Page 37 of A Novel Summer
Something familiar churned in her gut, something feral and unpleasant. The way Anders and Shelby interacted, it was like they were the only two people at the party. Shelby had always been a man-magnet. And in college, Hunter was all for it. She herself never had any problems getting guys. And she’d certainly never had a problem with her best friend. Until the summer after senior year. Their last together in Provincetown.
Shelby crossed the lawn towards her. Hunter glanced at the folding chairs where she’d left her handbag, and politely extricated herself from the arts center administrator.
“I just need to get my bag,” she said when Shelby reached her.
“Actually, change of plan. I’m so sorry, but Anders doesn’t want to do a group thing.”
Hunter felt a pounding in her ears. Her mouth was suddenly dry.
“Oh, it’s whatAnderswants?”
“Yeah. I spoke to him and—”
“You are so fucking predictable,” Hunter said. She backed away, then stumbled over a rock on her way to get her bag.
It was impossible to say who met Justin Lombardo first. They’d all been together that night four years ago—Shelby, Colleen, and herself. But Hunter was certain she’d had the initial conversation with him. They’d gone to a big group dinner after Justin gave a lecture about warming oceans or fish migratory patterns or something else to worry about. Honestly, it had been a little boring. But he was great to look at, the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome with a seriousness that bordered on brooding.
Justin was different than most guys she knew. He was older, he clearly had his life together, and most impressive of all, he seemed completely unaware of his own hotness. At dinner, she’d been seated right next to him. By the time the server cleared the metal pizza trays and Carmen ordered a gelato sampler for the table, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. But she got the sense he saw her as just a college kid. He wasn’t condescending, but he’d made a few offhand comments to that effect. She’d wondered who he was sleeping with, what woman had somehow found herself worthy of his attention. Hunter imagined she was brilliant and obsessed with the environment and pretty but not beautiful and possibly in her thirties.
She didn’t say anything to her friends about her crush on Justin. It felt a little ridiculous. And she was certain by the time she was into the groove of senior year, he’d be forgotten. In some ways, he was. But as a new summer approached, she found herself thinking about him again. Checking his social media. Imagining when and how she’d run into him back in Ptown. As a college graduate, she was an adult worthy of being taken seriously. She briefly contemplated removing her nose piercing.
But in the end, all the fantasizing and analyzing was a waste of time. A few weeks into their new summer, she and Shelby were outside late at night on the deck of her parents’ house, sharing a bottle of wine and settling into their end-of-night download—something they’d been doing for the past four years. Hunter had gone to a dance party with Colleen at the Boat Slip, but Shelby had been MIA.
“Where were you tonight?” Hunter asked.
Shelby let out a sigh, a dreamy sort of exhale that made Hunter sit up straight in her chaise longue.
“I met someone. Actually, I met him last summer. We both did. Remember that guy who gave a lecture at Town Hall?”
Hunter’s heart began to beat fast. She couldn’t form the wordyes. She didn’t have to—the question had been rhetorical.
“We met again during the night of the blackout, when we were both helping out. We’ve started...spending time together. So that’s where I was. He’s...amazing.”
Hunter had no right to be upset. She’d never shared her feelings about Justin with Shelby. And so she swallowed her jealousy and willed herself to be okay with it. And that became easier as she saw Shelby and Justin together, how they clicked. How right they seemed. And she could live with it because some things were just meant to be.
But then, at the end of the summer, Shelby dumped him. Her move to New York City was more important. Her writing was more important. And it seemed to Hunter like such a waste. Like growing a beautiful garden and then refusing to water it. But then, that was Shelby: nothing was sacred. Not a boyfriend. Not a best friendship. All she cared about was her own success.
Of course Shelby was going to dinner with Anders Fleming alone. He was a major literary figure. He could probably help her career. For Shelby Archer, that was all that mattered.
All that had ever mattered.
The restaurant was a new Greek place with only six tables, tucked away on a side street off Bradford. Over a bottle of surprisingly potent red wine, Anders told Shelby about his upper-middle-class upbringing, his time at Oxford. She shared her rootless army brat childhood and the feeling, during four consecutive summers of undergrad, that Provincetown was the first “home” she’d ever had.
“But I’m curious,” he said. “You have a bestselling novel out this summer. What made you decide to work at the bookstore instead of focusing on promotion?”
She didn’t want to get too much into Colleen’s personal business, so she just said, “I’m helping my friend. The woman who did your introduction tonight. Colleen Miller.”
They talked about literature and New York City and the vagaries of the publishing industry. In the glow of flickering candlelight and the buzz of alcohol, Shelby couldn’t deny how attractive she found him. He was older, accomplished, distinguished. Worldly in a way the guys she met in New York didn’t seem to be. Maybe it was the accent. She didn’t care to overanalyze it.
And the way he asked questions! He looked at her with such focus, it was as ifshewere the literary giant.
“How do you like working with Claudia Linden?” he said.
“I feel lucky she’s my agent,” Shelby said. “Claudia’s the best.”
“You know, she rejected me when I queried her. Fifteen years ago almost to the month.”
“No! I find that very hard to believe.” How could an agent take her on as a client but reject a talent like Anders Fleming?
