“You got a deal.”

They turned away from the boatyard. “You can pick a spot,” she began. “It’s necessary to stand. People don’t generally pay attention to someone who’s sitting and looking. They often assume the person is simply daydreaming or resting.”

“I get it.”

“It’s more effective if you look up at something. Is it okay if I videotape?”

He raised his eyebrows as she took a neat compact video recorder out of her bag. “Yeah, I guess. You carry that around all the time?”

“When I’m working, I do. And a notebook, and a micro audio tape recorder, backup batteries and tapes, extra pencils. My cell phone.” She laughed at herself. “I like being prepared. And the day they make a computer small enough to fit in a purse, I’m going to be the first in line.”

“Phil likes all that electronic stuff, too.”

“The baggage of the urbanite. We’re desperate not to waste a minute. Then, of course, we can’t get away from anything because we’re plugged in every second of the day.”

“You could just turn everything off.”

“Yes.” Oddly she found the simplicity of his statement profound. “I suppose I could.”

Pedestrian traffic was light on the waterfront. She saw a workboat unloading the day’s catch and a family taking advantage of the balmy afternoon by splurging on ice cream sundaes at one of the little outdoor tables. Two old men, their faces nut brown and deeply seamed, sat on an iron bench with a checkerboard between them. Neither seemed inclined to make a move. A trio of women chatted in the doorway of one of the shops, but only one of them carried a bag.

“I’m going to stand over there.” Seth pointed to his spot. “And look up at the hotel.”

“Good choice.” Sybill stayed where she was as he strolled off. Distance was necessary to keep the experiment pure. She lifted the camera, zoomed in as Seth moved away. He turned once, shot her a quick, cocky smile.

And when his face filled her view screen, emotions she hadn’t been prepared for flooded her. He was so handsome, so bright. So happy. She struggled to pull herself back from a dangerous edge that she was afraid was despair.

She could walk away, she thought, pack up and leave, never see him again. He would never know who she was or what they were to each other. He would never miss whatever she could bring into his life. She was nothing to him.

She’d never really tried to be.

It was different now, she reminded herself. She was making it different now. Deliberately she ordered her fingers to relax, her neck, her arms. She was causing no harm by getting to know him, spending some time studying his situation.

She taped him as he settled on his spot, lifted his face. His profile was finer, more angled than Gloria’s, Sybill decided. Perhaps his bone structure had come from his father.

His build wasn’t Gloria’s either, as she’d first assumed, but more like her own, and her mother’s. He would be tall when he finished growing, mostly leg, and on the slim side.