Sherryl Woods - Seaview Inn

Luke studied her intently as she spoke, then asked, “When was the last time you had the time? According to your grandmother, you’re a workaholic.”

Hannah winced but saw little reason to deny it. “Okay, yes, I am, but it’s all there if I want to go,” she said.

“It’s wasted if you don’t take advantage of it,” he said.

There had been a time when she had, she remembered. She’d studied the endless list of gallery openings in the paper and chosen the ones she wanted to attend. She’d gone to free concerts practically every weekend, scraped up money for a balcony seat at the ballet or the latest Broadway musical. Even with money tight, she’d seen to it that Kelsey was exposed to every bit of culture that New York had to offer. When had that changed? Now she had enough money and sufficient contacts to sit front row center at just about anything in the city and she rarely took the time to go anywhere.

“Where do you live?” she asked Luke. “I’ll bet it’s not anyplace like Seaview. I’ll bet it’s a big city that’s bustling with things to do.”

“I was living in Atlanta,” he said, suddenly looking distant again.

“Was?” she repeated, studying his expression for some clue about why he’d phrased it like that. “Aren’t you going back there?”

“Maybe,” he said, then shrugged. “Probably.”

“Why so noncommittal?” Lesley Ann asked.

“Long story,” he said succinctly. “And it’s getting late. I need to get some rest if I’m going to start painting in the morning.”

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