“I didn’t say that. I’m waiting to hear your reasons.”

Delia started walking again. If she had known Eliza would pop up this way, she would have invented some reasons ahead of time. It was ridiculous not to have any.

“Mr. Sudler thought you were a battered wife,” Eliza said.

“Who?”

“The roofer. Vernon Sudler.”

“Oh, Vernon,” Delia said. Yes, of course: he would have seen the newspaper.

They crossed the street and headed north. Delia had planned to visit the thrift shop, but now she didn’t know where she was going.

“He phoned us in Baltimore,” Eliza said. “He asked for-”

“ Baltimore! What were you doing in Baltimore?”

“Why, we packed up and drove there after you left. Surely you didn’t think we’d stay at the beach.”

Actually, Delia had thought that. But she could see now it would have looked strange: everybody slathering on the suntan lotion as usual, industriously blowing air into their rafts while the policemen gave their bloodhounds a sniff of Delia’s slippers.

“We thought at first you’d gone to Baltimore yourself,” Eliza was saying. “You can imagine the fuss with the floor refinishers when all of us walked in. And when we didn’t find you there… Well, thank goodness Mr. Sudler called. He called the house last night, inquiring how to get in touch with me personally, and as luck would have it I was the one who answered. So he said he could swear you hadn’t been kidnapped, but he hesitated to tell the police because he believed you’d had good cause to run away. He said you got out of his van at a church that counsels battered women.”

“I did?”

Delia stopped in front of the florist’s shop.

“You saw their signboard and asked him to let you out, he said.”

“Signboard?”

“And also there’d been some discussion, he said, something you two were discussing that made him wonder later if… But he wouldn’t tell me your whereabouts, in case your husband was dangerous. ‘Dangerous!’ I said. ‘Why, Sam Grinstead is the kindest man alive!’ I said. But Mr. Sudler was very fixed in his mind. He said, ‘I only called to tell you she’s all right, and I want to say too I didn’t know at the time that she was running away. She just begged me for a ride to this certain town,’ he said, ‘and claimed that she had family there, so I didn’t see the harm.’ Then he said not to tell Sam, but of course I did tell Sam; I could hardly keep it a secret. I told Sam I would come talk to you first and find out how things stood.”

She waited. She was going to make Delia ask. All right. “And what did Sam say back?” Delia asked.

“He said well naturally I should come. He agreed completely.”

“Oh.”

Another wait.

“And he quite understood that I couldn’t divulge which town it was till we’d talked.”

“I see,” Delia said.

Then she said, “But how did you know the town?”

“Why, because you told Mr. Sudler you had family there.”

“Family. Um…”

“Our mother’s family! In Bay Borough.”

“Mother’s family lives in Bay Borough?”

“Well, they used to. Maybe some still do, but nobody I would have heard of. You knew that. Bay Borough? Where Aunt Henny lived? And Great-Uncle Roscoe had his chicken farm just west of?”

“That was in Bay Borough?”

“Where else!”

“I never realized,” Delia said.

“I can’t imagine why not. Shoot, there’s even a Weber Street -Grandmother Carroll’s maiden name. I crossed it coming in from Three eighty. And a Carroll Street just south of here, if I remember correctly. Isn’t there a Carroll Street?”

“Well, yes,” Delia said, “but I thought that was the other Carrolls. The Declaration of Independence Carrolls.”

“No, dear heart, it’s our Carrolls,” Eliza said comfortably. Proving her point had evidently put her in a better mood.

They started walking again, passing the dentists’ office and the optician’s. “In fact, I believe we’re related to the man who started this town,” Eliza said. “But only by marriage.”

“The man… You mean George Bay?”

“Right.”

“ George Bay the deserter?”

“Well, you’re a fine one to talk, might I mention.”

Delia flinched.

“So I drove on over this morning,” Eliza said, “and inquired anywhere I thought you might be staying. Turns out there’s only one inn, not counting that sleazy little motel on Union Street. And when I didn’t find you there I figured I’d keep an eye on the square, because it looked to be the kind of square that everybody in town passes through at one time of day or another.”

They were abreast of Mr. Pomfret’s office now. If he had returned from lunch he could glance out the front window and see her walking by. Miss Grinstead with a companion! Acting sociable! She hoped he was still in the Bay Arms Restaurant with his cronies. At George Street she steered Eliza left. They passed Pet Heaven, where a boy was arranging chew toys next to the sacks of kibble.

“Delia,” Eliza said, “Mr. Sudler had it wrong, didn’t he? I mean, is there some… problem you want to tell me about?”

“Oh, no,” Delia said.

“Ah.” Eliza suddenly looked almost pretty. “See there? I told him so!” she cried. “I told him I was positive you just needed a little breather. You know what the police said? When we called them, this one policeman said, ‘Folks,’ he said, ‘I’ll wager any amount she is perfectly safe and healthy.’ Said, ‘The most surprising number of women seem to take it into their heads to walk out during family vacations.’ Did you know that? Isn’t that odd?”

“Hmm,” Delia said. Her feet felt very burdensome. She could just barely drag them along.

“I guess he’d had lots of experience, working in Bethany Beach and all.”

“Yes, I guess he had,” Delia said.

“So should we collect your things, Dee?”

“My things,” Delia said. She stopped short.

“I’m parked down next to the square. Do you have any luggage?”

Something hard rose up in Delia’s throat-a kind of stubbornness, only fiercer. She was taken aback by the force of it. “No!” she said. She swallowed. “I mean, no, I’m not going with you.”

“Pardon?”

“I want… I need… I have a place now, I mean a job, a position, and a place to stay. See? There’s where I live,” Delia said, gesturing toward Belle’s. The gauze curtains in the downstairs windows looked like bandages, she noticed.

“You have a house?” Eliza asked incredulously.

“Well, a room. Come see! Come inside!”

She took Eliza’s elbow and drew her toward the porch. Eliza hung back, her arm as rigid as a chicken wing. “A real estate agent owns it,” Delia told her as she opened the door. “A woman real estate agent, very nice. The rent is extremely reasonable.”

“I should think so,” Eliza said, gazing about.

“I work for a lawyer just around the corner. He’s the only lawyer in town and he handles everything, wills, estates… and I have total charge of his office. I bet you didn’t think I could do that, did you? You probably thought it was just because I was Daddy’s daughter that I worked in the office at home, but now I’m finding…”

They were climbing the stairs, Delia in front. She wished Belle would hang some pictures. Either that or put up new wallpaper. “Basically this whole floor is mine,” she said, “because the other boarder travels during the week. So I have a private bathroom, see?” She waved toward it. She unlocked the door to her room and walked in. “All mine,” she said, setting her handbag on the bureau.

Eliza advanced slowly.

“Isn’t it perfect?” Delia asked. “I know it might seem a bit bare, but-”

“Delia, are you telling me you plan to live here?”

“I do live here!”

“But… forever?”

“Yes, why not?” Delia said.

She kept feeling the urge to swallow again, but she didn’t give in to it. “Sit down,” she told Eliza. “Could I offer you some tea?”

“Oh, I… no, thanks.” Eliza took a tighter grip on her purse. She seemed out of place in these surroundings-somebody from home, with that humble, faded look that home people always have. “Let me make sure I’m understanding this,” she said.