The High Tide Club

She dug out the last bite of gelato with the tip of a biscotti, tasted, and rolled her eyes. “So good.”

“Like this evening,” Gabe said, watching her over the rim of his glass. “I love seeing you like this, Brooke.”

He reached over with his napkin and dabbed at a bit of gelato on the corner of her mouth. His hand lingered there for only a moment, but she felt herself blushing.

“You mean with food all over my face? That’s an everyday occurrence. I’m an even messier eater than my three-year-old.”

“He’s a pretty cute kid, by the way. No, I meant seeing you relaxed, enjoying yourself, just being yourself.”

“Are you saying I’ve changed? Since we worked together in Savannah?”

“Definitely. You were always so driven and focused when you were working for the firm in Savannah. I don’t think I was ever with you when you completely let your hair down, the way you have tonight. It’s a nice change. It suits you.”

“Well … thanks. I’ve had kind of a rough three years, raising a child by myself in a new town. There were weeks and months I didn’t think I’d make it. Henry was not an easy baby, and I didn’t get a lot of sleep. But somehow, I guess we weathered the storm. Henry sleeps through the night now, mostly. My practice is finally starting to grow, slowly. I’ve got good childcare—Farrah, who you met tonight, is a godsend. She’s my right-hand girl in the office too. She adores Henry, and the feeling is mutual, and she’s smart as a whip. I don’t know what I’ll do in the fall when she goes off to school in Athens.”

Gabe swirled the port in his glass. “And what about your personal life?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Personal life? Who has time for that?”

“Now you sound like the old Brooke,” he chided. “Don’t you have any desire to see what life is like outside the office? Or Henry’s nursery?”

“You mean date?”

“Yeah. That.”

She sat back in her chair and took a long look at him. His silver hair glinted in the candlelight, and his eyes were frank and appraising.

“I haven’t given it a lot of thought,” she said finally. “For one thing, there’s not exactly a deep dating pool of eligible men in these parts. I mean, sure, I get hit on by your garden-variety rednecks and the occasional horny, inappropriate married guy. And I’ve had some very tempting offers to provide oral gratification to some of the inmates at the county lockup…”

Gabe laughed.

“But otherwise, I haven’t met anybody down here that I’d want to date. And I haven’t felt the need to go looking, despite Farrah’s pleas to set me up with a Tinder account. Now. Turnabout is fair play, Gabe Wynant. What about you? Are you a Match.com guy, or are you more of an eHarmony type? Or maybe Christian Mingle?”

“None of the above. I swear. You know how it is in Savannah, though. For a while after Sunny died, I was fresh meat in the dating supermarket. Her old friends—hell, my old friends—all wanted to set me up, either with themselves or somebody they knew. And I’ll admit, it was lonely. I went out a few times, saw a couple of women for third or fourth dates, but there was never any real connection, so I just kind of gave up.”

“It’s much less stressful to stay home in my yoga pants, read a book, have a glass of wine, and enjoy my own company,” Brooke said.

“Bingo,” Gabe said. “The easy way out. But that gets old too, you know?”

She smiled noncommittally.

The waiter brought the check, Gabe presented his credit card, and he and Brooke drifted out of the restaurant. A breeze was blowing off the river, and as they walked to his car, which he’d had to park a block away, Gabe caught his hand in hers in an easy, natural movement.

“Nice night out,” he said. “Not even that humid.”

“For Georgia. In May,” she agreed.

“Want to take a walk?”

She hesitated, trying to estimate the time.

“Aw, come on. It’s not that late,” he said, reading her thoughts. “It’s not even ten.”

“Okay. But just down to the docks and then back. It’s a school night for me, and Henry’s up at six every morning.”

They swung their hands companionably as they walked along the waterfront. The air smelled of marsh mud and salt water and faintly of fish. The sky was pricked with stars. She thought if she squinted she could see the lights of shrimp boats headed out to sea.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” Gabe said as they reached the municipal docks.

“Um, thanks,” she said. She’d deliberately dressed down for the occasion; white jeans, a simple V-necked navy cotton sweater, and a necklace she’d splurged on at a local boutique, white coral beads with an oyster-shell medallion in the middle.

“Nice to see you not swathed in your typical lady lawyer battle armor of a business suit and heels,” Gabe said.

“Not much call for business suits and heels down here,” Brooke said. “I’ll wear one if I’m in court, in front of a judge, but this is as dressy as it gets for me these days.”

“If you did feel the urge to dress up, I’d love to take you to dinner up at the Cloister,” Gabe said. “They’ve got a great new chef, and there’s an orchestra and dancing on Saturday nights.”

“Oh my gosh. They still have those? My parents used to take me to those when I was a teenager. Mom would make Dad dance with me, and it was total agony.”

“Oh.” He looked disappointed. “You don’t like to dance?”

“I love to dance. And so did he, but it was so damn embarrassing, dancing with your father, who was trying to be all hip and happening. I’ll never forget the night he tried to do the Macarena. The memory is permanently seared onto my brainpan.”

Gabe winced. “If I promise not to try to break out any new dance moves, would you consider coming to dinner with me Saturday night?”

“At the Cloister? But that’s like an hour away.”

“You could stay over,” Gabe said. “Not at my place. I mean, you could stay at my place. There’s room, and I swear I wouldn’t hit on you. But what I meant was I’d book you a room at the hotel. And I’d bring you home first thing in the morning.”

“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I’d have to see if Farrah is available to stay over. It’s a lot. And you saw how clingy Henry can be. Don’t get me wrong, it sounds like fun, but…”

“Just think about it, okay?”

“I will. Now I’d better get home, or Farrah will have the state patrol out looking for me.”

The ride home took only five minutes. When Gabe pulled into the driveway, they saw a quick flick of the front window curtains.

“Told ya,” Brooke said. “She’s very protective of me.”

“Hmm,” Gabe said.

“But she totally approved of this car. Whatever happened to the Mercedes?”

“I still have it. The Porsche was a complete surprise. Turns out, Sunny bought it without ever saying a word to me. I found it covered by a tarp in the garage at the house at Sea Island the first time I came down after she died.”

“A Porsche 911? She just bought it on a whim?”

He shrugged. “More like on a toot. I’ll sell it eventually, when I sell the house, but for tonight, I thought maybe I’d impress a girl with it.”