Windward Whisperings by Kathleen Rowland

degree angle to the house, a new two-car garage was attached with a
breezeway. The garage door was up. A red Ford Escape had replaced her Bentley.
Set at the Shoreline and Sycamore intersection, the cottage carried its own address, 409
Sycamore. A white picket fence sectioned off a front yard with young trees. Grass was arid in spots.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Kitzie behind wisteria vines on the porch. He rolled
down his window and gave her a nod. Dust blew.
Wearing black under a broadcloth apron with sunflower print pockets, she was perched on a
rattan sofa beside her dog. She waved with both arms. With one foot snug behind the other, her legs
were in a long, graceful line. She’d sat like that on the estate house veranda when he’d picked her up
for the winter formal, he remembered.
Soon to be queen, she’d worn a gown of ice blue, so pretty against her caramel skin. When
crowned, she’d stuck him with holding her sequined bag.
He pulled into the curved driveway. In another moment, he walked a flagstone path.
She was delectable, sipping a tall glass of lemonade from a straw. Firelight from the lantern,
suspended by a chain from the porch ceiling, danced over her beautiful face, making her dark eyes
shine with promise. Her dewy-eyed smile got him every time.
Standing at the bottom of the porch steps, he noticed her other hand stroking her knee. Was she
tense? If that were true, he’d take care of that.
“Good evening, Gar. Meet my dog Thor.” With the straw in her mouth, she gnawed at it before
setting the glass on a rattan side table. As she stood, she nudged off her yellow lab, which instigated
a friendly bark.
“Nice to see you. And your only child.” He stepped to the porch. It squeaked under his feet.
Brown-tipped fronds of a palm scratched together from a slight breeze. A lantern moved above.
Protected behind glass, a flame of a candle glowed.
Was she wringing her hands? She put them into use and adjusted a wreath of seashells on a shiny
teal door. Over her shoulder, she threw him a smile he that bordered on flirtatious.
“You have an ocean view from that bay window there.”
“I’ve made a few improvements to the house. The windows are old. Most take some prying and
jiggling to open. The kitchen window is permanently stuck open. In case of heavy rain, I have to
stuff old towels around it.”
“The drought spares you that inconvenience.” He put out his hand for her dog to sniff, but the
dog darted across the porch.
“Thor, stop that.”
“What’s he up to?”
She paused at the doorjamb and let out a frustrated sigh. “He’s chasing a cockroach. I’m battling
them, being close to the beach. I’ve tried to hold them at bay with Roach Motels, but Thor finds
them. He considers them snacks.”
“Roaches don’t give him indigestion?”
“Apparently not. I worry about bacteria within the bug.”
“What about hiring an exterminator?” He watched Thor put his big paw over the gigantic roach.
“I broke down and set up a quarterly schedule. It’s against my antipesticide principles. There are
so many nice little lizards. I shouldn’t feel guilty. It’s all Thor’s fault.” She frowned at her dog.
“You have to give credit where credit is due, though.”
“True. Eating them kills them.”
Garrett looked at the bug legs dangling from Thor’s mouth. “Is his mistress allowed to kiss her
guest hello?”
“Not on the front porch. After finding the microphone, I feel vulnerable.”
“Since when do you care about naughty neighbors?”
“There’s another risk. I’d never serve dinner if I started kissing you.” Her filmy skirt lifted with
an ocean breeze, and she fisted fabric to hold it down.
“You’re sweet.” As she held the door open, he could see a glowing candelabra on the table.
“Entre vous,” she said. “I have an assortment of beverages.” She threaded her way past the table
and through a swinging door.
He took the opportunity to gaze around. Her