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

have been blind to the fact that just about every head in this room turned when you came in,” Liddy told her.

“You came in at the same time,” Maggie reminded her. “Don’t assume everyone was looking at me.”

“Everyone’s used to seeing me around. You haven’t been to a reunion in years. Which makes you somewhat exotic.”

Maggie laughed. “Believe me, there’s nothing exotic about me or my life. But you’re right. It’s been too long. Let’s mingle. Let’s get a refill for our drinks—then we’ll go and have a good time.”

“Maybe I should have let you paint my face after all,” Liddy said with apparent reluctance as she glanced over her shoulder to the corner of the bar where LeeAnn was now holding court.

“Don’t be silly.” Maggie leaned closer to Liddy’s ear. “If you think you have to wear makeup to attract someone’s attention, you’re wearing it for the wrong reason, and you’re trying to attract the wrong person.”

“You were the one standing at the ready with the tools at hand,” Liddy reminded her.

“I was doing it for you, not Rick or anyone else.” Maggie slipped an arm through Liddy’s. “I just remembered how much we loved doing our makeup when we were younger.”

“You were trying to spruce me up and make me look more attractive, and I bitched at you.” Liddy sighed. “I’m sorry for that. Looking around here at everyone else, I guess I look a little old and tired. I don’t blame Rick for being lured away by LeeAnn’s cleavage.”

“I thought we were talking about makeup.”

“That too.” Liddy gestured toward the center of the room. “There’s Kay Doran. Did you know she’s working for the Boston Globe now? She covers the features desk. Let’s go catch up . . .”

The room was crowded, but in the end Maggie made it a point to seek out everyone in it and chat, if only for a moment. Besides renewing old friendships that had sadly been allowed to fade away over the years, she was amused to see how some people had changed, while others had not. The mousy girl from AP English no one seemed to notice back then had turned into a beauty, stylish and confident in ways no one could have predicted. Conversely, the class beauty queen had really let herself go. The once exuberant, happy, beautiful girl now looked emaciated and sad. Alas, however, the class geek had avoided becoming a cliché by not growing up to be a handsome, rich lady-killer. He was still geeky, but he looked comfortable in his skin and seemed to be having a good time.

“He isn’t coming.” Liddy came up behind Maggie, startling her.

“Who isn’t coming?”

Liddy rolled her eyes. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I caught you looking at the door.”

“I wasn’t aware I’d been looking. And if I was, I wasn’t looking for anyone in particular.”

“I just heard there was an accident out on Six. He’s working.”

Maggie cut her off, protesting she hadn’t been looking for anyone in particular, but they both knew she’d been watching for Brett, dreading the moment he’d come through the door at the same time she was anxiously awaiting his arrival. Anybody’d be curious about an old boyfriend. It was nothing more than that, she’d told herself when they’d rehashed the evening later at Liddy’s—who’d changed for the better, who the years had not been kind to. Who was unrecognizable, who hadn’t changed a damn bit. Her protests aside, in her heart, Maggie knew the one face she’d most wanted to see was the one that hadn’t shown.

Chapter Three

For Maggie, deciding in which of the Saturday events to take part had been a no-brainer. She hated golf—she’d learned to play because Art wanted her to, but she’d never taken to it. There was no way she was going to sit in the stands and watch a football game—too many memories there. So while Liddy played golf and Emma tended to the art center, Maggie joined some old friends for lunch at Mimi’s. New since Maggie’s last visit to Wyndham Beach, the restaurant was bright and pretty, with lots of glass overlooking the water and lush green plants in every window.

There were eighteen women in the group, divided between three tables positioned closely enough to each other that the diners could take part in nearby conversations. As Liddy promised, the food was delicious, and the company engaging and downright fun. Maggie found herself seated next to Dee Olson, who, after having raised five children, trained to run marathons.

“You run marathons?” Maggie had a vague recollection of Dee having been somewhat athletic back in the day, but marathons were a far cry from the track events they’d all been forced to participate in.

Dee nodded, a smile on her face. “At least two a year. Sometimes three.”

“When I was younger, I used to run every morning for about forty minutes,” Maggie confessed to Dee, “but I was never good enough to run a marathon. It’s been on my bucket list for a couple of years, though.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘good enough,’” Dee replied. “Marathon running is really more a discipline. Taking your training seriously enough to make a schedule and stick to it.” She smiled wryly. “Which is why I didn’t run my first until I was in my forties. I just couldn’t stick to a schedule while my kids were still in school. At least, that was the excuse I gave myself. After the last kid left for college, I had no excuses left. I realized if I really wanted to do this, I had to stop talking about it and start taking the steps I needed to make it happen.”

“I’m sure it was really hard,” Maggie said.

“It got easier.” That wry smile again. “Here’s the thing. The more you run, the more you can run.”

“Well, I admire the fact that you have the willpower to do something so demanding. I’m really impressed.”

“If you ever get serious about it,