Page 2 of The Summer I Stayed
“Really?” Her face lights up. “I think it’ll be good for you, Mom.”
I plaster on a smile. “Is that so?” I tease.
“Absolutely! You’ve been so preoccupied with taking care of me. You need some fresh lake air. Plus, you always loved that place!”
“And how do you know what I need, Miss College Bound?” I retort, playfully poking her side.
She shrugs, a shooting star smile upon her face. “I’m wise beyond my years,” she quips. “Matthew says it all the time.”
Matthew is winning golf tournaments as a new Summit Pro Golfer and Alison is off to an art haven in Savannah, leaving me behind to navigate through my feelings and the memories of our times together in Blue Alder Cove. Though their eagerness for me to find myself again is sweet and heartwarming, it’s also daunting.
I squeeze her hand and smile in return, not quite sharing her enthusiasm. But this is her last week being home, and she just wants to know I’ll be alright.
“Come on, let’s go back to the firing squad,” I joke as I lead us back toward the living room.
As we turn the corner, squeals surprise us. Caroline and Lila stand there with bright, excited faces.
“Did we hear right? You’re leaving Charlotte and going to—” Caroline questions, her brown eyes sparkling withexcitement.
“Yes, Caroline,” I interrupt, rolling my eyes. All of them are so nosy. “I’m going to Blue Alder Cove. You all win.”
They wrap their arms around me and squeeze. I’m like the filling of a friendship sandwich. I lean into their embrace as my heart soars at their kindness and unwavering support. I have amazing friends and children who believe in me even when I can’t.
“This is going to be such a great adventure for you, Mags.” Caroline grins from ear to ear.
I let out a soft chuckle, shaking off the tears threatening to escape my eyes. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Just a quick inspection to see what the damage is.”
“Nope, it’s more than that. You’re about to embark on your journey to rediscovery. Shine, girl!” Lila bounces on her toes and raises her hands.
Their enthusiasm is infectious, but I know it’s going to be hard. The memories of Steven and me are etched into Blue Alder Cove: those long summer days we spent by the lake or when we’d wander around the Summer Festival, hand in hand, browsing through the stalls filled with handmade treasures. Those were our days. Losing myself in the past is a risk I know I’ll have to face once I step foot in that town again.
The truth is, I’m terrified, but they don’t need to know that. Shaking off the melancholy thoughts, I manage an enthusiastic nod. “Okay, shine it is.”
Chapter Two
Jake
I lock up Hollis Hardware, tugging my worn baseball cap low over my eyes. My grandfather built this place from scratch and handed it to my parents when he passed away. Now, it’s my responsibility. Not that I mind much now. It gives me a reason to wake up each day. That, and the oversized mutt panting at my side.
Maverick, my gray Great Dane, lumbers along, his big dumb heart practically wagging his tail off. He’s always with me, whether we’re at the store, at home, or doing odd jobs around town. Doesn’t matter where. He’s better company than most people.
This week’s been a nightmare. A storm tore through, leaving roof tiles scattered, fences toppled, and gardens torn to shreds. My to-do list is longer than the line at Driftwood Diner on a Sunday. We trudge toward the lake houses, where the wind hit the hardest. Some homes are relatively unscathed, but others, like the Wilkes’ next door, look like they’ve been through a blender. Nobody’s livedthere in years, but Gemma said she called the owner. I met him once when he bought the place but haven’t seen him or anyone else at that house since.
It’s a mess—the porch swing has splintered wood and torn upholstery. Windows are smashed, shutters ripped away. Debris clings to the siding like it’s holding on for dear life. I should’ve come by sooner to board up things, but I’ve been fixing half the town. There’s been no time to play hero for an empty house.
A gust of wind kicks up leaves, and Maverick, the genius, decides it’s playtime. He chases them like a puppy half his size, all 150 pounds of him flopping around in the grass.
The front door bursts open with a loud bang, swaying in the wind. I step onto the porch when I hear a loud crash echoing from inside. I look back at Maverick, who’s happily rolling around, and grumble. I take a step inside, bracing myself to find a raccoon who slipped in through one of the broken windows.
An unexpected sight unfolds in front of me: a woman in a floral sundress standing there armed with a hefty piece of wood like she’s auditioning for the major leagues. She’s squaring off with a raccoon that’s helping itself to the contents of a Driftwood Diner container.
I freeze, eyebrows raised. I’ve dealt with intruders before—raccoons, squirrels, even adeer once—but never a human one. Especially not one who looks like she’s come straight out of a summer fashion catalog.
She swings the plank like she’s aiming for a home run. The sudden movement startles me, and I instinctively duck, the board sailing over my head and clattering to the floor behind me. Maverick, naturally, picks this moment to barge in, tail wagging like he’s joining the party. The raccoon, seemingly unbothered by the flying board or the large dog now eying it, continues to nibble at the food.
“Maverick, stay!” I snap, but it’s too late. He lunges forward with a bark that’s more playful than threatening. The woman shrieks as he charges past her. The raccoon finally bolts, scattering fries across the floor like confetti.
The woman spins around at Maverick’s sudden entrance, her green eyes wide. She stumbles back, her foot catching on the edge of the carpet. Her arms flail as she fights for balance. I lunge forward, catching her just before she hits the ground.
