Read Summer People for Free Online Page B

changed,” said Marc. “When I was a kid this was a real fishing village with five or six trawlers anchored in the river, smoke houses, nets on drying racks. The sea wall only protected the opening of the river. There wasn’t a marina, just a ramp where you could launch a boat. And there was an old World War II landing craft you could take if you wanted to go out to the islands. Now look at the place.”
    Lisa offered, “The buildings are still picturesque, and from out here they don’t look too different. And they do look better than your average boutiques and fudge shops.”
    “But that was real. This is all so damn phony: overpriced and sentimental watercolors and oils with nautical themes, Indian jewelry made in Taiwan, beaded belts from Hong Kong, even the Mexican jumping beans are probably from Paraguay, or Peru.”
    “You’re really doing your best to sound like an old curmudgeon. Enough of this talk about what was. I’m hungry, and I get cranky when I’m not fed on time.” She took Marc’s arm and led him back off the sea wall, across the pier, and past the shops to the restaurant. Although he protested a bit in the process, he was enjoying the playful way she was pulling him along. Their table, as Marc had specified when he made the reservation, was next to a large window overlooking the harbor. A waiter appeared with a bottle of champagne as soon as they were seated. The waiter showed Marc the label, opened the bottle, and poured a partial glass for his approval. The waiter then filled both their glasses.
    After he left the table, Lisa lifted the bottle from the ice. “How did you know?”
    “Your mother told me—I guess I forgot to tell you. She called this morning. Must’ve called me after she called you. She’s worried about you being up here all alone. Asked if I’d look in on you occasionally.”
    “And she just happened to mention which brand of champagne I prefer?”
    “As a matter of fact, she said you told her we were going to dinner this evening, and I asked what you liked to drink…”
    “Did you talk very long?” she interrupted.
    “We had a lot of catching up to do, and she was in a talkative mood. I think she’s a bit homesick.”
    “Yes,” said Lisa, “I sensed the same thing. This place is special. It’s hard not to be here in the summer.”
    Marc lifted his glass and said, “Let’s hope our memories of this summer are as rich as those that brought us back.”
    Lisa brought her glass to his. Their eyes met. Marc looked a bit embarrassed. He launched into a conversation. “Ray called this afternoon. He was intent on reaching you and got no answer at your place.”
    “He caught up with me just before I left to pick you up,” said Lisa. “He wants me to watch his interviews on the news. He thinks that with my background in advertising and public relations I can help him make better use of the media, especially now with this murder investigation getting him some TV exposure.”
    “I’ve seen many strange things in my life, but I never thought I would see someone helping package Ray. I can’t imagine he would have trouble winning an election.”
    “Well, it is the first time he has really been challenged, and by one of his former deputies—someone he fired for incompetence. The guy’s name is Hammer, Todd Hammer. He’s running a tough campaign and getting a lot of support from the gun lobby because Ray’s been leading a group of police organizations that are trying to get the legislature to ban the sale of assault rifles.”
    “But Ray has been sheriff for years, seems like he knows most of the natives and lots of the summer people.”
    “I don’t think there’s a chance that he will lose the election,” said Lisa. “But Hammer has really got under his skin. Ray told me he had a difficult time firing him—I guess it was quite ugly. But the thing that burns Ray is that Hammer spends his evenings making the rounds of the local bars, telling the patrons that