“I can’t believe it, but I agree with you. We should just enjoy each other and see what the plan is when it’s time.”

Something in me had changed when Archie asked me if I wanted Sharon’s cats. I thought then that if I didn’t start saying what it was that I wanted, I shouldn’t expect to get it. Archie got so off base about me because I let him be so off base about me. I was never clear.

We rode in amused silence across the bridges and causeways until we reached Folly Road and Bowens Island. Then we went inside, got a table, and looked at the walls, which were covered in graffiti.

“This place makes me wish I’d brought a set of Sharpies,” I said.

“Well, you go writing on the walls and I might have to take you into custody, ma’am.”

“I think this place encourages bad behavior,” I said. “And I might like to be in your custody. You never know.”

“I knew I liked it here,” he said. He was quiet for a moment and then he said, “You know, Miss Jensen, you might just have a little devil in you that’s ready to dance.”

“Ted, I’m thirty years old. You know I never squandered my flowers, so to speak.”

“Squandered your flowers? Oh, God! Holly! Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“Because I’m a big nerd. DuBose Heyward. You’re not the only one who wrote lousy poetry.”

“DuBose Heyward who wrote Porgy and Bess with George Gershwin?”

“Fun fact. It was his wife, Dorothy, who adapted his book Porgy for the stage, and Porgy and Bess was born. Gershwin’s musical came later, and it made less money than Dorothy’s production. But he was a genius. They all were, actually.”

“I can’t wait to hear what qualifies as genius in your mind.”

“You’re kidding, right? The guy was one of the greatest composers of the twentieth century! Rhapsody in Blue, An American in Paris, “Funny Face,” “Love Is Here to Stay,” “I Got Rhythm” . . . need I say more?”

“And I imagine you know all the lyrics to all the songs?”

“Of course!”

“The same way I do with Cole Porter?”

“What?”

“I’ve worn out three vinyl albums of Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Song Book.”

We were a match made in heaven. I hoped. Everything with Ted was as easy as everything with Archie had been circumspect. Laughter came easily. Kindness was in abundance. And we had a lot in common. Not to mention no small amount of heat for each other.

After devouring platters of fried shrimp and fish with french fries, coleslaw, and hush puppies, all washed down with a few Budweisers, we paid our bill and went out to the deck to watch the sunset.

“Would you like another beer?”

“Oh, no, I’m just fine. Dinner was delicious,” I said. “Thanks.”