"Everything looks the same."
"Places like this don't change very much," he said. "You don't fix what isn't broken."
"You should work for the tourist board."
"I'd happily write them a catchy jingle for their commercials. For free."
Alexis laughed. "You're nuts. I've never known anyone so in love with their hometown."
"Then clearly you haven't met anyone from Pittsburgh." He glanced over the fence. "There she blows. The mother ship."
Alexis stopped and stared at her past. Woodrow Wilson High School. The building looked so small now, apart from a wing she didn't recognize.
"Did they add on to it?"
"Yep. Population boom. It wasn't like they were going to build another high school on the island."
Alexis studied the grounds and the lot for golf carts. It was funny to think of it now, a school where kids rode golf carts instead of a bus or a car. How many people could say that?
"Do you remember Mr. Bodner?" she asked suddenly, having a sudden vision of her old soccer coach.
"He's retired," Tyler told her. "Comes into The Blue Heron sometimes. His wife died a few years ago, but he's been dating Mindy Larkin's grandma so he's not lonely."
"That's a shame about his wife. I remember her. She was sweet."
"Breast cancer." He paused. "She threw a party and made sure to invite all of Mr. Bodner's friends so that he was forced to reconnect with people before she died. She was worried about him becoming the town hermit."
"No man is an island, even if he lives on one," Alexis said.
"I believe that." He fixed his gaze on her. "Do you?"
Alexis fell silent. The truth was that she did believe it, but she felt ill-equipped to build the necessary bridges.
"Let's see if we can get inside," Tyler suggested, breaking into a sprint.
Alexis stumbled after him in her flip-flops. "Tyler, wait!"
She watched as his long, lean frame grew smaller. When she finally caught up to him, he was standing at the top of the front steps, tapping his foot with mock impatience. She, on the other hand, was doubled over with a pain in her side and struggling to catch her breath.
"Someone's gone a bit soft," he said. "I thought city people were all gym obsessed."
"I never had time for the gym," she told him. "Too many billable hours."
"Must be genetics then," he said, admiring her figure. "See, your parents were good for something, after all."
She blushed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "How are we getting in?" she asked, shifting the focus away from her body.
He produced a key. "I have friends in high places."