“Sometimes, I feel like such a clod,” he said, popping his shoes off and rolling up his soiled pants legs.
“So what? You spilled coffee on the table. It"s been done before.”
He looked at the stain on his shirt and pressed his lips together. “Right.”
She rolled her eyes, tossed her sneakers under the log they sat on and got to her feet. She reached her hand toward him. “Come on slow-poke. Time to get your feet in the water.”
He frowned. “Slow-poke?”
“Yeah.” She laughed, and it brought a dim smile to his face. Their eyes locked for a moment, then he turned away and stashed his shoes next to hers under the log.
They walked past the dunes to the water a hundred yards away, pressing their feet into the shifting sand. As they went, the weight of last week lifted from Janet"s step.
He said
