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Louis nodded, easing himself back down to the sand. He looked back out at the churning green gulf. The wind was picking up and he zipped his jacket up to his chin. The pink streaks that had promised a sunset had faded, leaving only the gray bank of clouds low over the water.
“I don’t think there’s going to be a sunset,” Louis said.
The Frenchman shrugged. “There will be another tomorrow.” He turned and trudged back up toward the cabins.
Louis watched him go. He looked back out at the water.
Okay. All right. Maybe . . .
Maybe it was time to stop ru
He glanced at his watch. Margaret would be waiting di
He rose, dusting the sand from his jeans. He took one more look out at the water. The sun had slipped below the gray cloud bank. Maybe there would be a real sunset tomorrow.
He would come back and see.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
P.J. Parrish has worked as a newspaper reporter and editor, arts reviewer, blackjack dealer, and perso
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Copyright © 2002 by Kristy Montee and Kelly Nichols
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ISBN: 978-0-7860-1419-4