Chapter 4: Table for Four

I wore the green dress again, because it was the only one I liked, and because Tripp had said he liked it.

Rhett was waiting at the foot of the terrace steps in a clean shirt, with his hair still damp.

"You look nice," he said, and then, "I mean, you look nice all the time. Tonight you're just louder about it."

"Is that a compliment?"

"I'm still working on it."

The hostess led us to a table by the rail, with a lamp and a view of the water.

We had not even unfolded our napkins when I heard my husband's voice behind me.

"Shelly! There you are."

Tripp came across the terrace with Camille a step behind him, both of them dressed for dinner.

He was smiling the wide, easy smile that gets investors to sign.

"And this must be the friend I've heard about," he said, and held out his hand. "Tripp Draycott. Rochelle's husband."

Rhett stood.

He took the hand, and for a second the two men looked at each other.

I saw something cross Rhett's face, small and quick, and then it was gone.

"Rhett Prendergast," he said. "Your wife got a little close to a current this morning. I helped her out of it."

"I heard." Tripp put his free hand on my shoulder. "Thank you. Truly. I owe you a drink."

I stared at him.

He had heard I nearly drowned from Camille, three hours ago, and had not called.

Now he stood over my table and offered to buy dinner.

"We'll join you," he said. "Camille, sit. Let's make it a table for four."

"Tripp," I said. "It's a dinner for two."

"Nonsense. We should meet the people you're making friends with." He pulled out a chair for Camille. "Tonight's on me."

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