“Preston Summerlin has dabbled in politics for a long time,” said Howard Deerfield, “mostly as a perennial loser. Between the traditional southern Democrats sliding over to the Republican party, and the influx of conservative northerners and country club Republicans, an old-school moderate liberal like Summerlin doesn’t have much of a base anymore. Not that he ever did in this town.”

  “That’s quite a little speech,” his wife told him. “Have you been practicing it?”

  “Of course I have, my dear. Haven’t you heard me rehearsing in the bathroom?”

  “I think I will bring up working for him next summer. Interning, sort of. Or maybe Kris’s father if Mister Summerlin turns me down,” Ronnie told them.

  “I’m sure Tom Greene does more business than Summerlin,” said Patty Deerfield.

  “That’s not necessarily a good thing,” her father countered. “You know, you could work for me if you wanted.”

  This was something he had mentioned before and, as before, Ronnie thought it a very bad idea. “I’m not interested in architecture, Dad,” she replied. “Nor journalism,” she said to her mother, “though Joey is.”

  Patty ughed. “I don’t think I need much help writing my weekly column. Other than your father’s suggestions, of course.”

  “She always knows to write just the opposite. But if Joey needs a part-time job, tell her to see me. She could run pns to my clients on her bike!”

  Maybe she would say something to Joey. Her dad liked her. He liked Kris too. Mom had always been a little more cool to her friends. To her best friends. But then, she had liked Daryl. She’d probably love Russel Penn. Didn’t she know his mom?

  Ronnie did not think she would bring any Summerlins by to meet her. It was enough for now that she was okay with An.

  “I’m going to lock myself in the closet for a while,” her father announced, and left without further expnation. None was needed; Howard Deerfield had an office but he sometimes drafted in a little room here at their home.

  “Is that what you’re wearing on your date?” asked her mother. “You used to wear dresses.”

  “It’s summertime, Mom.” Shorts and a blouse were certainly enough.

  “And the living is easy?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Be sure to dress up a little if you talk to Mister Summerlin. He’s a bit old-fashioned about things like that, I think.”

  Hmm, yes. “I’ve never seen him in shorts, I’ll admit. Unlike Mister Greene.” If she went to talk to Kris’s dad, she’d wear scks, she decided. That would work well. It would make her look serious and grown up, even though he had known her since she was a little girl. “But Preston Summerlin has seen me in all sorts of clothes this summer.” Including her bathing suit. No need to add that.

  Ronnie got up from the table. “An should be along soon. I’d better finish getting ready.”

  Not that there was much to do. She wasn’t even bothering with lipstick when she went anywhere with An. Maybe some earrings, she told herself, sitting down at her little vanity. Those big clunky bright ones she’d never brought herself to wear in public before. They’d work with this pastel blouse.

  Was going out with An becoming just something to do on a Friday night? She liked him better than any boy she’d ever dated. Better than any boy she’d ever known. Maybe she was even in love. It didn’t feel like the sort of love she’d read about in novels or seen in movies. Ronnie wasn’t completely sure that even existed.

  And if it did, if she was in love, would it st? She and An would be going their separate ways at the end of summer. Things would change between them. That was inevitable. Again, the idea of attending Edison passed through her mind. They could stay together then. That wouldn’t be a good career choice, would it? She should focus on her education now.

  A nagging doubt arose to nag her again. Was she really good enough, smart enough, for a w career? Would she end up teaching school or something of that sort?

  “Here’s your surfer,” called her mom. “You two start your evenings awful early, don’t you?”

  “Why waste the sunshine?” Ronnie replied, going to the door. She had it open before An could ring the bell. He wasn’t dressed up either.

  But then, An’s idea of formal wear was probably an aloha shirt. “Where are we going?” she asked as she got into his wagon. He did open the door for her this time. An didn’t always remember that sort of thing. “Not another surf movie?” She hoped he could tell she was joking. She hadn’t minded the one he’s taken her to. Maybe she even like it.

  “No, I won’t inflict that on you. At least not tonight.” He settled behind the steering wheel before going on. “I was thinking of taking a little surf trip to the east coast. Two or three days.” There was a short pause, a gathering of himself, before his question rushed out. “Would you like to come?”

  “Overnight?” Don’t panic! “Where do you stay? A motel?” Separate rooms. That might be okay.

  “Oh, I camp. There’s a nice campground near Sebastian Inlet, or maybe up at Canaveral Jetty. Russ and I have stayed at both of them.”

  In a tent with An. Her parents would not like that idea. She wasn’t big on it herself. “Couldn’t we just do a one-day trip sometime? Try it out first.”

  An briefly frowned but there might have been relief in the expression that followed. “Yeah, that’s a better idea, isn’t it?” He backed out into the street. “If you don’t mind a really early start.”

  “Like Four or Five?” Her father had sometimes rousted the family for trips that early.

  “Like Two or Three. It’s a pretty long drive.”

  “Oh. I haven’t set my arm clock since school ended.” Maybe she should suggest someone else come along. That wasn’t something to bring up right now.

  “I like to be in the waves at dawn,” said An. A ugh followed on the heels of his statement. “I sound full of myself when I say things like that, don’t I? The dedicated surfer! There is no guarantee of waves at this time of year.”

  “It would be cool to watch the sun rise over the Atntic. I’ve never done that.”

  “I’d be lying if I said it looked a whole lot different from the sun setting over the Gulf.”

  “Except in reverse. Hey, if you drove fast enough you could see both in one day!”

  “Wouldn’t have to be very fast. There should be time enough to stop and have lunch on the way. But how about dinner, now? Do you like seafood?”

  Was An suggesting a real dinner-date? This was a first for them. “Sure. Isn’t that off-bounds for a vegetarian boy?”

  “Shrimp are okay. Or scallops or even oysters, though I don’t much like those. I avoid anything with a spine.” He pulled the wagon out onto the Trail, driving south. She went through a list of seafood pces in her head. He could be headed for any of them.

  “As long as you don’t consider me spineless,” she quipped, a little too te maybe but it had sounded witty to her. In her head, it had.

  Rain spattered on the windshield. “Never,” he answered switching on the wipers. A moment ter, he decided to do the same with the headlights. “You and your friends are a spiny bunch.”

  Ronnie had to ugh aloud at that bit of absurdity. She was still chuckling when they crossed the bay and pulled in at the Fish House. A mingled aroma of fried fish and Naples Bay greeted her as she stepped out of the car, in front of the low, wooden building. This really was the old Naples her dad went on about. This pce was about as old as any restaurant in town, and commercial fishermen had brought their catch to the docks behind it even longer.

  And she just had to kiss this boy, her boyfriend, before they went inside.