, and muttered in her ear. “Don’t be such a good girl. Have fun.”
“Fun is the first item on my list.”
Laurel climbed in the car as Mrs. Grady passed the last bag of road food to Emma, as more hugs were exchanged. Laurel indulged in a quick bounce on the seat when Parker got behind the wheel.
“This is it.”
“This, my friend, is it.” Parker started the car, engaged the GPS. “Roll ’em out.”
Laurel let out a yee-haw as they headed up the drive. “I can already feel the sand in my shoes, the salty breeze in my hair. You must be dying to get there.You own the place, and you haven’t seen it yet.”
“Co-own. I’ve seen plenty of pictures, from the Realtor and some that Del took.”
“I can’t believe you, of all people, furnished the place by phone and online.”
“No other way to do it. No time to go there. Anyway, it’s an efficient way to shop, especially for what’s primarily an investment. We bought some of the furnishings already in place as the previous owners didn’t want to move most of it. Lots of fussy stuff to see to yet. It’ll be fun to pick up little things, or decide to have something repainted.”
“What do you want to do, first thing, when you wake up tomorrow morning?”
“Try out the gym, then take a walk on the beach with a huge cup of coffee. Or, depending, skip the gym for a run on the beach. Run. On.The. Beach.”
“And without your BlackBerry.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far. I could go into withdrawal. What about you? First thing.”
“That’s the beauty. I don’t know. I have no idea what I want to do, or what I will do. Mac will start taking pictures. Emma’s going to plop herself on the beach and stare at the water while she makes happy noises. And you, admit it, will make sure to check your laptop and phone for messages right after the workout and the walk. Or after the run.”
Parker lifted her shoulders then dropped them. “Probably, but then I plan to do a lot of staring and making happy noises.”
“And start a list of what you want to change or add to the house.”
“We all vacate in our own way.”
“Yeah, we do. And thanks in advance.”
“For what?”
“For the two weeks in a beach house in Southampton. Yes, partners and pals, but you could’ve said you wanted a couple weeks to yourself.”
“What would I do without you?”
“There’s a question we’ve never had to answer.” She opened the bag, took out the bottled water. She uncapped them both, set Parker’s in the drink cup, tapped it with her bottle. “To us. Beach girls of Southampton.”
“Absolutely.”
“Tunes?”
“Unquestionably.”
Laurel switched on the radio.
Everything changed when they cut east of New York and started across the skinny island. She lowered the window, leaned out. “I think I can smell the water. Sort of.”
“More than halfway there.” Parker bit into an apple slice. “You should call Del, give him our ETA.”
“Good idea, because I’m going to be starving when we finally get there, and jonesing for a margarita. Should I tell him to fire up the grill? Is there a grill?”
“Del co-owns the house, Laurel.”
“Of course there’s a grill. Burgers, chicken, or steak?”
“You know what, first night of vacation. A really big, fat steak.”
“I’ll put in the order.” She took out her phone, hit Del’s number.
“Hi. Where are you?”
She looked at the GPS screen, gave him their location.
“Hit some traffic?”
“No, work. We put on such a good event, they added an hour. But we’re making good time. Parker made Carter drive in the middle so he’s squeezed between us and Jack and has to keep up. We’d like to place an order for many frozen margaritas and big fat steaks.”
“We’re happy to serve you. Hey, listen.”
In a moment she heard the whooshing sound. “It’s the ocean! Parker, listen.” She held the phone to her friend’s ear. “It’s our ocean. Are you on the beach?” she demanded when she had Del back.
“Just walked down.”
“Have fun, but not too much fun until we get there.”
“I’ll pace myself. Oh, hey, do you know if Mal got off?”
“No. Is he coming in tonight?”
“He wasn’t sure. I’ll give him a call. See you soon.”
“Can’t wait.” She closed the phone. “Mal might be coming in tonight.”
“Lovely.”
“He’s okay, Parker.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t. I haven’t adjusted to the change in our group dynamic.”
“Plus, he’s got that kind of look in his eye that says: How about it, sister?”
“Yes!” Parker took her hand off the wheel to point at Laurel. “Exactly. I don’t like it. It’s a kind of sexual swagger.”
“Yeah, but it’s honest. Remember that guy you went out with a couple times. Geoffrey—spelled the Brit way—wine baron or something.”
“He had an interest in a few vineyards.”
“And spoke fluent French and Italian, knew about cinema as opposed to movies, skied in San Moritz. He turned out to be a complete sleaze, total sexist asshole under all that culture and polish.”
“God, he really did.” The memory had Parker shaking her head and sighing. “I can usually spot them, but he slipped right under the radar. Look.”
Laurel turned her head and got the first glimpse of the ocean. “There it is,” she murmured. “It’s real. We’re so damn lucky, Parker.”
She thought the same thing again, with a whip of stupefaction when she got her first glimpse of the house.
“That?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“That’s your beach house? It’s a beach mansion, Parker.”
“It’s big, but there are a lot of us.”
“It’s gorgeous. It looks like it’s been there forever, perfect for the spot, and still kinda sleek and new.”
“It is gorgeous,” Parker agreed. “I hoped it would be, that it wasn’t just the pictures. And it’s so private. Oh, and look at the sand and the water, and the pond and everything!”
Together they studied the rooflines, the long span of windows, the charm of decks, the fancy of the cupolas.
She spotted a tennis court, a swimming pool as Parker followed the private drive to the front of the house.
Laurel realized it was moments like this that reminded her Del and Parker weren’t rich. They were wealthy.
“I love the angles of it,” Laurel said. “You’ll be able to see the water—ocean or pond—from any room.”
“It’s partially on a preserve. Del and I wanted to be a part of that. Keeping it pristine, protecting it. He found it, and it’s just exactly right.”
“I can’t wait to see the rest.” Even as she spoke, Del stepped out on the front deck, and started down. And for that moment, she forgot the rest.
He looked so relaxed—khakis, tee, bare feet. The sunglasses couldn’t disguise the pleasure on his face.
She got out first, and he held out a hand for hers as he walked to her. “There you are,” he said and gave her an easy greeting kiss.
“Nice little beach shack.”
“I thought so.”
Parker stepped out, took a long look at the house, turned, took another at the water, the views. Nodded. “Good job.”
He lifted his arm, so she went over to slide under it, and for a moment the three of them stood, the breeze wafting and the house spread out before them.
“I think it’ll do,” Del decided.
The others arrived, and with them noise, movement, choruses of approval and curiosity as they started unloading the cars and hauling luggage and supplies.
The impressions came fast—sun and space, glossy wood, soft colors. Out of every window stretched water and sand, solitude and sanctuary, the offer of a spot to sit or a path to wander.
High ceilings and the easy, open flow from one room to the next added an appealing touch of the casual to the simple elegance of furnishings. A place, Laurel thought, you’d be comfortable with your feet up, or sipping champagne in formal wear.
The Browns, she admitted, simply had a way.
The kitchen brought her an instant surge of pleasure with its acres of straw-colored counters. The textured glass cabinet doors showcased cheerful Fiestaware in a celebration of mixed colors and the sparkle of stemware. Opening the pot drawers she hummed her approval of the selection of pots and pans. Surrounding the sinks, the tall, bowing windows opened the room to the beach and the crash of waves.
Even as she took stock she heard Jack let out a crow. “Pinball!”
Which meant there was likely a game room somewhere, but at the moment, she was more interested in the kitchen, the airy dining area, the proximity to the deck for outdoor eating.
Del passed her an icy margarita. “As promised.”
“Oh boy.” She took the first frosty sip. “It’s officially vacation.”
“I staked out a bedroom. Do you want to see it?”
“Absolutely. Del, this place is ... a lot more than I had in my head.”
“In a good way?”
“In an ‘I’m stupefied’ way.”
She peered into rooms as they passed. Sunroom, what she supposed was a morning room, living room, powder rooms. Then up the bare wood steps to the second floor into a bedroom with a wall of windows facing the ocean. She instantly imagined herself lazily lounging in the iron bed with its open canopy and crisp white bedding. Gauzy curtains fluttered in the breeze in the doors he’d opened to the deck.
“It’s beautiful. Just beautiful. And listen.” She closed her eyes and let the rolling whoosh of the ocean wash over her.
“Check this out.”
He gestured, and she walked into the bath.
“Okay” She laid a hand on his arm, patted it several times. “Okay. I may live right here. I may never come out of this room.”
The huge tub reigned in front of another wall of windows and on tiles the color of golden sand. Through clear glass she admired the shower with its multiple heads and body jets, its marble bench.
“Steam shower,” he told her, and she nearly whimpered.
Generous bowls the color and shape of scallop shells served as sinks. The wall at the foot of the tub boasted a little gas fireplace and a flat screen TV so her imagination shifted from lazy lounging in the bed to lazy lounging in bubbling water.
Mirrored cabinets reflected the tile, the shine of the fixtures, the expanse of counters, the pretty watercolors arranged on the walls.
“This bathroom’s bigger than my first apartment.”
Mac rushed in, wild-eyed, arms waving. “The bathroom, the bathroom. It’s ... Wow, look at this one. Never mind. The bathroom!” she said again and rushed out as she’d rushed in.
“I think you have a solid hit,” Laurel told Del.
Within the hour, the grill smoked and the entire group gathered on the deck. Or Laurel assumed the entire group until she glanced around.
“Where’s Parker?”
“Taking a solo tour.” Emma sighed, sipped her slushy drink. “Making notes.”
“I wouldn’t change a thing.” Behind her enormous sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat, Mac wiggled bare toes. “Not one thing. I wouldn’t move from this spot for the next two weeks except there are so many other incredibly cool spots I need to be lazy in.”
“We need to check out the beach.” Jack took Emma’s hand to kiss.
“We definitely do.”
“It’s a great area for bird-watching,” Carter said. “I spotted a Cory’s Shearwater when I walked down earlier. And ...” He trailed off, flushed a little. “Geek alert.”
“I like birds,” Emma said, and reached over to pat his hand. “I’m going to give you some help with dinner any minute now, Del.”
“I’ve got it.” Laurel pushed herself up. “That way, one of the pair of you takes it next time we want dinner in. I’ll go throw something together to go with the steaks.”
Besides, she wanted to play in the kitchen.
Parker came in as Laurel tossed chunks of steamed new potatoes in butter, garlic, and dill.
“Need a hand?”
“Under control. Del must’ve hit a farmer’s market on the way in. Pretty smart of him.”
“He’s pretty smart.” Parker did another scan as she spoke. “I’m already in love with this place.”
“God, me, too. The views, the air, the sounds. And the house itself—it’s incredible. How much will you change?”
“Not much. Tweak more than change.” She walked to a window. Voices and laughter floated in on the breeze. “That’s a good sound. I bet it’s beautiful here, even in the winter.”
“You read my mind. I was thinking how we almost always have that slow period, a week or so after the holidays.”
“Yeah, I had that thought. Maybe. Del looks so happy. Part of that’s you.”
Laurel’s hands stilled. “Do you think?”
“Yes, I do. And I’m standing here watching him man the grill while you put things together in here. It’s nice.” She glanced back. “It makes me happy, Laurel, the same way hearing the voices carry inside makes me happy.”
“I feel the same way.”
“Good. It’s good from someone who loves you both. So.” She turned back from the window. “Are we eating in or out?”
“An evening like this? Out, definitely.”
“I’ll start setting the table.”
Later, they walked off the meal along the beach, wading in the surf, watching the lights of faraway ships that cruised through the night. As the air cooled, Laurel gave some thought to a long bath in the flicker of the fireplace.
But the challenge went out; the game room called. The quiet flipped into the arcade cacophony of pings and whistles.
Jack and Del battled in what looked like a pinball death match when she decided she had to throw in the towel. She left them to it to wander back to the bedroom, and indulged in that long soak. When she’d slipped on a nightshirt to step out on the deck, she realized she hadn’t looked at her watch in hours.
Now that was vacation.
“I wondered where you’d gone off to.”
She glanced back at Del. “I have to get in some serious practice before I take on you or Jack. I had the most incredible bath, in firelight while I looked out at the ocean. I feel like the heroine of my own novel.”
“If I’d known, I’d have taken one with you, and we’d have written a love scene.” He put his arms around her so her head rested on his shoulder. “Good day?”
“Pretty much the best. This place, these views, this air, good friends.”
“As soon as I saw it, I knew. This is what we need.”
Not I need, she noted. Not Del. Del was wired for we.
“I never asked Parker, but I always wondered why the two of you sold the house in East Hampton.”
“We could never sell the house in Greenwich—our house. It’s home. But the other ... We both knew we could never unwind there or enjoy it. Remembering Mom and Dad at home, that’s ... important and there’s some comfort in it. But the place we had at the beach? We just couldn’t go there anymore. This place is new, and we’ll make other memories here.”
“And you needed to wait to do it. A little time and space first.”
“I guess we did. This is a good place, and it feels like the right time.”
“She loves it already. I know that matters to you. She told me, but even if she hadn’t, I could see it. We all do. So thanks for finding the right place and the right time.”
“You’re welcome.” He pressed his lips to the side of her neck. “You smell really good,” he murmured.
“I feel really good, too.” She smiled when his hand stroked down her back. “See?” She tipped up her face, brushed her lips over his. “I think we should write that love scene.”
“Good idea.”With a flourish, he swept her up into his arms. “I think we should open it like this.”
“It’s a classic for a reason.”
THERE MIGHT HAVE BEEN A MORE PERFECT SPOT AND A MORE PERFECT time and a more perfect mood, but Laurel couldn’t imagine it. Her stubborn internal clock woke her before dawn, but she snuggled into the luxury of knowing she didn’t have to roll out, but could stay just as she was, curled up with Del with the sound of the sea serenading.
She drifted in and out for a time, and even that was perfect. As was the sunrise over the water to the east. She thought it spread its pinks and gold just for her as she stood on the deck with the filmy curtains fluttering behind her.
Inspired, she tugged on a tank and shorts, then jogged down the outside steps. Parker stood at the base, in a tank and shorts, her deep brown hair caught back in a long tail under a sassy white cap.
“You’re up, too.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Laurel lifted her hands. “What’s wrong with us?”
“Not a thing. Everyone else is sleeping through vacation. We’re wringing every drop out of it.”
“Damn right. That beach calls for a run, as previously discussed.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
They warmed up on the walkway, then set off at an easy pace on the sand. They didn’t need to talk, but simply matched gaits, followed the shoreline with the surf foaming beside them.
Birds took wing or strutted in the foam. Carter would likely know what they were, Laurel thought, but it was enough just to have them there, soaring, calling, pecking while the rising sun sparkled on the water.
When they turned back, they kept up the same steady pace until the house came into view again. Laurel reached over to touch Parker’s arm as she slowed.
“Just look at it. That’s where we’re going.”
“Don’t hate me, but it makes me think, wow, what a fabulous place for casual beach weddings.”
“I may have to hurt you.”
“I can’t help it. It is a fabulous place.”
“How many calls have you taken since we got here?”
“Only two. Okay three, but all easily handled. And I got a sunrise run on the beach and am now seriously jonesing for coffee. In fact ... last one there makes it.”
She took off in a sprint. Laurel was quick off the mark, but she already knew she’d be making the coffee. Parker ran like a damn cheetah.
Once she made the deck, she leaned over, hands on knees to catch her breath. “I was going to make the coffee anyway.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I hate that you’re barely winded, but I’ll still make the coffee, and egg-white omelettes.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m in the mood.”
The others wandered down, probably lured by the scent of coffee and the music Parker turned on low.
Del leaned on the counter, shoving fingers through his sleep-tousled hair. “Why aren’t you still in bed with me?”
“Because I’ve already had a three-mile run on the beach, and my first cup of coffee.” She handed him one. “Shortly I’m having breakfast, which you can benefit by as I’m feeling generous.”
He gulped down coffee. “Okay,” he said and walked out onto the deck to flop into a chaise.
Emma stopped slicing fruit to roll her eyes in a look that clearly said: men.
“He gets away with it today because I’m in a very good mood.” She paused at the sound of an engine, shifted closer to the window. “Who could that be?”
Outside, Parker set a pitcher of juice on the table then glanced down to see Malcolm Kavanaugh remove his helmet. He gave his hair a shake as he swung off the motorcycle. “Nice little place you’ve got here,” he called up to Del, then headed up the stairs. He shot Parker a quick grin. “How’s it going, Legs? Looks like I’m in time for breakfast.”
He slid into the group, Laurel thought later. Parker might find him a little irritating, but he did slide in. By midmorning, they’d staked their territory on the beach with folding chairs, blankets, umbrellas, coolers. The air smelled of sea and sunscreen.
She’d nearly dozed off over her book, when Del plucked her bodily out of her chair.
“What? Cut it out.”
“Time for a dip.”
“If I want a dip, I’ll use the pool. Stop it!”
“Can’t come to the seashore without getting in the sea.” He waded right in with her over his shoulder, then tossed her.
She managed one short curse, then held her breath.
The cool water closed over her head, and she felt sand swim in every-damn-where as she pushed herself up. When she blinked the salt water out of her eyes, she saw him standing about waist high and grinning.
“Damn it, Del. It’s cold.”
“Refreshing,” he corrected, and dived under an oncoming wave. She, of course, didn’t see it coming. Knocked down, breathless, carrying yet more sand, she started to push up again, as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“You’re so pushy, Brown.”
“Got you in, didn’t I?”
“I like to look at the ocean, swim in a pool.”
“We don’t have an ocean at home,” he pointed out. “Here comes another one.”
At least she was prepared this time, rolled with the wave—and had the satisfaction of shoving him under. He only surfaced laughing. Since she was wet, sandy, and covered with salt, she struck off to swim past the breakers. As her skin and muscles warmed, she had to admit Del had a point.
They didn’t have an ocean at home.
She dived under again, just for the pleasure of it. And once more, his hands closed around her waist.
“That’s far enough out.”
“Pushy,” she said again.
“Maybe.” But he wrapped around her so they bobbed. She felt him take a few strong kicks to bring them closer to shore. What the hell, she decided, and, relaxing against him, let him do the work.
She watched her friends, on shore and sea, listened to the sounds of voices, of surf, of music.
“I could get myself back to the beach,” she told him. “Like I could’ve gotten myself in the water in the first place if I’d wanted to.”
“Yeah, but then I couldn’t do this.” He shifted her, took her mouth as the water rocked them.
Once again she was forced to admit he had a point.