Removing her makeup in record time, she glanced at the clock. Sean should be here any minute now, assuming he still planned to come. When he’d left on Sunday night, they’d agreed he’d come back again for the weekend. So far he’d come and stayed with her every weekend since she checked into The Regency. Since Monday, though, they’d spoken only twice and both conversations had not been quite right. Something about the tone of his voice set off alarms in her head. He’d denied anything bothered him, but the warning bells continued to ring. In fact, their last conversation had only lasted ten minutes, and she’d talked the whole time. Other than hello and goodbye Sean hadn’t added a single word, which even for him was strange. Tonight maybe he’d open up a little.
Warm water trickled down her face and she grabbed the towel. For the first time all day her skin felt clean. Sometimes the makeup artists piled on so much makeup it felt like a mask sat on her face. Scrubbed clean, she pulled on a Patriots T-shirt and a pair of cut-offs. In the past, she’d always felt a need to dress up for her boyfriends, but not with Sean. Around him she could be herself. If she wanted to dress casually she did. If she wanted to leave her hair in a ponytail and stay in her pajamas, that was fine, too. The only other time she felt that free was when she was alone. She loved it and wouldn’t trade it for anything.
With nothing else to do but wait, Mia switched off the bedroom light and wandered into the living room. Considering all the channels on her television, she should be able to find something to watch while she passed the time.
The door opened with a click fifteen minutes later and relief blossomed. “I’ve missed you,” Mia said as she stood. “I thought maybe you changed you mind about coming today.”
Sean dropped his bag on an armchair. “Traffic was bad this afternoon. The Red Sox have a home game.”
“Well, you’re here now and don’t have to think about traffic again until Sunday night.” She pressed her body against his and kissed his cheek.
Sean remained rigid next to her. “Yeah, I guess.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Sean turned his head. “How about we go out? You mentioned those duck boat tours. I checked before I left home. They run until dusk. If we go now we can still catch one. I know there is a stop at the Prudential Building.”
In his current mood she’d get nothing out of him and she’d wanted to take one of Boston’s duck tours for a long time. Maybe when they got back, he’d open up and share whatever bothered him. “Okay,” she said. “Let me grab my sneakers.” She’d learned her lesson on the ghost tour in Salem.
Fifteen minutes later, they stood outside the Prudential Building located in Boston’s Back Bay section, tickets in hand.
“We have some time to kill. Do you want to go up to the Skywalk?” Sean asked.
Mia glanced down at her watch. They did have almost twenty minutes until the next duck boat departed. “Sure. What is it?”
Sean shot her a look of surprise. “You went to Harvard and never heard of the Skywalk? It’s a 360- degree observatory up on the fiftieth floor. On a clear day like this you get an excellent view of the city.”
He hadn’t exaggerated. Mia gazed out of the glass windows. From up here she had an excellent view of what the city referred to as the Emerald Necklace, a ring of parks that included the Boston Common, the Public Garden and several other parks in the city. “This is fantastic. I could stay up here for hours and look at this view.”
“After the tour we can get a drink in the Hub upstairs if you want. The bar windows face the west so you can watch the sunset.” He took her hand and tugged her closer. “Right now we need to get back downstairs if we’re going to catch the next tour.”
The open-air amphibious vehicle referred to as a Duck Boat sat at the curb. As passengers climbed on board a tour guide handed out a duck-beak-shaped whistle for them to use during the trip.
The first time she saw the vehicles on the city streets, she’d been seven, and it had been her first trip to Boston with her family. When the silly looking vehicle passed by, passengers on board started quacking at them with the whistles. Later that same day she’d seen another one pass by, and she’d watched in wonder as it drove right off the street and into the Charles River. After that she’d begged her mom to buy them tickets, but she refused, insisting they’d already spent enough money to get into the aquarium and eat lunch.
Once all the passenger including Sean and her were seated, the duck boat pulled away from the curb and down Boylston street.
“And coming up on our left is the Public Garden and the Boston Common,” the tour guide said from the front of the vehicle. “The Boston Common encompasses forty-eight acres and for over two centuries it has served as everything from a common pasture to a site for the city gallows. During the 1775-1776 military occupation, it even served as a camp for the British troops. The Public Garden next door covers twenty-four acres and was designed by William G. Preston in 1869. If you visit the Public Garden later, stop by the lagoon and rent a swan boat.”
Next to her Sean shifted his position. “Why didn’t you ever do this while at Harvard?” he asked when the tour guide stopped talking.
“My freshman year I didn’t leave campus much and when I did I was usually with either my roommate, Casey, or Sara Sherbrooke. Neither had any interest in going. I did get them to walk the Freedom Trail with me once though.”
“You were living in the heart if the city and stayed on campus?”
“Believe it or not, it was the first time I had ever been away from both my parents. Even when I shot my second movie in London, my mother came with me. So I was a little nervous about being in the city by myself.”
“What about your sophomore year?”
“I landed an internship at the Harvard Museum of Natural History. Between that and my courses, I didn’t have a lot of free time. And after the second semester I left Harvard.”
The microphone on the vehicle crackled to life again. “If you look to your right, you’ll see Saint Paul’s Cathedral,” the tour guide said as the vehicle turned onto Tremont street. “It was consecrated in 1820 and designed by Alexander Parris, who also designed the Quincy Market Hall.”
Happy to just listen to the tour guide, Mia kept silent as the vehicle passed down Tremont street toward the Old Granary Burying Ground. Every once in a while, she’d shoot a look at Sean. Compared to when he first walked into her hotel room he looked relaxed, almost bored in fact. Even with the change she sensed something bothered him. Had he spoken with his father again? Or did what his father shared during their last meeting still weigh on his mind? Either way, he’d feel better if he got it off his chest; at least she usually did. When they got back she’d try to get him talking again.