Anne was waiting for him in the lobby, and looked up, smiling, when she heard him coming. Neither had relished saying good night the night before. They had stayed out at Wisconsin Point for perhaps two hours, and Harry had held her feet in his lap the entire time, only removing his hands occasionally to turn the key in the ignition so the car would warm up again. Moments of conversation had alternated with moments that were made of just their contented breathing, and her little feet nuzzling his hands. “I—I wish I could invite you in,” she had told him as they stood under the porch light at Mrs. Hanson’s, and he had brushed her cheek with his finger, and finally kissed her, at the outer corner of her eyebrow. He’d been astonished out at Wisconsin Point on the beach when she had kissed him, so astonished that he’d quickly disregarded it, thinking maybe she’d just slipped or something. He didn’t want to rush things; he was still afraid of seeming like a lecherous old man if he came on too strong. But that didn’t stop him, saying good night, from asking her, “When can I see you again?” and adding, “Tomorrow?” as sort of a joke, but she’d looked up and nodded. “You aren’t like anyone I’ve ever met,” she told him, before closing the door gently between them.

Waiting for him now at the base of the stairs, her maiden’s armor was back in place: sharp, lovely eyes, bright smile. He called to her, “Hello, beautiful,” and liked the way her smiled deepened. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he crossed to her quickly, touched her elbow. He was shy and grinning with elation, a little short of breath at the sight of her.

“Hello,” she said. She was wearing her navy-blue hat and coat, clutching her black purse in her gloved hands.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Just a couple of minutes.”

“Are you ready for lunch?”

She nodded. He held the door for her; once they were out on the sidewalk, she linked her arm through his, and he had that feeling of capsizing again.