“You sent away for stuff?” Ty laughed. “Who does that?”

“I do,” Ellis said. “I don’t like surprises. And anyway, they usually have good coupons. You know, for, like, a free appetizer or dessert.”

“I thought all women loved surprises,” Ty said. “Anyway, you won’t find Fish Food in a restaurant guide. And I’m pretty sure they don’t give coupons. This is kind of a local place. Eddie, the chef, used to wait tables at a restaurant I worked at in high school. He’s got kind of a squirrely sense of humor, but he knows his way around the kitchen.”

The waitress came, and Ty asked Ellis if she wanted a drink. “I’ll have a Blue Dawg—you’ve got that on draft, right? And she’ll have…” He looked over at Ellis, trying to remember what she’d ordered Sunday night, at Cadillac Jack’s. “A cosmo, right?”

They chatted aimlessly until the waitress was back with their drinks and the menus.

“What’s good here?” Ellis asked, looking down at the grease-spattered photocopied sheet of paper.

She was sitting up very straight in her chair and was fiddling with the ribbon that seemed to tie her top together in the front. When she wasn’t trying to hike the top up to keep her breasts from further spilling out, she was tugging at the hem of her short skirt, which was a lost cause anyway. The skirt barely brushed the tops of her thighs, which were lightly dusted with freckles, as was her nose, or what he could see of her nose underneath the layer of sparkly powder covering it. Ty’s fingers itched to reach across the table and yank at both ends of the ribbons, just to see what would happen. Was that pink lace bra thing attached to the girdle-looking top she was wearing? He decided that would need further study.

“Ty? Oh my God, is that really you?”

He looked up. Kendra and Ryan were standing, waiting to be seated at the next table over. He felt the blood drain from his face. And now Kendra was actually coming over to their table, with Ryan, that fuckhead, trailing right behind.

Kill me now, Ty thought. Right here.

“It is you,” Kendra said shrilly. “All dressed up in your Sunday best.”

Ty Bazemore had been “raised right,” at his mother’s and grandmother’s insistence. Two years of cotillion, relentless etiquette drilled into him. You addressed your elders as “sir” and “ma’am.” You stood when a lady entered the room, and you greeted a gentleman by looking him in the eye, smilingly, with a firm handshake. Reluctantly, Ty stood. “Hi, Kendra,” he said, his face expressionless. He nodded in Fuckface’s direction. “Ryan.” He would not shake Ryan’s hand. If his mother had been alive, even she would have understood. If his grandmother had been alive, she would have applauded, or maybe smacked Fuckface across the face with her ever-present flyswatter.

“Hey, dude!” Ryan, clueless, held out his hand, but when Kendra shot him a withering glance, he dropped it back to his side.

“How are you?” Kendra gave him a hug, standing on her tiptoes, even in heels, to do it. He was enveloped in a toxic cloud of her signature scent, which, to him, smelled like overripe pineapples.

“Just fine,” Ty said, extending only a wooden, one-handed half hug. When she finally released him, he took a step backwards, just in case Fuckface got any ideas. He would throw away this blazer and shirt when he got home. If he got out of here alive.

“Really?” Kendra said, frowning. “You’re sure? I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. Ever since we moved back. Did you know? Daddy finally talked me into joining the firm. Of course, I think he only did it because he knew he’d get Ryan as part of the package. A twofer, he calls it.”

“Great,” Ty said. “Congratulations.” If there was a bigger, more pompous asshole than Boomer Wilcox on the Outer Banks, Ty had never met him. Ryan and Boomer deserved each other.

“We heard you’re day trading,” Kendra said, her voice oozing concern. “I know that’s got to be tough in this economy, right?”

“It’s all right,” Ty said, managing to unclench his teeth. “You win some, you lose some.” He looked desperately around the room, hoping that something, somehow, would make this horror show grind to a halt. A lightning bolt, maybe. But he’d settle for a minor grease fire.

And now he saw Ellis, still seated, looking up at him, smiling expectantly. In his mind’s eye, he could see his grandmother’s flyswatter hovering at the back of his neck, just waiting to deliver a smack, should he forget his upbringing.

“Kendra, Ryan, this is Ellis, my, uh, friend.”

“Oh, hi,” Kendra said, her voice going up a decibel. “Alice?”

“Actually, it’s Ellis,” Ellis said. “With an E.”

“Hiya, Ellis,” Ryan said, automatically extending his hand. Ellis, who had apparently also undergone some rigorous training—and who, after all, had no history with Kendra or Fuckface—stood, smiled radiantly, and shook both their hands.

“Ellis is such an unusual name,” Kendra was saying. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met a woman named Ellis before. Are you from around here?”

“No,” Ellis said, “I’m originally from Savannah. My friends and I are visiting here for the whole month.”

“How did you happen to pick the Outer Banks for vacation?” Kendra asked. “I mean, of course, we adore it, but then, I grew up here.”

“It was sort of a compromise,” Ellis explained.

“Wonderful!” Kendra trilled. “Where are you staying? Here at Duck?”

“We’re staying down at Nags Head,” Ellis said.

Ty felt his scalp prickle at the mention of Nags Head. A slow dread started to work its way south. He knew what was coming, and he was powerless to stop it.

“Oh!” Kendra said. “Nags Head. That’s my old stomping grounds, you know. Mama and Daddy have Cedar Haven. Do you know it? It’s that huge, rambling, old pile of junk on the Beach Road.”

Ryan wrapped a proprietary arm around Kendra’s waist. “She calls it a pile of junk,” he said with a chuckle. “What she doesn’t tell you is that Cedar Haven is one of the original houses on Nags Head. There’s only about a dozen of ’em. The ‘unpainted aristocracy,’ they call them. It’s a showplace. Five thousand square feet, and it sits on an ocean-side double lot. Her grandfather built the first swimming pool on Nags Head there.”

“I think I know that house,” Ellis said excitedly. “It’s about a mile from where we’re staying. On Virginia Dare, right?”

Don’t say it, Ty pleaded silently. Do not go there.

“Where are you staying?” Kendra asked.

“The house we’re renting is kind of a dump,” Ellis confided. “I mean, it could be wonderful, but it hasn’t really been maintained in a while.”

Ty looked frantically around the dining room. The waitress was approaching with a basket of bread and a cruet of olive oil. Deliverance. He wanted to kiss her on the lips.

“Hey, listen,” he said. “Here comes our bread. We don’t want it to get cold. They have awesome yeast rolls here. Eddie makes them himself.” He pulled Ellis’s chair away from the table and practically shoved her into it. “Good to see you guys,” he said, giving Kendra and Ryan a dismissive nod.

Kendra gave him an odd look, but she allowed herself to be herded back to her table.

“They seem nice,” Ellis said, helping herself to one of the yeast rolls.

If you only knew, Ty thought.

Dinner was agony. He ordered for both of them, and he tried to act normal. But every time he looked at Ellis, he saw the table just behind her. Kendra and Fuckface, laughing, talking, their golden heads bowed together. Every once in a while, Kendra would see him looking, and she’d lean in closer, her hand hiding her mouth, whispering something in her husband’s ear. They were talking about him, he knew. Mocking him in his yellowing dress shirt and frayed college graduation blazer with the sleeves just a quarter inch too short. His stomach burned.

Their entrées took a lifetime to arrive. He couldn’t have said what he ordered. It was hot, and it was vaguely seafoodish looking. Somehow, he managed to choke it down. Ellis picked at her broiled swordfish, nibbling delicately at the steamed broccoli and the couscous on her plate.