Lauren’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. First, she’d brought up that the house was said to be haunted, and now they were once again speaking of ghosts. She averted her gaze, staring at Billy’s silky head instead, but Dr. Kelly wasn’t fooled by her sudden aloofness.
“Tell you what. Meet me for a drink, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Lauren’s head shot up, her eyes opening wide. Was he asking her out? Wasn’t it unethical to fraternize with one’s patients? Well, technically, she wasn’t his patient; Billy was. And what was the harm? She’d spent less than a week in the house alone and already she felt the heavy weight of loneliness pressing down on her restless mind. Getting away and changing her surroundings had seemed like a great idea, but now that she was installed at Holland House, she felt even more lonely and unsettled. She didn’t know anyone in Orleans and wasn’t likely to make new friends if she didn’t come out of her shell, at least once in a while.
“All right,” she said, wondering if she was going to regret this. “Where and when?”
“Tonight? Unless you have big plans for your first Friday night in town.”
“I don’t.”
“How about the Blue Fin Bar and Grill? Say, seven? Do you know where it is?”
“I’ll find it. See you later, Dr. Kelly.”
“It’s Ryan,” he called after her, making her smile.
**
Lauren’s nervousness increased as the afternoon wore on. Why had she agreed to meet Ryan Kelly? She hardly knew him. Just because he was Billy’s veterinarian didn’t mean she should trust him. Maybe he made a pass at all his female clients. And how did he know she was single? Maybe she’d moved into Holland House with her husband and children, she reasoned as she stood in front of the antique wardrobe, looking for something to wear.
“Wear something pretty,” she heard Zack say. Lauren felt the prickle of tears and turned away from the wardrobe, unnerved. Zack’s spirit was urging her to move on, to open herself up to new experiences, but was it his guilt that prompted this encouragement, or her own need to come to terms with the loss she’d suffered? For the first nine months after his death, she’d felt nothing but impenetrable grief, but her feelings had shifted, going from sadness and hopelessness to anger and hurt. Her mother assured her that she was just going through the stages of grief, but her mother didn’t know the whole story; no one did. She had to work through her feelings on her own, without involving family or friends. Perhaps it was childish to feel ashamed, or misguided to keep their memories of Zack untarnished, but that was what she’d decided to do when she committed to this period of exile. She had a decision to make, and once she knew how she intended to proceed, she’d tell everyone the truth. But not yet. She wasn’t ready to shed light on something she’d kept hidden for the past few months, or to hear everyone’s opinions on the subject. This was between her and Zack, and it would remain that way, at least for now.
Suddenly upset, Lauren whipped out her phone and dialed Dr. Kelly’s office, hoping it wasn’t too late to cancel, but Merielle’s voice informed her that the office was closed and gave a number to call in case of emergency. It seemed wrong to call the emergency number simply to weasel out of having a drink with the man, so Lauren disconnected the call and turned back to the meager selection of clothes hanging in the wardrobe. She hadn’t brought any of her dressier outfits. She hadn’t worn them in ages, and there had seemed no point in lugging extra clothes when she’d be spending most of her time on her own.
She finally selected a cashmere V-neck in hunter green and paired it with the black slacks she’d brought along in case she needed to meet with a client. She hadn’t worn any makeup when she saw Dr. Kelly at the office, but some vestige of feminine vanity ushered her into the bathroom, where she applied eyeliner and mascara and dabbed a little lipstick onto her pale lips before releasing her heavy blonde hair from its ponytail.
The sky was full of stars, and a nearly full moon hung majestically over the inky water of the Atlantic by the time Lauren arrived at the waterfront bar. A part of her desperately wanted to turn around and drive away, but she forced herself to leave the sanctuary of her car and walked up the gravel path toward the door. The dining room was spacious and well lit, with waiters weaving between the tables and the hum of conversation spilling through the open doors, but the bar area was surprisingly intimate. Comfortable armchairs and couches stood grouped around small tables that afforded the perfect view of the moonlit bay, and soft music played in the background.
Ryan, who’d been occupying one of the armchairs, got to his feet and came over to greet her, giving her a casual peck on the cheek. “You came,” he said unnecessarily.
“I did,” Lauren replied, suddenly glad she’d overcome her reservations. It’d been a long time since she’d been out, and it felt nice not to be alone on a Friday night. She took the other chair and Ryan summoned the waiter.
“What will you have?” Ryan asked Lauren.
“Prosecco, please.”
“And a glass of Pinot Noir for me,” Ryan said. “Are you hungry? We can get a couple of appetizers.”
“I’m okay, thanks.”
“Maybe later,” Ryan said to the waiting waiter. “We’ll start with the drinks.” He leaned back in his armchair and crossed his legs, looking casual and relaxed. He wore a dark-blue button-down shirt, jeans, and a pair of comfortable-looking suede loafers, making Lauren glad she’d decided to change out of her leggings and sweater.
“You look nice,” he said, smiling shyly.
“Thank you,” Lauren muttered, disconcerted by his praise. “It’s beautiful,” she said, gazing out over the moonlit bay to distract him from watching her. “The stars never look this bright in Boston. There’s too much light.”
“The sky probably looked much the same when the first settlers arrived on Cape Cod,” he replied.
“Have you lived here long?”
“All my life. My mother’s ancestors settled on Cape Cod in the sixteenth century. The first Hayworth to arrive on these shores was a master builder, and he passed on his skills to future generations. The Hayworths built many of the houses in this area. My paternal great-great-grandparents came here from County Cork in Ireland and settled in Orleans, spawning several generations of fishermen. My dad was the first Kelly to go to college. He taught high school level history. He was the one who got me interested in local lore.”
“And who got you interested in photography?” Lauren asked with a smile. Was she flirting?
“My mom, actually. She likes to take pictures. The walls were always covered with family photos and nature shots she’d taken while I was growing up. She especially loves photographing lighthouses.”
“Did she take that photo of the lighthouse in a storm I saw in your waiting room?”
“Yes, she did. I love that one. It’s one of her favorites, but she gave it to me as a gift when I opened my own practice.”
The waiter returned with their drinks, and Lauren took a sip of her Prosecco, nodding in approval. It was delicious. “So, what do you know about Holland House?” she asked, reminding him why they were there.