She returned the way she’d come and grabbed her handbag as she headed out the door. As she got in her car, she let out a deep breath, wondering what was going to happen next.

Tru wasn’t sure what Hope had done.

He’d seen her emerge onto the back deck, maybe forty minutes after she’d returned from her walk with Scottie, and then make her way to the house where he was staying. He felt a pang of disappointment at the thought that she’d gone to see him when he wasn’t there, but at the gate, she’d stopped. He supposed she might have been debating whether or not to proceed to the back door, but she was only there for a few seconds before she retraced her steps and vanished inside her parents’ cottage. He hadn’t seen her since.

Strange.

His thoughts remained on her. It would have been easy to chalk his feelings up to infatuation, maybe desperation. Kim, no doubt, would agree with that. Since the divorce, his ex would occasionally ask him whether he’d met anyone. When he would reply that he hadn’t, she’d jokingly suggest that he was so out of practice that he’d probably end up falling head over heels in love with the first woman who so much as glanced at him.

That wasn’t what was going on here. He wasn’t infatuated with Hope, nor was he desperate, but he admitted to himself that he found her arresting. Ironically, it had something to do with Kim. Early on, he’d realized that Kim knew exactly how attractive she was and that she’d spent a lifetime learning to use it to her advantage. Hope seemed to be the opposite, even though she was equally beautiful, and it spoke to him in the same intuitive way as when he finished a drawing and thought, That’s exactly the way it should be.

He knew that it wasn’t appropriate to think such things, if only because nothing good could come of it. Not only was he leaving on Monday, but Hope would return to her life on Sunday, a life that included the man she thought she’d marry, even if they were having difficulties at present. Nor, with their respective weekends on tap, was he sure he’d even see Hope again.

Feeling another tug on the line, he played the game, timed it right, and set the hook. After a struggle that surprised him, he ended up pulling in a fish different from the flounder, but one he still didn’t recognize. The older man in the ball cap wandered back toward him, watching as Tru began to remove the hook.

“That’s a helluva whiting,” the man said.

“Whiting?”

“English Whiting. Sea mullet. Big enough to keep, too. Sure would be nice to cook it up. If you were planning to throw it back, I mean.”

Tru handed over the fish, watching as it vanished into the cooler again.

He didn’t have much luck the rest of the morning, but by then it was time to call Andrew. He packed up his things, walked to the shop, and got some change, then went to the pay phone. It took half a minute and a lot of coins to get through to an international operator, but eventually he heard the familiar ring as the call was placed.

When Kim answered, she agreed to accept the charges, and Andrew came on the line. His son had all sorts of questions about America, most of which had to do with various movies he’d seen. He seemed disappointed to learn that there weren’t endless shootouts on the streets, people in cowboy hats, or movie stars on every corner. After that, the conversation settled into something more normal and Tru listened as Andrew caught him up on what he’d been doing in the past few days. The sound of his voice made Tru ache at the thought that the two of them were half a world apart. For his part, Tru told Andrew about the beach and described the two fish he’d caught; he also told him about Scottie, and how Tru had gone to help him. They spoke longer than Tru had anticipated—nearly twenty minutes—before Tru heard Kim reminding Andrew that he still had homework to do. She popped on the line after Andrew.

“He misses you,” she said.

“I know. I miss him, too.”

“Have you seen your father yet?”

“No,” he answered. He told her about the meeting planned for Saturday afternoon. When he finished, Kim cleared her throat. “What was that I heard about a dog? It was hit by a car?”

“It wasn’t that serious,” Tru said before repeating the story. He made the mistake of mentioning Hope by name, and Kim immediately latched onto that.

“Hope?”

“Yes.”

“A woman?”

“Obviously.”

“I’m assuming that you two hit it off.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“Because you know her name, which means that the two of you spent some time in conversation. Which is something you never do anymore. Tell me about her.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Did the two of you go out?”

“Why is that important?”

Instead of answering, Kim laughed. “I can’t believe it! You’ve finally met a woman, and in America of all places! Has she ever been to Zimbabwe?”

“No…”

“I want to hear all about her. In exchange, I won’t ask you to reimburse me for the call…”

Kim stayed on the line for ten minutes, and though Tru did his best to downplay his feelings about Hope, he could almost hear Kim smiling on the other end. By the time he hung up, he was disconcerted by the call, and he took his time on the walk back up the beach. Beneath a belt of clouds that were turning the color of lead, he wondered how Kim could have deduced as much as she had so quickly. Even if he accepted the idea that she knew him better than almost anyone, it struck him as uncanny.

Women were indeed the mysterious sex.

A short while later, as he mounted the steps to the back deck, he was startled by the sight of a piece of white paper tacked near the latch. Realizing that Hope must have left it for him—and that was the reason she’d come by—he removed the tack and read the note.

Hi there! I’m heading out to Kindred Spirit today. If you’d like to join me, meet me on the beach at three.

He raised an eyebrow. Definitely the mysterious sex.

Inside the house, he found a pen and wrote a response. Remembering that she’d said she had some appointments, he left through the front door, walked to her place, and tucked the note into the door jamb next to the knob of her front door. Her car, he noticed, wasn’t in the drive.

Back at the house, he did a workout and then had a bite to eat. As he sat at the table, he gazed out the window at a sky that was slowly growing more ominous, hoping that the rain would hold off, at least until the evening.

Ellen had recommended not only the salon in Wilmington, but the stylist, Claire, as well. As Hope took a seat, she eyed the reflection of a woman with multiple piercings in her ears, a black studded dog collar, and black hair with purple streaks. She wore tight black pants and a black sleeveless top, completing the ensemble. Silently, Hope wondered what Ellen had been thinking.

It turned out that Claire had worked in Raleigh before moving to Wilmington earlier this year, and Ellen had been a loyal customer. Hope still wasn’t sure, but saying a little prayer to herself, she settled back in the chair. After asking her questions about the length and style she was interested in, Claire kept up a steady stream of chatter. When Hope gasped at the sight of nearly three inches of hair being lopped off, Claire promised that Hope would be thrilled before going on with whatever she’d been talking about in the first place.

Hope was nervous throughout the transformation, but after the highlights, blow dry, and style, she had to admit that Claire had talent. Hope’s naturally auburn hair now carried some lighter tints, as though she’d spent most of the summer in the sun, and the cut itself seemed to frame her face in a way that Hope had never envisioned possible. She left Claire an extra-generous tip on the way out and crossed the street to the nail salon, opening the door just as her appointment was set to begin. The nail technician, a middle-aged Vietnamese woman, spoke little English, so Claire pointed out a burgundy-rose color that would match the bridesmaid dress and read a magazine while her toes were being done.

Afterward, Hope swung by Wal-Mart to pick up a new coffee maker. She chose the least expensive model. It seemed pointless, since they were selling the cottage, but a cup of coffee was part of Hope’s morning routine, and she figured she’d just wrap it up on Saturday to give to Ellen as a wedding gift, with a note saying it was slightly used. Just kidding. But the thought made her giggle. She then spent some time scouting the nearby shops and was thrilled to find a pair of comfortable strappy heels that matched her bridesmaid dress. Though they were a bit expensive, she felt lucky to find a suitable pair, given her last-minute efforts. She also splurged on some beaded white sandals to replace the scuffed-up ones she was wearing. Popping into the clothing boutique next door, she browsed the racks. A little retail therapy never hurt anyone, after all, and she ended up purchasing a flower-patterned sundress that happened to be on sale. There was a small scoop in the front, a cinch at the waist, and the hemline reached just above her knees. It wasn’t the kind of dress she usually bought—to be honest, she seldom if ever bought dresses—but it was fun and feminine, and she couldn’t say no, even if she had no idea where or when she’d ever wear it.