Chasing Sunsets Part 39

She sighed as he opened the car door for her. Allowed her to get in gracefully. Closed it. She watched him sprint around the front to his side.

He is trying so hard.

A few minutes later they arrived at the seafood restaurant near the harbor they'd heard about from Walter, one of Gilbert's business a.s.sociates. He'd also told them about the tropical healing balm of the island.

Already a line was forming at the front door of the establishment. Patsy glanced at her watch. It was only five o'clock. She thought they would have been early enough. Maybe the food really was that good.

She waited at the end of the line while Gilbert gave the restaurant's hostess their names. He returned a minute later. "Fifteen minutes. That's not bad."

Over the fifteen minutes, she found herself drinking in the sights and sounds of Cedar Key. Already she liked it here. It called to her, like an old friend, and made her feel as though she'd been here before.

Seagulls soared overhead. Patsy craned to watch them, then lowered her chin to view them through the gla.s.s walls of the restaurant as they dove into the rhythmic waves below.

Gilbert slapped his flat stomach as they inched closer to the inside of the restaurant, drawing Patsy's attention from the white birds to the pressed white of his b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt. "I smell good ol' fried seafood. I think I'll have shrimp. What about you?"

"Deviled crab."

He wrapped his arm around her waist again and squeezed. "Somehow I knew you'd say that."

"You know me well."

"Since you were no more than a pup on a bus."

"Milstrap, party of two?" the hostess called over the heads of the few hopeful patrons left standing in front of them.

Gilbert raised his hand. "That's us."

They entered the restaurant, Patsy behind the hostess, Gilbert behind her. It was all wood and gla.s.s. The walls sported lifesavers and nets with sh.e.l.ls caught between the yarn. Large mounted fish. Stuffed replicas of tropical birds perched on beachwood. It was typical tropical, and to add to the setting, the Beach Boys sang "Surfin' U.S.A." from a jukebox.

The hostess stopped short before turning toward a man in dress casual attire. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said to Patsy and Gilbert. "Just a minute, please, while I ask my boss a question." She returned her attention to the man. "Mr. Liddle?"

At hearing the name, Patsy felt the air suck into her lungs before feeling her intake of breath. Gilbert's hands gripped her forearms.

The man stopped. Turned toward them. Smiled briefly. "Yes, Brenda . . ."

How could it be, Patsy wondered. How was it that here, in Cedar Key, she stared into a face she hardly recognized. And into eyes she would never forget.

Eva Marie Everson is the author of over twenty-five t.i.tles and is the Southern fiction author for Revell. These t.i.tles include Things Left Unspoken and This Fine Life. She is the co-author of the multiple-award-winning Reflections of G.o.d's Holy Land: A Personal Journey Through Israel (with Miriam Feinberg Vamosh) and, of course, the Potluck Club and the Potluck Catering Club series with Linda Evans Shepherd.

Eva Marie taught Old Testament theology for six years at Life Training Center and continues to teach in a home group setting. She speaks to women's groups and at churches across the nation and internationally. In 2009 she joined forces with Israel Ministry of Tourism to help organize and lead a group of journalists on a unique travel experience through the Holy Land. She is a mentor with Christian Writers Guild and the first president of Word Weavers, a successful writers critique group that began in Orlando and has since become the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild Word Weavers. She serves on its national leaders.h.i.+p team.

Eva Marie lives with her husband, Dennis, and their fourth (and final) child, Jordynn. Eva Marie and Dennis are parents to three incredible adult children and the grandparents of the five best grandkids in the world.

Eva Marie considers a trip to Cedar Key the perfect respite.

Website: www.revellbooks.com/signup.

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