Dockside at Willow Lake. Сьюзен Виггс
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age.”
She snapped, “Right. Because boys my age are such delightful company.”
He had no answer for that. Greg had kids that age in his counseling group at Kioga this year, and he certainly couldn’t vouch for their social appeal. “You’re one of them,” he pointed out. “You’re in the same peer group.”
“Yeah, lucky me.” She turned to stare out the window, her party dress pulled over her drawn-up knees. Then he realized her tough-girl demeanor had crumpled. He heard a tragic sniffle, saw her hand sneak up to surreptitiously wipe a tear.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he said.
“So is that some sort of a bonus, or what?”
There were few things more daunting to Greg than a crying girl. It was with some relief that he pulled over at the corner of Maple and Vine, went around and held the door for her. She sat unmoving, her arms still looped around her knees. A car trolled past. In one of the houses behind him, a porch light switched on.
He felt a surge of panic. This might look bad, Nina Romano getting out of his car. He quickly turned and went to pull her bicycle from the trunk. She got out, but seemed to be in no hurry to go home.
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