Page 75 of A Novel Summer
Wendy from Woodstock looked at her expectantly, and Shelby realized she’d lost the thread of their conversation.
“I’m sorry. Where were we?” Shelby asked.
“I wanted to know if you’d be interested in teaching at my writing retreat this fall. You’d only have one class a day and the rest of the time is yours to write your own books. It’s free room and board, and a great community of novelists.”
It was an appealing offer. Teaching would give her days structure, and she liked the idea of writing her next book in a place with no baggage. She missed the writing community she’d had at graduate school, and wondered if that was why she’d struggled to write her follow-up novel.
“I’d love to,” Shelby said. They exchanged information, and Wendy said she’d be in touch soon.
Feeling a little more optimistic, Shelby decided to get her first cocktail of the evening. She walked over to the bar and recognized the bartender—also a writer. She knew she had to count her blessings; she was making a living doing what she loved. If Claudia Linden hadn’t believed in her, maybe she’d be behind the bar that night instead of in front of it.
Before she could get the bartender’s attention, she felt someone close behind her and she turned around.
“Noah,” she said. He looked different. The facial scruff was trimmed and his hair was shorter. He’d traded in his usual jeans and a T-shirt for slacks and a sports jacket. She realized, seeing him for the first time since the beginning of the summer, that she’d barely thought about him. The last time they’d stood in that room together felt very long ago.
“Hey, stranger,” he said. “You look great.”
She let him kiss her on the cheek.
“So do you.”
“I’m really glad to run into you. I’ve owed you an apology.”
She waved her hand, signaling him not to give it a second thought.
“No, really,” he said. “I acted badly. I was stressed out about my manuscript submissions, and I admit, I was jealous of your success. But I have an agent now, and it put things in perspective, and I realize I acted like an idiot.”
“Noah, we don’t have to get into it.”
He smiled. “I know we don’t have to. But I miss you. I was going to text you a few weeks ago, but I heard you were on the Cape for the summer. Are you back for good now?”
Noah’s expression was so hopeful, she almost felt sorry for him. She knew how it felt to realize you’d blown it with someone you actually wanted in your life. It was the pain she’d experienced all summer. Now, standing in the middle of the crowded party, she realized every single person she wanted in her life was three hundred miles away. So what was she doing there?
“No,” she said. “I’m not back for good. Not at all.”
Carmen believed the adage that a parent could only be as happy as their most unhappy child. It explained why she’d felt such a weight on her shoulders all summer, and why she felt such relief now: a doctor in Boston had diagnosed Mia with a treatable type of orthographic processing disorder.
She invited the kids to come to the house for Tuesday night dinner, even though it was the time of summer when they typically abandoned the weekly gathering. It was peak party time for tourists while locals ran on fumes.
“So, I hear you’ll be spending some time in Boston,” Justin said to his sister.
They were in the process of finding her a reading specialist. Ideally, they’d get an appointment with someone based near the Boston Seaport, so Mia would be taking the ferry back and forth a few times a week. In the fall, when the ferry stopped operating, Carmen would drive her.
“I like it,” Mia said. “If I ever do go to college, I want to go there.” She glanced at Carmen.
“That’s a wonderful goal,” Carmen said.
Bert veered off topic, venting his frustration with the town council. She really didn’t want to waste the dinner on local politics.
“Justin, what’s going on with you? Work is okay?” she said.
“Actually, I have news,” he said.
“Oh?” She could tell by his smile that it was something exciting.
“I’m going to ask Kate to move in with me.”
Carmen set down her fork. “Isn’t that rushing things?”
