She’d had fiery red hair and a figure that made Ned want to drool just thinking about it even all these years later. That first summer, he’d made it a point to put himself in her path every day until she finally agreed to go out with him. Ned had just about worked up the nerve to ask her to marry him when Bobby Chester showed up on the island with a gang of pals for a bachelor party weekend. Francine never looked at Ned again after smooth-talking Bobby swept her off her feet.

For years after Bobby left her alone with two little girls to care for, Ned had hoped Francine would come to him, but she never had. Now here he was lurking in her driveway wishing he’d had the nerve to approach her after her good-for-nothing husband left her to fend for herself and her kids. Back then his pride had kept him away.

Seeing young Luke Harris together again with the girl he’d once loved had given Ned the courage to take a chance. Well, it had given him the courage to lurk in the woman’s driveway anyway. He’d heard through the grapevine that Francine was living above the dance studio where her younger daughter, Tiffany, taught dance classes. Her other daughter, Maddie, was married to Little Mac McCarthy. Happy as clams, the two of them.

“Well,” he said, slapping the dust off his best khaki shorts, “here goes nuttin.” He’d even combed his hair and trimmed his beard in honor of the occasion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done either. Head held high, he marched up the driveway, past the house where Jim and Tiffany lived with their young daughter, to the stairway that led to the apartment.

Ignoring the boogie skip of his heart and the tremble of his hands, Ned climbed the stairs and rapped on the door.

It cracked open and one green eye peered out at him. “What’d you want?”

“It’s me, Ned. Saunders.” Why should she recognize him? After all, they’d managed to live on the same small island and steer clear of each other for thirty-two years.

The door opened a little farther, and he could see those years hadn’t been kind to his poor Francine. Then again, an old codger like him probably didn’t set her heart to pitter-patter, neither. “Ned.”

“That’s m’name. Don’t wear it out.” Stupid! What a stupid thing to say!

She seemed genuinely flabbergasted to see him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I, um, I came to see if ya might like to, um, if ya’d consider, that is—”

“Spit it out already!”

“Have dinner with me. Tonight.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise. “You want to go out. With me?”

“That’s what I said, ain’t it?”

“Why?”