Page 10 of A Novel Summer
Shelby pressed her hand to her mouth. Was she ill? Recovering from an injury Shelby didn’t know about? She closed her eyes, hating herself for being so self-absorbed that she hadn’t noticed something was wrong. And Colleen probably hadn’t wanted to tell her because she didn’t want to ruin Shelby’s book tour. That was so like Colleen!
“Are you okay? Are you...sick?”
Colleen didn’t say anything for a beat, and Shelby’s heart raced.
“I’m not sick,” she finally said. “I’m pregnant.”
Hunter found out the new bookstore was opening by the end of June. She walked to Land’s End to tell Colleen.
“Hey, Mia. Is Colleen around?” Hunter asked the part-timer, a local high schooler on summer break. The girl had to pull her Beats headphones off to hear what Hunter was saying. Colleen wouldnotbe happy to find Mia just hanging around listening to music. Colleen was under pressure to make the bookstore work. Her parents were looking at the summer as a test run. If it went badly, they were likely to go ahead with a sale.
The eighty-year-old bookshop had barely changed since Colleen’s great-great-grandfather, Augustine Miller, first opened its doors. Much of the wood shelving was original, and the tables stacked with books were in the same spot as in the old family photos. One wall had framed vintage, sepia-toned photographs of beachgoers at Herring Cove. Customers could still find a pay phone in one back corner. Handwritten signs, faded from years and bleached from the sun, directed customers to various sections, and an antique iron chandelier hung above the checkout counter. The only thing that changed were the titles on the shelves. And Land’s End customers liked it that way.
“Colleen didn’t come in today,” Mia said.
“Not at all?” Hunter frowned. That was unlike her. Since the day Colleen dropped the shock of the millennium with her pregnancy news, she seemed to be in denial that she’d ever slow down.
“What about managing the store?” Hunter had asked. At the publishing company, one of her colleagues had a baby and went on maternity leave for months.
“I’ve got it all figured out,” Colleen had said, clearly unfazed. “My parents will come in the fall to help with the babies. And while they’re here to help, I’ll hire and train a part-timer. I just need to have a strong sales summer so that I can afford it.”
Now, thinking about that conversation, Hunter felt more uneasy about Colleen being absent. Every day counted towards making or breaking the summer season. That was true for all Ptown business owners. But Colleen’s situation made it seem especially true for her.
Hunter checked her phone for the time. In a half hour, she had a meeting at the Seaport Press office (aka Duke’s living room). Talking to Colleen would have to wait until after work.
She turned to leave, and a familiar blue book cover caught her eye. There it was: Shelby Archer’s damn book on theNew York Timesbestseller shelf.
Hunter walked out.
Nine
At first, Shelby said no. There were so many legitimate reasons not to go back to Ptown, she didn’t even have to make one up: she was on a deadline. She still had a few book events scattered throughout the summer. She didn’t want to live in the same town as her now ex–best friend. Not to mention her ex-boyfriend. Provincetown was tiny—just three miles long and two streets wide. There was nowhere to hide.
But then Colleen told her more: not only was she twenty weeks pregnant, she was expecting twins. And she was experiencing bleeding.
“I’m not in pain or anything,” Colleen said. “But the doctor put me on modified bed rest.”
It was a lot to absorb. The pregnancy alone was a lot.
“Your parents can’t help?” The Millers had retired and were now spending summers in Maine and winters in San Diego. But surely, they’d change plans if Colleen asked.
“If I tell them about the bed rest, they’ll use it an excuse to sell the store. That’s what they wanted in the first place. I’m the one who promised to make it worthwhile to keep it in the family.”
After decades in the book business, Colleen’s parents worried that the best years were behind the store. Still, Shelby couldn’t believe the Millers would actually sell. It was unthinkable. Land’s End Books seemed as intrinsic to Provincetown as the jetty, or MacMillan Pier. Personally, she felt it was as much a part of her literary education as her graduate degree. In some ways, maybe more so. Her MFA program helped her develop the craft of writing, but Land’s End taught her about the relationship between books and readers. She’d seen firsthand how people responded to book covers, observed what they came in asking for, noted when a book’s rave reviews didn’t match customer feedback. The bookselling experience made her think as much about the reader as she did about the story she was telling, and that this set her apart from her classmates.
Shelby wanted to agree to help—to say yes right there on the spot. But Claudia’s directive, still fresh in her mind, held her back. Instead, she told Colleen she just needed a day to think about it.
Now, out for drinks with her grad school friend Eve, it wasallshe could think about. And unfortunately for Eve, all she could talk about.
“It’s not that I don’t want to help Colleen with the store,” Shelby said. “But I can’t take off from my own job. And it’s already questionable if I’ll make the deadline on my next book. Claudia will kill me.”
They were sharing a bottle of pinot noir at a wine bar near Union Square. Eve had tried to change the topic twice asking about Noah. But there was really nothing to talk about there: he’d messaged her a bunch of times, and she’d ignored them. There was no getting past her disappointment in him.
God, she wondered if that was exactly how Hunter felt abouther. She gulped her wine.
The server, a tall, broad-shouldered brunette who talked with a Scottish brogue, checked in with them. Eve opened her menu and pointed to the rosé section.
“I’m going to try that orange one,” Eve said, looking up at her. “You want one, too?”
