Page 58 of A Novel Summer
“Excellent. Let’s agree to not miss anything together next time.”
He kissed her, and she felt worlds better than she had an hour earlier.
“I wanted to ask you something,” she said. “I’m going to Boston in two weeks to speak at the Arts Club. Would you like to come?”
He reached for her hand. “As your date? I wouldn’t miss it,” he said.
Shelby leaned closer to him. Everything was better already.
Forty-One
Hunter’s sun hat blew off her head and into her parents’ oval pool. She put down the manuscript she was reading and ran after it, using the long net to pull it back out.
She’d finally found a compelling novel in Duke’s slush pile, and she was too damn distracted to focus. Oh, how she wished she hadn’t sneaked around to Anders’s neighbor’s yard to spy on his early-morning visitor. Whoever said “Ignorance is bliss” knew what they were talking about: Anders was hooking up withShelby? At first, Hunter indulged in a bit of denial: Shelby had simply shown up to discuss something bookshop related. Or a writing issue. But by the time she reached home, Hunter accepted that there was only one plausible explanation: Shelby and Anders were involved.
How could Hunter not know that?Easily, she told herself. It was easy not to know.
She’d been too busy keeping her distance from her old friend. And now look what she’d done.
She felt a little queasy. And it wasn’t because she wanted Anders for herself. Hunter was fine with “one and done.” But she’d gotten so comfortable being angry with Shelby, standing on her moral high ground about the book, that she didn’t see herself making a huge stumble. Whatever Shelby had done to offend her, it was arguably not as bad as what Hunter had done last night. Shelby probably wouldn’t believe her that it had been an accident—that she hadn’t known about the two of them.
Forget about it, she told herself. There was nothing to do about it now. She’d pretend it never happened. Put that one in the vault and move on.
She settled back in the shaded lounge chair and tried to pick up where she left off with the manuscript. It was a domestic thriller with an unreliable narrator, and she couldn’t stop turning the pages. Halfway through, she’d already read enough to know she was going to discuss it with Duke. She wanted to contact the writer and offer to publish her at Seaport Press. It was the first time since she started the job that she’d felt that way about a novel.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming text:Any chance you’re free for dinner? My last night here...
It was Ezra. The agency assistant. She had to give the guy points for persistence. Shaking her head, she turned to the next page of the manuscript. And then, the relentless intruding thought:It’s bloody early for a visitor, wouldn’t you say...
She had to do something to forget about last night. Hunter put down the manuscript, reached for her phone, and texted back that she was, in fact, free for dinner.
Ezra Randall was exactly the distraction she needed.
Carmen was surrounded by her family on the sailboat, yet somehow felt alone. Justin and Kate stood together on the bow, and Carmen tried to reconcile it with last night.
Maybe no one else noticed, but she could tell he had his eyes on Shelby the whole time they were at Land’s End. And when the party moved to the fireworks, he’d fallen to the back of the group in step with her. That was when Carmen lost sight of him, until hours later when she and Bert ran into Justin and Kate at Spiritus Pizza.
“Pull towards me,” Bert called out to Mia. She watched Mia help trim the sails to adjust to the sudden wind. With her curls tousled, no makeup on her face, and the flush in her cheeks, Mia seemed closer to twelve than seventeen. Maybe part of the reason why Carmen was so anxious about her disinterest in college was deep down, she didn’t want her to leave. She wondered if, in some way, Mia picked up on that. Internalized it. It was Carmen’s job to push her a little—to reassure Mia that college was a natural life progression and should be embraced.
The wind lifted Carmen’s sun hat, and she flipped her arms up to hold on to it. The thermos by her feet toppled over.
“Is the weather turning?” she called out.
“A storm system changed direction,” Justin said, looking at his phone. “I just got an alert from work.” He turned to Kate. “If you’re going to Boston, you should go tonight instead of tomorrow.”
Bert said something to Mia, but a gust made it hard to hear. She stepped down from the controls and walked to the back of the boat towards Carmen.
“Dad said to go belowdecks,” Mia said.
Carmen didn’t like the sudden turn in the weather, but she didn’t mind having Mia in a spot where she couldn’t run away from a conversation.
Last night, Carmen witnessed the contrast between “bookstore Mia” and “home Mia.” She’d barely recognized the enthusiastic, confident young woman sitting next to the author, handing her books turned to the right page for signing. Writing down names on Post-its so the author knew how to personalize the copies. Refilling the pitchers of sangria, handing out napkins, folding and unfolding chairs. Taking direction from Shelby, but also showing initiative. Why couldn’t she apply herself like that to school?
Carmen filed in behind Mia, taking the steps down to the cabin. While Bert never involved himself much in their home decor, he’d painstakingly refurbished the interior of the boat, replacing the original paneling with fresh teak, updating the sleeper sofa cushions with modern, marine-grade upholstery that could endure exposure to the elements, and adding brass portholes. Carmen’s minor contributions included nautical-themed needlepoint pillows handsewn by Annie Miller, and a framed compass rose mosaic.
She turned on the overhead LED lights and opened the fridge in the small galley for a thermos of iced coffee. “You did a great job last night,” Carmen said, taking a sip and passing it to Mia.
“Thanks,” Mia said, fiddling with the cap.
