Chapter Fifty-Two
Fifty-Two
Shelby closed herself in the hotel room and turned off her phone. She was deeply shaken. She never imagined Colleen would have a problem with her novel. She’d written the novel as a love letter—to Provincetown, and to the bookshop. She certainly didn’t intend for her best friend to get hurt. After what happened with Hunter and Secrets of Summer , she’d been extra careful to avoid any personal, real-life details. Now it was happening all over again.
The front desk called up. “Ms. Fleming? You have a visitor in the lobby.”
“Uh...okay. I’ll be right down.” Ms. Fleming. She shook her head.
It could only be Hunter. She’d ignored her texts and calls.
The Four Seasons lobby was a dramatic space, with a black-and-white-tiled entry court, brass lanterns, and a front desk in embellished leather backed by an impressionist mural. Hunter paced in front of reception. She was dressed in a black denim skirt and black tank top, her hair pulled back in a clip. Her red lipstick was smudged.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” she said.
“Because I don’t want to talk. Obviously. What’s so important?”
Hunter looked around. “Is there anyplace more private?”
“My room?”
“No,” Hunter said quickly. “Maybe a...lounge?”
The concierge directed them to a bar called the Library. It had bookshelf-lined walls and cognac-colored velvet armchairs. Shelby sank into one, feeling exhausted.
“I know why you’re here,” Shelby said.
“You do?” said Hunter, eyes widening.
Shelby nodded. “I just spoke to Colleen. I swear I didn’t mean to encroach on her life, or her story. I felt like if anything, I was writing about my summer.”
Hunter looked confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But Shelby, I need to say this before I lose my determination to do the right thing.” Her kohl-rimmed eyes were pained. “I totally messed up, and I hope you can forgive me.”
A pretty female server dressed in white with an auburn bob stopped by to take their order. Shelby asked for an iced tea and Hunter ordered a shot of tequila. When she was gone, Shelby said, “Messed up how?”
“I didn’t know you were seeing Anders Fleming.”
Shelby shrugged. What did that have to do with anything? “I’m sure I mentioned it at some point.” The conversation between men at a nearby table grew louder, and she glanced over.
“Yeah, I know now ,” Hunter said. “But I didn’t know on the Fourth of July. And I ran into him at a party that night. And went home with him.”
“You...went home with him?” What was she talking about? Maybe she should have ordered food. The stress about Colleen was making her head fuzzy. “I don’t understand.”
“In my defense, I was a little drunk and he was definitely wasted. It was nothing. It was...”
Shelby pressed her hand to her forehead. She felt dizzy, and bent over her knees for a second. Hunter and Anders? She replayed the night...the texts and phone calls going back and forth. The visit to his house the next morning. Had Hunter been there?
Shelby stood slowly and walked out of the lounge. Hunter followed, but she ignored her, heading straight for the elevator. When it arrived with a ping, Shelby stepped inside and held out her hand to keep Hunter away.
“Don’t. Just...go.”
She’d pack her things before Anders got back from his meeting. She would reach New York by nightfall. And this time, she wouldn’t look back.
Justin wanted to get out of town for a few hours. He rarely felt that way, but he was so disappointed by the news from the town council, he didn’t know what else to do. They’d lost their chance at the wharf building. An offer came in from some corporation. There was no way the Community Trust could match it.
“What’s the corporation plan to do with the building?” Justin asked.
Gene Hobart had turned red in the face. “A resort, I believe.”
It was infuriating. Good intentions be damned, everything was always about money.
At least Kate was happy by the surprise. When she showed up at her apartment, she threw her arms around him. He clung to her, wanting to ground himself in her scent, her voice. Her optimistic certainty that everything always worked out for the best.
Kate lived in the beautiful Back Bay neighborhood, and they moved outside to sit on her apartment’s wraparound terrace. The sky was clear, but heat and the noise of car traffic rose from the street below. Kate poured him a glass of wine.
“We had a setback today with the wharf building,” he said. “A corporation swooped in and bought it out from under the Community Trust.”
“I’m sorry,” she said very matter-of-factly. “But maybe it will be something good for the town?”
The calm demeanor that he usually loved was suddenly maddening.
“I know what’s best for the town,” he snapped. She looked surprised. “I’m sorry. But we need more housing for workers, not hotel rooms for tourists.”
She nodded. “Okay. But didn’t you once tell me that some ecosystems need to work things out on their own?”
“Sure. In nature. But towns aren’t organic. They’re based on economics, and a social pact.”
“Yes. Which makes them imperfect. As any social pact is.”
She was right. Anything created by humans, experienced by humans—was subject to setbacks and problems. Towns. Institutions. Relationships.
Kate moved her chair closer to his. “Maybe this will make you feel a little better: I’m buying Land’s End.”
Justin put his drink on the round side table. “You are?”
“Yes,” she said, sitting on the edge of her chair, her knees together and hands clasped on top of them. “We’re buying the inventory, taking over the lease, and the location will be our Hendrik’s Cape Cod outpost.”
She reached for his hand. “I’m sorry I’ve been so torn all summer. I wanted to be in Ptown for you, but I still had one foot in the Boston store. I don’t like doing anything by half measure. And now, I won’t be.”
He leaned forward and kissed her. She was right. Sometimes, change was good. And there was no sense doing anything by half measure.
He’d ask her to move in with him.