Page 92 of A Novel Summer
“You were always ashamed of this giant house,” Shelby told Hunter. “But I wouldn’t be able to get the store ready without somewhere to stay. So, I hope you see things a little differently now,” Shelby said on one of their daily calls. Hunter was busy with her new job and her new boyfriend, Ezra, but they still checked in with each other constantly, leaving Shelby to wonder how she’d managed her own time in the city without their closeness.
“I see a lot of things differently,” Hunter told her.
Shelby walked up Commercial towards Land’s End. She still had another week to go before it was ready to reopen. The storm damage repair was finished, but they were now upgrading some of the shelving fixtures. The bookstore would now make it to its eighty-first summer, and rumor had it that the Hendrik’s was closing next week, after Labor Day. It would not be reopening.
Apparently, Kate’s enthusiasm for a Cape Cod outpost ended alongside her relationship with Justin. Shelby wasn’t surprised: bookselling was a passion business. If your heart wasn’t in it, what was the point?
Shelby peeked at Hendrik’s from the opposite side of the street, keeping in stride with some tourists. The front door opened, and a familiar herringbone blazer caught her eye. It was Anders. His sandy brown hair was cut shorter than when she’d last seen him. She ducked behind a pilaster on the porch of a T-shirt shop, then peeked out again. He held the door, and out walked Kate. They turned in the opposite direction and he put his arm around her.
Shelby covered her mouth with her hand. She hadn’t seen that one coming! The only thing she felt was mild amusement, as if she were watching two characters on a show. It was hard to believe that just weeks ago he had actually been a part of her life.
A block away from the bookstore, she stopped into a coffee shop.
Justin was walking out.
“Oh!” She hadn’t seen him since the afternoon of the Community Trust vote. Doug had been scheduled to go on a research trip for CCS, but since he was on paternity leave Justin went in his place. The research trip must have been days on the water because he was tanner than she’d ever seen him. His forearms were brown against the white of his CCS T-shirt. The color on his face made his cheekbones more defined, and his irises looked like brown velvet. His dark hair poked out from under a blue baseball cap. “You’re back.”
“I am,” he said. “And rumor has it, so are you. You’re going to be sticking around for a while?”
She nodded. “Yep. I’m officially the proud new manager of Land’s End.”
“Congratulations,” he said. They looked at each other for a second. To break the awkward silence, she said, “I’m a little apprehensive about my first winter on the Cape. I hope I can roll with the climate. You’ve told me it can be a test of endurance.”
“I think you’ll do just fine. You’ve proven yourself to be impressively resilient.”
She smiled. “I’ll take that as compliment.”
“As it’s intended. And speaking of climate, they’re about ready to send our Kemp’s ridley down south.”
The turtle she’d found on the beach that night with Anders.
“He’s recovered?”
“She,” Justin said. “We named her Ladyslipper. And yes, she’s ready to go. I’m on my way now to see her off. Why don’t you come along?”
Shelby climbed into the passenger seat of Justin’s Jeep.
The worn passenger seat felt familiar. There was a tiny pebble crack in the windshield just below her eyeline, and the floor mats were faded by saltwater. The local radio station played an old Bruce Springsteen song. Justin cranked it up, looking at her with a smile, singing along. They cruised past the town limits, along marshes and green fields. She watched a slow-moving heron, astonishing with its long legs and curved neck.
“So. You’re staying,” he said, tapping the wheel. “I’m really surprised.”
“I’m have to admit—so am I.”
He laughed. “I don’t think I fully believed it until right now. With you sitting here.”
When he glanced over, their eyes met and she felt herself holding her breath. They didn’t talk for the rest of the ride, letting the breeze and the music fill the silence.
The Marine Animal Rehabilitation Center was a large warehouse building in Wellfleet, complete with an adjacent landing field for emergency animal transport. Inside, it smelled like the aquarium room at the Central Park Zoo. They walked past cinder block walls to the inner sanctuary filled with turtle tanks. The expansive room was filled with round, waist-high, aboveground pools. She counted a dozen or so turtles.
“In the fall, we rescue so many turtles they can’t house the long-term cases. That’s when the volunteer flights taking them to warmer beaches really save lives.”
“Yeah, your gal beat the rush,” said the volunteer who greeted them. She wore khakis and a green MARC T-shirt and blue surgical gloves. She led them to the pool to see the Kemp’s ridley. Shelby covered her mouth in awe.
It was hard to reconcile the robust animal gliding through the water with the stunned, still creature she’d found in the sand. Wildlife was resilient. And now, she realized, so was she.
The turtle swam close to where she stood, surfaced, and appeared to look at her. A number was written both on her shell and on a bright orange tag fastened around one of her front flippers. Her eyes opened and closed slowly.
“You’re lucky to have a second chance,” Shelby said softly.
