Chapter Twenty-Nine
Twenty-Nine
Anders picked Shelby up in a gray Land Rover with the top down. He parked and walked around to open the door for her. She climbed into the front seat, dressed for the beach in denim shorts and a cropped Madewell T-shirt over her two-piece bathing suit. It could get windy near the water so she pulled her hair back in a low ponytail and tossed sunglasses into her tote bag along with flip-flops.
The Smiths played on the radio.
“I’m glad we’re doing this,” she said, smiling at him. “I’ve been spending most nights writing. It’s good to get out of my head for a few hours.”
It would be a nice change to spend time with someone who didn’t have anything to do with her past in Provincetown. Everything felt so weighted lately. Like the visit from Carmen Lombardo. She combed through her own conversations with Mia looking for any clues that something specific was wrong. The only thing that stood out was an incident a few days ago. Shelby got an ARC—an advanced reader’s copy—of a novel that HarperCollins was publishing in the winter. One of the perks of being a bookseller was getting to read books early. ARCs helped booksellers decide what books to order for the store. But sometimes, the ARCs she was most excited to read were new books from authors whose work she already knew and loved and had no doubt belonged on the Land’s End shelves. That was the way she felt about the HarperCollins book that arrived in the mail, and she gave it to Mia, knowing she felt the same way about the writer. “Let me know what you think,” Shelby said to her, expecting Mia would be as excited as she was to have an early look at a book that was sure to be a bestseller. Instead, she accepted the ARC with something that Shelby could only describe as reluctance. Very odd.
Shelby hadn’t been on a beach date in a long time. She’d forgotten how to dress for it, and after much deliberation settled on faded jean shorts and a white cotton button-down top. It could get windy, so she brought her cashmere wrap just in case. She felt nervous.
Anders picked her up in a dark green Land Rover, the top down. They couldn’t have asked for better weather. She said as much when she climbed into the passenger seat.
“That’s what I was thinking,” he said. “But I’m trying not to put too much pressure on the sunset to live up to its reputation.”
“Oh, as someone who spent every college summer here, I can guarantee it will.”
It was a ten-minute drive to Herring Cove, and they didn’t talk much because of the wind whipping through the car along Route 6. His hair was tousled in the breeze, and she noticed a touch of silver in the stubble along his jaw. He certainly was handsome. But then, for some reason, Noah popped into her mind. This time last summer was when they’d started hanging out. A year later, they were completely done. And she also couldn’t help thinking about Justin. They used to drive the same route, under the same early-evening sun, a night of possibility ahead of them. She glanced over at Anders and thought, This too shall pass . She didn’t know why some people found it so easy to have lasting relationships. She was just certain she’d never be one of them.
Anders pulled into the crowded beach parking lot. Once again, he came around and opened the door for her, then retrieved beach blankets and a cooler from the back.
“Ready?” he said.
“Let’s go.” She smiled and they walked close together but not touching as they made their way across a tarp-covered path towards the water.
The beach was lively, filled with groups of friends and couples set up for their own sunset viewing. There was a festive vibe and she felt happy to be sharing it with Anders.
“I wasn’t sure what you like, so I brought a bit of a mobile buffet,” he said, unpacking crusty breads and cheese and fruit from the cooler. She liked the way he said “mobile” with a long i .
He uncapped a chilled bottle of Pellegrino and poured some into a paper cup, handing it to her.
“My editor told me that beach culture is very different in the UK,” she said, searching for small talk.
“How did that come up?” he said.
“Well, we were talking about foreign rights before the London Book Fair, and she said beach books that succeed here don’t always translate.”
He nodded. “Interesting. And yes, I can see that. My family used to holiday in Cornwall. The water was always quite chilly, and if I recall, the pebbles and stones made it a bit inhospitable.”
She glanced at his profile, his fair skin and the way his hair flopped boyishly across his forehead. It was strange to spend time with someone whose face you’d known from photographs, whose work you’d read for years.
The sun dipped, and magical shades of gold and rose and lavender painted the sky. When they’d finished eating, he suggested they take a walk.
At the shoreline, where the water met the sand, he reached for her hand just as the tide washed over their feet. She felt a shiver, and she didn’t know if it was from the water or his touch.
Then she spotted something in the sand a few feet away. She stopped walking.
A sea turtle was stranded. It was a large one—about two feet long and probably a hundred pounds. It had a triangular-shaped head and a hooked beak that made it look somewhat angry. The top of the shell was grayish-green. She knew, from her summer with Justin, that it shouldn’t be on the beach like that. Sea turtles spent most of their time underwater, surfacing only to breathe. They crawled ashore at night just to lay their eggs. Once, Justin took her to see the hatchlings. She watched the tiny baby turtles race to the water on pure instinct. Justin told her they wouldn’t return to land until it was time for them to lay eggs of their own.
“Look at that,” she said, her voice hushed.
He turned, following her gaze. “What is it?”
“A sea turtle. It shouldn’t be on land like this.” She dropped Anders’s hand to reach for her phone. She needed to report the stranded animal.
There was only one person she knew to call.
Justin invited his family out for Tuesday-night dinner instead of going over to the house. He figured it was a more diplomatic way to include Kate instead of imposing on his mother to cook for one more person.
His parents and sister were already seated at an outdoor table when he arrived. His mother didn’t get up to kiss him hello, which was out of character. He wondered what was bothering her, and figured it was just the restaurant being short-staffed. At least, he hoped that was what had her on edge, and not the dinner with Kate. But no, he was being sensitive.
“Mia, take off your headphones, please,” Carmen said.
Kate turned to his sister. “That was such a lovely book event the other night.” Mia thanked her, but she seemed as lackluster as his mother. What was with everyone?
“Mia, have you been to Kate’s store yet?” Bert asked, turning to give Kate an encouraging smile.
“Uh, no. Because—and no offense, Kate—it’s the competition.”
Justin and his father exchanged a look.
“So,” Bert said, changing topics, “are we all set for the Fourth of July?”
Justin pressed his fingers to his forehead. He’d rather spend another hour talking about the bookstore issue than get into Fourth of July.
“Yes! Let’s discuss,” Carmen said, looking more animated. The Fourth of July was his parents’ wedding anniversary and every year they had a party. She turned to Justin. “How many of your friends do you think are coming this year? I need to start getting a headcount.”
“Actually,” Kate said, placing her hand on his forearm. “Justin and I decided to spend the Fourth in Boston.”
Carmen closed her menu.
“What?”
A server stopped by the table.
“We just need another minute—thanks,” Justin said to him.
This wasn’t just news to his mother—it was news to him. Technically, “they” hadn’t decided. She’d suggested it, and he’d said something along the lines of “We’ll figure it out.”
Carmen looked at Kate as if she’d just announced they were jumping on SpaceX to the moon. Then, to Justin: “You’re missing the Fourth?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Lombardo,” Kate said, immediately recognizing the tension. She glanced between Justin and his mother. “It was all my idea. I just thought since we’re here basically all summer, it would be a good time to slip away for a bit.”
Carmen took a stab at her salad. Justin picked up his own fork, trying to think of what he could say to get dinner back on track. He was at a loss.
He didn’t know if Kate had genuine disregard for his opinion about the Fourth, or if there’d been a miscommunication between them. One thing he did know: if he’d officially agreed to go to Boston, he would have made sure he’d been the one to tell his mother. And not in the middle of dinner. It was a sensitive situation. He didn’t want his mother to think he’d made the decision to miss it lightly.
His phone rang. He reflexively began to send it to voicemail. Then he saw the incoming number: Shelby.
“Excuse me for a minute,” he said and pushed his chair from the table. He walked towards the host stand close to the street. “Hello?”
“Sorry to bother you,” Shelby said. “But there’s a turtle stranded here on Herring Cove.”
He asked her to describe it to him. It sounded like a Kemp’s ridley, one of the most endandered species of sea turtle.
“I’ll be right there.”