Chapter Nineteen
Nineteen
Colleen made it clear that even though she was physically sidelined, she still intended to be involved with Land’s End. So Monday morning, Shelby picked up coffee and croissants from the Wired Puppy and went to Doug’s for a meeting.
She found Colleen sitting out back in the garden on a cushioned wicker bench shaded by a standing umbrella. The garden was mostly leafy hosta plants, irises, and daisies, with one stalk of bright pink hollyhock blooms. A bumblebee buzzed around it.
“Don’t forget you’re meeting with the publisher of Malaprop Books today,” Colleen said, handing her a printed catalog of their fall titles. Part of her job as a bookseller was to meet with sales reps—or in the case of small presses, the publishers themselves—to learn about the upcoming list and figure out what books to stock for her customers.
Malaprop was the Boston-based book publisher where Hunter had worked before losing her job. The company was small but prestigious, known for its signature book covers, which featured the title in white against a solid cobalt blue background. Their authors were so widely acclaimed, that was really all they needed. Malaprop Press won so many literary awards that the list on their website felt like an infinite scroll. Shelby became familiar with their books in college, and she obsessed over a particular novella called Opaline , back when she aspired to write the type of debut they might publish.
“I know. I got your text. Don’t worry about it.”
Colleen had planned on taking the meeting herself—sitting and talking was one thing she could still do. But her doctor’s office rescheduled her appointment for the same time and she was hoping to hear that there was some improvement in her condition—that the doctor might ease up on the restrictions.
“It’s so frustrating,” Colleen said.
Shelby nodded. “Of course it is. I’m really impressed by how you’re handling all this.” She reached over and squeezed her arm. Colleen’s expression clouded.
“So, what else is on the agenda?” Colleen said.
Shelby checked her phone for notes. Top of her list was the issue of getting beach access. But there was something else she wanted to talk about first.
“I saw Justin at the book event the other night,” she said.
Colleen raised an eyebrow.
“How was that?”
“Fine,” Shelby said. “And Carmen was very sweet.”
“I sense a but ...”
“I met his new girlfriend. Do you know who she is?” Shelby said. It was hard to imagine Colleen didn’t know. But then why not mention it?
“Yes,” Colleen said. “And to be honest, until this very second, I didn’t think about your history with Justin. I only see Kate Hendrik through one lens, and that’s as a threat to my store. But it doesn’t bother you, does it? That he’s with someone new?”
“No, of course not,” Shelby said. “It’s just ironic. Or maybe just...strange. Honestly, it doesn’t matter who the new bookseller is. We need to focus on making things pop for Land’s End this summer. Duke thinks we should petition town council for beach access. I know you don’t have a lot scheduled, but I’d like to wrangle some more events. The Hendrik’s location doesn’t have outdoor space. It’s just one way to be competitive.”
Colleen nodded. “Yeah, he’s been on me about that for a while. There’s just so much to do and I feel like event management is an entire job in itself. Are you sure you can take that on?”
No. She wasn’t even sure she could manage the bookstore inventory. Or write her novel. And she certainly wasn’t confident she could do all of it at once.
“Yes,” Shelby said. “I got you.”
Mondays were beach days for the Seaport Press staff. All two of them.
Hunter and Duke settled side by side on folding lounge chairs on Herring Cove beach.
At nine in the morning, the air was still cool enough for her to wear a long-sleeved T-shirt. They sat under a big red umbrella that said Carnival 2017. Carnival was one of biggest celebrations of the entire Ptown summer. Tens of thousands of people from all over the world descended on the town for a week of parties, parades, costumes, and overall revelry. Every year had a different theme. Her favorite had been a few years earlier, Gods and Goddesses. Hunter had dressed as Aphrodite, the goddess of sexual love.
“What’s the Carnival theme this year?” she said.
“Somewhere over the Rainbow,” Duke said. “Prepare to get your Dorothy on.”
Noted. Hunter pulled a manuscript from her Land’s End tote bag and dug around on the bottom for her red Sharpie. She’d started reading the submission the night before, the fourth she read over the weekend. After drinking way too much with Shelby, she’d spent the next two nights staying in and working.
She felt a little better after spending some time with Shelby. It was easy to demonize someone you didn’t see, but sitting at a bar like they’d done a million times before, looking her straight in the eye, Hunter couldn’t stay angry. She believed Shelby when she said she never meant to hurt her. But she had hurt her, and there was no going back to the way things used to be. That sense of absolute trust was gone. The worst part was that Shelby was one of the first real friends Hunter had ever made—real in the sense that she knew for sure Shelby wasn’t hanging out with her because of her family fortune. While everyone at her Boston high school knew what being a Dillworth meant—the name on three banks, a museum, and a wing at the Boston Children’s Hospital—Shelby didn’t. She’d never even been to Boston.
Duke reached over and handed her the latest issue of Ptownie magazine.
“Check out page ten,” Duke said. “An article by moi .”
“Oooh,” Hunter said. “Is it a gossip column?”
If anyone could write one of those in town, it was Duke. For a few years during the end of high school and early summer, she routinely heard her parents talking over evening cocktails on the deck about a scoop from Duke: the bed-and-breakfast owner who had two granddaughters she never knew show up on her doorstep. The time when the Barros family, owners of Barros Boatyard, exiled one of their elders—shipped off to Florida—because she was such a troublemaker. One summer, a woman moved to town and ended up in a love triangle with one of the Barros brothers and her own ex-husband.
Gossip was fun when it wasn’t about you.
“No, it’s a bit more serious: the housing situation.” He reached over and flipped the pages to his piece.
“‘No Rest for the Weary: Restaurant Staffers Sleep in Cars Amidst Housing Shortage,’” Hunter read aloud. “Are people really sleeping in their cars?”
Duke held up his hands. “Fret not: we’re working on it. There’s a building for sale on the marina. The community trust is trying to buy it to turn into subsidized housing for workers. In fact, there’s a meeting this afternoon if you can come.”
Hunter passed the magazine back to him. “I’m not sure what help I’d be. I don’t know anything about housing or zoning or whatever it takes to make that happen.”
Duke pushed his Ray-Bans to the top of his head and they held back his white hair like a headband.
“Well, I’m working on that angle. What we really need is donations.”
Hunter’s stomach tensed. She sat straighter in her chair.
“I think you of all people know I have a pretty meager salary,” she said, trying to give him a graceful exit from the conversation. She still hoped he wasn’t asking what she thought he was asking.
He laughed appreciatively. “You’re getting paid in experience,” he said. “No, I meant your parents. I know they’re abroad this summer but maybe they—”
“No!” Hunter said. “I don’t ask my parents for money. Not like that. And I never will. So if that’s why you hired me this summer, I’m happy to resign right now.” Yet another person using her for the fortune. She never expected it from Duke, and it was like the breath had been knocked out of her. She pressed her hand to her chest to calm herself.
Duke’s face paled. “Of course that’s not why I hired you. And I didn’t mean any offense. Forget I mentioned it.”
Hunter blinked rapidly behind her sunglasses. She certainly would not forget he mentioned it.