Page 3 of A Novel Summer
It would be okay. She hadn’t moved to New York City to find a boyfriend. She’d moved there to become a writer. Tomorrow was the beginning of her first book tour. Writing was the most important thing.
She’d known that all along.
Three
Shelby would have preferred to go on book tour alone. No—scratch that. She’d have preferred to go with Noah. But after he bailed out, she didn’t want company. And she certainly didn’t want Ezra, the assistant. She appreciated the support from the agency, but it felt weird to travel with someone who was being paid to go. When the ferry left from Boston Harbor, she kept asking Ezra if he was okay—as if she were there to assisthim.
The five-hour train ride from New York to Boston had given her plenty of time to get to know Ezra Randall. He was a year younger, from Miami, graduated from NYU, and was ambitious about a career as a literary agent. He told her that when he was in high school, he saw a movie about a famous author and his literary agent.
“I remember watching it,” he said, “and thought, okay I can’t write, but Icando whateverthatis.”
He told her about the recent breakup with his girlfriend, who informed him that she’d decided she only wanted to date guys who could “help support her lifestyle.”
“What does that mean?”
Ezra shrugged. “Finance, I guess.”
“I feel your pain,” she said. “Relationships seem impossible. Too little success, too much success...you can’t win.”
She was disappointed about Noah, but not heartbroken. She wasn’t in love with him—at least not yet. She could tell the difference because she didn’t sleep for weeks after her last breakup, and the breakup had been her own choice.
On the plus side, making the trip without Noah would give her more time to reunite with her old friends. That reminded her: she still hadn’t heard back from Hunter. Shelby pulled her phone out of her bag and texted her again.
Hey, still hoping to connect. I’m on the ferry now
Shelby hadn’t seen Hunter since they’d both moved from Provincetown, and it had been a while since they’d spoken, their communication having dwindled mostly to app messaging. Shelby had planned to visit her in Boston once or twice, and every summer there’d been talk of reuniting with Colleen in Cape Cod. But something always came up. And the next thing she knew, years had slipped by. But Colleen told her that Hunter had moved back to Ptown for the summer.
The ferry hit a bumpy patch and water sprayed the back of her hair. Normally, this wouldn’t bother her—she was, after all, on the way to the beach. But getting windblown and damp wasn’t ideal; she’d barely have time to change before the book reading.
“I’m getting soaked. Might have to give up the view,” she said.
“I’ll go below with you. Is it too early for a beer?” he said.
“Don’t let me stop you,” Shelby said.
“Just kidding. I’m on the clock.”
Shelby smoothed down her damp hair and followed the narrow stairs down to the lower cabin. The railing was slick, and she wiped her wet hand on her shorts.
From the cabin window she spotted the Pilgrim’s Monument and felt a surge of excitement.Home, she thought, then corrected herself: Provincetown was no longer her home. Never had been, really. It had been a waystation on the road to her real life. It had served a purpose, a great one. But ultimately, Shelby had always been just a visitor. And she was fine with that.
It was a lovely place to visit.
Land’s End Books was a small space, so Shelby’s publicist helped Colleen coordinate theSecrets of Summerevent at a historic hotel overlooking Cape Cod Bay.
Three years ago, Shelby worked at Land’s End with Colleen, side by side almost every day, matching the right book to the right reader. And the entire summer, she’d dreamed of the day when her own novel was on the shelf. Now, that day had arrived.
The dining room of the Red Inn, with its panoramic views of the bay, was filled with tables populated by a mix of Cape Cod readers, some dressed in Tory Burch sarongs and Lilly Pulitzer dresses, others in jeans and Provincetown hoodies.
“Welcome, everyone,” Colleen said. Shelby stood beside her, taking in the sight of her old friend. It had been ages since they’d seen each other in person, but she hadn’t changed a bit. Her straight blond hair was cut to a sensible shoulder length. She wore denim overalls and a white T-shirt and beaded bracelets on both wrists—the type they sold in shops all over town. The bridge of her nose was a little sunburned, and to Shelby, it was like not a day had passed since she last saw her on that beach. Colleen looked a little heavier, but Shelby had probably just been in Manhattan too long. Some of her friends there seemed to exist on caffeine alone.
She inhaled. It felt good to be back. Well, it feltmostlygood. She found herself scanning the crowd for her old Provincetown boyfriend. It was irrational; Justin Lombardo wouldn’t show up at her book event. They hadn’t spoken since the night she ended things just before moving to New York City. She could still remember the way his face looked that day on the beach, the way he seemed sad, but more sadforher than sadbecauseof her. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he’d said.
Well, she had. She’d become a novelist.
She’d never doubted that she’d done the right thing in ending the relationship. Long distance never worked. Someone, ultimately, would have to give in. And she knew in her situation with Justin, neither one of them could be that person. Still, she was surprised by how long it took for her to stop missing him. After relocating with her family so much in her young life, she thought she’d learned how to move on without looking back.
One person she was more likely to see in the crowd was Hunter. But scanning the rows, she didn’t see her, either. She lived in Boston now, working as an editorial assistant at a publisher called Malaprop. But Shelby had hoped she’d come in for the party.
