“I thought you said…”

“We’ve just been e-mailing, so I don’t actually know her,” he explained, then added: “But I want to.”

“This makes no sense at all,” Quinn said, slumping back in her seat. “I have no idea what’s going on right now.”

The waiter returned to clear their plates, but neither of them had touched the shrimp. He gave Graham another threatening look before turning around again. Once he was gone, Quinn sat forward.

“So you and Ellie have been writing e-mails to each other,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact, and Graham nodded.

“I got in touch with her accidentally a few months ago, and we started writing back and forth,” he said. “It was one of those things that just sort of… happened.”

She was eyeing him carefully. “And now here you are.”

“Right,” he said. “Here I am.”

“In Henley.”

“Yup,” he said with a feeble grin. “Beautiful Henley, Maine.”

It took only a moment for her eyes to widen as she connected the dots. “And is that why?”

“Why what?”

“Why the movie’s here this summer?”

Graham tried not to look sheepish as he shrugged. “Sort of.”

“You came here to meet her?” she asked, her tone increasingly incredulous, and when he nodded, she shook her head again, as if trying to absorb all of this. “Wow,” she said, almost to herself, and then she said it again: “Wow.” She picked up her water glass, but made no move to take a sip. “I can’t believe she never told me. This whole time she’s been pen pals with Graham-freaking-Larkin, and she doesn’t even tell me.” She closed her eyes, just briefly, then blinked them open again. “And here she’s been going around acting like she couldn’t care less that you’re in town.”

The smile slipped from Graham’s face, and he cleared his throat. “Well, in fairness, she doesn’t know it’s me that she’s writing,” he said, hearing the defensiveness in his own voice. He reached for his glass and took a swig.

Quinn let out a little breath of air, then raised her eyes to meet his over the rim of the glass. “You probably saw her already. She was right outside Sprinkles when you came in. She’s kind of tall. With red hair?”

Graham’s heart bounded in his chest, and he lowered the glass, thinking of the girl with the green eyes, the one who had been sizing him up. “Yeah, I think I did see her.” His eyes strayed to the door, and he forced them back to the table. “That’s great,” he said, craning his neck for the waiter, then picking up his menu again. “I’ll see if I can go find her tomorrow.”

Across the table, Quinn watched him; he could feel her pointed gaze, and after a moment, he lowered the menu and looked up at her.

“Go ahead,” she said, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Go ahead where?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. But when the cameras weren’t rolling, he was a terrible liar, and he knew she could tell.

“Go find her now,” Quinn said with a half smile. “You’ve come all this way, and I’m not going to make you sit through a whole dinner with me.”

“No,” Graham said in weak protest. “I’m having a good time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Really, it’s fine,” she said, casting a glance over her shoulder at the waiter, who was still lingering near the kitchen. “I’ll make Devon eat with me.” She winked at him. “And I’ll still let you pay.”

Graham laughed. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said, and before either of them could change their minds, Graham fished a handful of bills from his wallet and laid them on the table, then rose from his seat.

“She’s probably home right now,” Quinn said, pointing to the window behind Graham, where the main street of the town had grown quiet as the dusk settled over it. “It’s the little yellow cottage near the corner of Prospect and Sunset.”

“Thank you,” he said, and this time, he remembered to kiss her on the cheek.

She smiled. “Tell her to have fun on my date.”

Just as Graham was about to rush out the front door, Joe appeared at his side. “I sent them away,” he said, nodding out across the street, “but I’m sure they’re still around here somewhere, so if you’re planning an escape, I’d go out through the kitchen.”

Graham thanked him and hurried past the pots of whistling lobsters and the chefs in white shirts. Just before slipping out, he paused beside Devon, who had watched with a stunned expression as Graham charged into the kitchen.

“How do I get to the corner of Prospect and Sunset?”

“Just head down Main Street and take a left onto Prospect,” he said, looking flustered. “You’ll run right into it.”

“Thanks, man,” Graham said, then gave him a little pat on the shoulder as he pushed open the door. He nodded back at the dining room. “She’s all yours.”

Outside, he pulled in a deep breath of salty air. The light was fading over the water, and the whole world was steeped in shades of blue. There was a breeze coming from the east that lifted Graham’s hair from his forehead, and he felt light on his feet as he set off down the road, propelled by that rarest of things: the promise of a second chance. As he walked past old homes and B&Bs, the lights starting to come on in the windows, he thought of the red-haired girl he’d seen just hours ago, the way her eyes had lingered on him with a strange sort of intensity, and his heart banged in time with his footsteps, a rhythm that carried him up the street with renewed energy.

When he saw the sign for Sunset Drive, he slowed down and began to examine each house. It was hard to tell the white ones from the yellow in the dusk, but as he approached a small clapboard colonial, he saw that the porch light was on. And even before he could register its color, he noticed the girl sitting curled on the swing, and he knew that he had arrived.

As he walked up the path, she looked up from her book. The light above her was small and buzzing with insects, and it reached only so far in its efforts to push back the gathering darkness. When he stopped, she lifted her chin, craning her neck, and Graham could tell from the uncertain look in her eyes that he was only a shadow to her, a mere silhouette.

But from where he was standing, he could see her perfectly: the wavy red hair and the oversize T-shirt with a smiling lobster on the front, the way her legs were tucked up beneath her on the swing, and the freckles across her nose. He could see her, and it was just like he’d thought. It was just like being punched in the stomach.

From: EONeill22@hotmail.com

Sent: Sunday, June 9, 2013 6:08 PM

To: GDL824@yahoo.com

Subject: Re: what happy looks like

Welcome surprises.

At first, there was nothing beyond the edge of the porch but darkness. If not for the crunch of gravel, Ellie would never have known someone was there at all. She listened more intently. But there was only the chirping of crickets and the rush of the waves down the street, and behind her, the sound of the dog skittering madly around the wooden floors of the house. She squinted out, but beyond the pool of light where she sat, there was nothing; she could only sense someone out there the way you can feel someone watching you across a crowded room—that prickle of awareness, that shiver up your spine.