Chapter Forty-Seven
Forty-Seven
Shelby organized her clothes in piles around Hunter’s guest room, wondering how she seemed to have so much more than she thought she’d packed for the summer.
Picking up her belongings from Colleen’s place made the sudden turn of events more real. The entire time, she felt a sinking feeling in her gut. She wasn’t sure what was making her the most upset. To put things in perspective, she called Anders. But he sounded distant on the phone. When she told him she was staying at her friend Hunter’s because of the storm damage, he didn’t invite her to his place instead. It wasn’t that she wanted to stay at his place. But if the situation had been reversed, she would have at least offered.
Although, now that she thought about it, maybe he was insulted she hadn’t gone straight to his place during the storm. She briefly considered it, but didn’t feel comfortable enough yet to show up like that. Maybe that had been a mistake.
“Are we still on for Boston next week?” she said. Before she went back to New York, she had her book reading at the Boston Arts Club.
“Wouldn’t miss it. In fact, I reserved us a suite at the Four Seasons.”
So maybe she was imagining things. Maybe she was projecting. She was the one spending too much time with her ex-boyfriend. She was the one who’d felt a disconcerting little pang when she said goodbye to Justin that afternoon. Anders hadn’t done anything wrong.
And then there was Colleen; she hadn’t answered any of her calls all day. Shelby stopped by Doug’s apartment before meeting up with Justin, but no one answered the door. Colleen was no doubt devastated by her parents’ decision. Shelby wanted to talk to her about it, but maybe it was best to give her some time. What could she really say, anyway? There was no silver lining to this.
She heard the back door slam shut. Hunter was home from work. She needed to talk to her.
“Hey,” Shelby said, walking down the stairs.
“Hey.” Hunter headed straight for one of the living rooms and sank onto a blue velvet Jonathan Adler lounge chair. Shelby followed, sitting on the nearby champagne-colored settee with pointed brass legs. The “second” living room was the least beachy room in the entire house. Maybe Hunter wasn’t feeling the summer vibes today. She opened her tote bag and pulled out a thick manuscript, setting it on a coffee table.
“So, I have a book event in Boston in a few days,” Shelby said. “I’d rather not go back to New York just to turn around again. Is it okay if I stay here until then?”
“Sure,” Hunter said absently. She stared at the floor.
“Everything okay at work?”
“No,” Hunter said, rubbing her left eye and smudging her already smudged smoky liner. “I read the most amazing novel over the weekend. I asked Duke to check it out and he agreed it’s great. So I was like, let’s try to publish it.”
Shelby nodded. “Okay. That sounds good.”
Hunter pulled a vape from her bag and took a hit. She shook her head on the exhale.
“Nope. He’s shutting down Seaport Press. Game over.”
Shutting down? Seaport was Duke’s passion project. She’d never once heard him talk about slowing down, never mind shutting down.
“That’s hard to believe. Did he give you a reason?”
Hunter sank back against the chair. “Distribution issues. I mean, I know the press operates on a small scale but isn’t that part of the charm?”
Shelby sighed. “I don’t know. Clearly, he doesn’t think so. At least, not anymore. But Hunter, you’re going to find a new job. And there are countless other manuscripts out there waiting to be discovered.”
“Easy for you to say.” Hunter leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “What if you lost your publisher, and I told you, well—there are plenty of other publishers out there.”
Point taken. “I’m sorry. I get it. I do.”
Hunter toyed with the gold hoop in her right ear. “I’m rethinking my whole career strategy. I’ve been talking to Ezra. Your agency guy.”
Shelby leaned forward. “Ezra Randall? How do you know him?”
“We met the night of your book launch,” Hunter said, as if it were obvious.
Shelby tried to remember seeing them together, but she was certain she hadn’t.
“At the Red Inn?”
“Well, technically yes. But he was also at the Bollard after.”
She smiled. She couldn’t believe it. But also, it made perfect sense: Hunter was Ezra’s mystery woman. “Why didn’t you ever mention it?”
“There was nothing to mention until now. So, we were talking and he had the crazy-slash-genius idea that I should become an agent.”
“Okay, give me a minute here.” She was still processing the fact that Hunter and Ezra had somehow been together and she’d had no idea. “Wait, so how often do you see him?”
Hunter shook her head. “I’m not seeing him. It was a onetime thing and now we’re friends. The point is, he gave me the idea to look for an agency position. I’d be able to cast a wider net for a new job. What do you think?”
Shelby considered it. Hunter could make a good agent. She was an astute reader, a fast reader, a decisive reader. She knew the market, she had contacts, and she had three years’ editorial experience. She was a workaholic—always had been. She had strong opinions and would be a fierce advocate for any project she believed in.
Her phone rang. It was Colleen.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” Shelby said. “I’ve been trying to reach Colleen all day.” She picked up the call and heard sobs on the other end. Of course. The loss of the store was devastating.
“Hi, Colleen. I’m so sorry. I know it’s a loss. I feel terrible—”
“It’s not the store,” Colleen said. At least, that was what Shelby thought she said. And then, the barely intelligible words “Boston” and “risk.”
Heart racing, she snapped at Hunter to get her attention and put the call on speaker.
“Colleen, slow down. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” Shelby said. Hunter took the phone from her.
“Is Doug there? Put him on.”
Shelby jumped up. “Let’s just go.” She took her phone back and told Colleen, “We’ll be right over.”
Carmen sat in the back office of Lombardo’s in stunned silence for a good five minutes after Justin left. She then walked upstairs to the kitchen, shrugging off the sous chef’s questions about their parmesan vendor. There was only one member of the staff she wanted to see and that was her daughter.
She’d done the right thing talking to Shelby that day in the bookshop. If it weren’t for Shelby telling them the truth, how much longer would they have been in the dark about Mia’s problem? She just wished Shelby had come to her directly with the information so she could have given her an enormous hug. She was sure Justin hadn’t expressed enough gratitude.
Mia couldn’t read.
Carmen wasn’t just upset about the news itself. She was upset because she felt responsible: she too had struggled with reading. She’d been a terrible student. Maybe it was why she was so impressed with Shelby’s work—her strength was Carmen’s greatest weakness. And maybe, just maybe, it was also why she hadn’t wanted to admit all along that Mia had a persistent reading problem: because it was her fault.
The dining room was packed. Mia circled one of the smaller stations near the front windows, delivering a salad course. Carmen waved, but she pretended not to see her. She walked closer so Mia couldn’t ignore her.
“I need to talk to you for a minute,” Carmen said.
“I have the big section,” she said. “One is a six-top. And a customer at table four wants something with no tomato sauce, pasta, or seafood, but they don’t just want a salad. So, later, Ma—okay?”
Carmen took her by the elbow. “Forget about the tables. Come with me.”
They walked to the front of the house, where Carmen directed the hostess to send another server to pick up Mia’s section.
“Why all the drama?” Mia said, following her out the door.
They walked a block up the street and crossed over to the beach side of Commercial where there were picnic tables and benches. Carmen faced the bay and told Mia to sit directly across from her.
“You’re freaking me out,” Mia said. “What’s going on?”
Carmen took a breath. “I know about your reading.”
Mia averted her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Stop it,” Carmen said sharply, then took a beat to soften her tone. “Shelby told Justin. And I’m glad she did. Why didn’t you let us know? We can—”
“Shelby?” Mia crossed her arms “Wow. Justin was right.”
“Right about what?”
Mia shook her head. “I should have quit the bookstore the minute Shelby showed up. I never should have trusted her.”
“This isn’t about Shelby’s trustworthiness,” Carmen said. “It’s about you having a problem and your father and I wanting to help you fix it. But we can’t do that if we don’t know what’s going on. So I’m grateful Shelby said something about it, and I think one day you will be, too.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Mia turned to walk away and Carmen reached out the gently take her arm.
“Trust me.”
Her daughter looked back at her with furious, tear-filled eyes. “I’m not going to college,” she said.
“Fine. I don’t care about that. I care about you. I want you to be happy. And I don’t think you will be until you work on this. Can you give me a chance to help you?”
Mia stood rigid. Carmen gingerly stepped forward, and Mia let her put her arms around her. Neither said another word.