Driftwood Point by Mariah Stewart Page B

inn’s lobby.” She rolled her eyes. “Cannot even imagine what I must have looked like tumbling down. I heard it wasn’t pretty.”
    â€œYou fell down a flight of steps?” When the woman nodded, Lis said, “You’re probably lucky . . .” Lis paused.
    â€œTo be alive? Yes, so they tell me. I did have a few broken bones, though.”
    â€œBut you’re better now . . .”
    â€œOh, much better, dear, and so grateful to be out and about without someone looking over my shoulder. Now, let’s go inside and see what Steffie has that neither of us can resist . . .”
    Later, while walking back to the island, it occurred to Lis that she didn’t recall mentioning to Mrs. Sinclair—Grace—that she was thinking about going back into Scoop for seconds. How, she wondered, had she known? And she’d referred to Ruby as her friend, and said she’d see her again next week, which implied that she’d seen her this week or possibly last week, but definitely recently. What was that all about? Lis couldn’t remember her great-grandmother being that friendly with anyone off-island.
    Though Ruby had made that remark about going to St. Dennis to visit a friend. That must have been Grace Sinclair. Lis continued to ponder the situation all the way back to the island. Since she’d stopped driving years ago, Ruby hated to go anywhere in a car, always said she didn’t trust anyone behind the wheel except herself, so who was picking her up? First the redo of the store, now she’s going off-island and being friends with one of the more prominent members of the St. Dennis community. What the heck was going on with her great-grandmother? So many changes from the woman Lis had known all her life.
    Well, Alec had said changes were coming. Was this what he meant? He’d certainly seemed to have spent plenty of time with Ruby over the past however long it had taken him to renovate the old place.
    Lis was still thinking about what changes he might be foreseeing when the door behind her opened just a crack and Ruby stuck her head out.
    â€œThere’s tuna fish sandwiches in here for lunch, if you’re getting hungry,” she told Lis, “and iff’n you’re not too filled up with ice cream. I’m pretty sure there be more than one color on the front of that shirt.”
    â€œActually, I was just thinking about lunch. And trust those hawk eyes of yours. I did have two different flavors.”
    â€œNothing to be ashamed of. Done that myself a time or two since Steffie opened up that pretty little shop of hers.” Ruby opened the door a little wider. “Come on, then. Get a cool drink of something from the cooler and come sit with me over to my little table and we’ll watch the rest of the island go by.”
    And it seemed the rest of the island did go by the store’s windows over the hour that Lis and Ruby shared lunch on the round table that had served Ruby for all the years since her wedding when she was just fifteen. Lis was surprised at the number of vehicles that went by: a white Cadillac, a Jeep, and two pickups passed within a fifteen-minute period. By island standards, that constituted a traffic jam. Ruby hardly seemed to notice. She’d picked up that morning’s paper, and from what Lis could see, was reading the movie reviews.
    Before they ate, Lis had run up the steps and grabbed a small notebook from her nightstand and slipped it into her bag along with a soft pencil. She kept it next to her plate while they ate so she could begin a sketch of Ruby. Today she would concentrate on getting the shape, the contours, of Ruby’s face right. Later she would work on the features. It had been years since art school—the last time she’d attempted to translate someone’s face to paper—and she wasn’t sure she could do justice to the subject.
    â€œWhat you be drawing