An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach), Mariah Stewart [best classic novels TXT] 📗

“One of the best views ever, right here.” Maggie paused at the head of the dune, where beach grass bent in the face of a breeze blowing in from the water. Rugosa roses, a few still stubbornly blooming, and beach plums, still bearing pink fruit, grew among the grasses.

Liddy checked the time on her phone. “Come on. We need to keep moving if we’re going to get to that reception on time.” She put an arm over Maggie’s shoulder as they walked to the car. “Never know who we might run into.”

“Oh?” Maggie raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Liddy to be coy.

“Some of those yes responses were interesting.” Liddy dropped her arm at the passenger’s side and continued around the front of the car.

“Do tell,” Maggie said as she opened the door and got in.

“Mark Renfield is coming. As is Rick Gallup.” Liddy slid behind the wheel. “Both divorced. Rick’s the head surgeon at a hospital in Chicago now, by the way.”

“So . . . what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’ve been sleeping alone since Jim left and the last time I saw Rick, he looked pretty damned good. One might even say hot.” She put the car in drive. “And if I don’t put a move on him, LeeAnn will.”

“Are you sure you want a houseguest for the whole weekend? I wouldn’t want to cramp your style,” Maggie said. “Maybe I should consider a room at CeCe’s inn after all.”

“Don’t be silly. For all I know, Rick’s already on to wife number two. I’m just keeping my options open.” She glanced across the console at Maggie. “You should, too.”

Maggie waved a dismissive hand. “Not interested in putting the moves on anyone, thank you.”

“Oh, come on. With all due respect to Art, he’s been gone for two years. Are you telling me that you haven’t thought about hooking up with someone tall, dark, and handsome since then?”

“‘Hooking up’?” Maggie laughed out loud. “What are we, sixteen?”

“Call it whatever you want. You’re widowed, I’m divorced, and neither of us are even close to being old or dried up. You want to spend the rest of your life sleeping alone?” Not waiting for an answer, Liddy added, “I for one do not.”

Maggie looked out the window. She’d been so numb since Art’s death she’d barely thought about what, if anything, came next as far as her love life was concerned. To do so felt disrespectful of her late husband. If she turned to someone else for whatever reason—friendship, companionship, sex—would he somehow know and think she’d forgotten him? Several times before he passed away, he’d made her promise to live a full life after he was gone, but still . . .

Liddy pulled all the way to the garage at the very end of her driveway and parked, then cut the ignition.

“Well, if you’re thinking about getting lucky tonight, I suggest we get on with it. We have some work to do.” Maggie opened the car door and got out. In Liddy’s heart and in her wardrobe, the seventies were alive and well. It was part of her charm, but at the same time, it was a little predictable. The woman had so much going for her: smart, witty, so much fun. But her look—which might have been considered a little edgy in her teens—today looked tired, matronly. Her colorful clothes couldn’t hide the sallowness of her skin or her crow’s feet. Maggie knew it was a long shot, trying to talk Liddy into changing things up even a little.

As she slammed the car door closed, Liddy asked, “What do you mean, some work? What kind of work?” and followed her into the house.

“Seriously, Maggie? I haven’t worn that stuff in a million years.” Liddy staunchly declined Maggie’s offer to share her makeup. “I’m not going to start now.”

“What do you think will happen if you swiped on a little mascara?”

“I won’t look like myself. I’ll feel like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“A little makeup isn’t going to make you look like someone else. It just enhances what you already have. Who you already are.”

“Not going to happen.” Liddy was unmovable.

“Okay.” Maggie ceremoniously dropped the eye shadow stick, mascara wand, and blush into her makeup bag and zipped it closed.

She could have reminded Liddy of all the nights the three of them—she, Liddy, and Emma—had crowded into the bathroom Maggie shared with her sister and passed around the latest cosmetic purchase one of them had made. Back in high school, they’d shared it all, experimented with it all, worn it all, especially for special events. Like when Liddy had wanted to attract the attention of a certain junior, or when Maggie wanted to catch the attention of . . . okay, she let herself mentally say his name. Brett. Brett Kyle Crawford. Even his name had sounded golden to her. She’d wanted to attract his attention the first time she’d laid eyes on him, wanted him to notice her before one of the other girls got her hooks into him. She’d known he was meant to be hers the minute he walked into homeroom on the first day of school sophomore year.

Hers to win, hers to lose.

Maggie brushed the memories aside and slid the dress she’d picked up at Nordstrom over her head. She’d decided to go low key tonight. Black sheath with elbow-length sleeves, a camel leather belt double-looped around her waist, and leopard print heels. A choker of oversize cat’s-eye beads fit just inside the scooped neckline of the dress, and she chose large round gold discs for her ears.

“Wow. Sexy.” Liddy wiggled her eyebrows when Maggie joined her in the kitchen.

Maggie made a face. “Hardly. There’s no flesh showing above my knees or my elbows.”

“Maybe so, but the overall impression is a wow.” Liddy had donned a calf-length purple cotton skirt, which she’d paired with a plain white long-sleeve jersey knit top. Around her neck she’d wrapped several bead necklaces of various shapes, colors, and sizes.