Chapter Fifty-Three
Fifty-Three
After a week back in New York City, Shelby still hadn’t adjusted. She felt as much a visitor in her own town as she’d felt all summer on the Cape. She was back in her “real” life, but her head and her heart were with Colleen. She thought about her pregnancy and her babies every day. The only updates she got were from social media.
“Are you Shelby Archer?” the woman asked, shouting over the loud music. “I adored Secrets of Summer .”
Shelby was back at Union Hall. She’d considered skipping her friend Eve’s party, but thought she’d feel worse just sitting alone in her apartment.
“Thank you,” she said to the woman, who introduced herself as “Wendy from Woodstock.” Wendy had long gray hair and wore a spangly caftan. She ran a famous writing retreat in upstate New York. In fact, Eve had mentioned to her at the beginning of the summer the night she’d been debating whether or not to go to Provincetown. Maybe Shelby should have headed upstate instead.
She still couldn’t believe the way things had gone down with Anders. After her conversation with Hunter that day at the Four Seasons, she had tried to leave before he returned, but she had the misfortune of running into him on her way out. Their messy conversation played out on the sidewalk in front of the hotel.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out about Hunter?” she said to him.
“That’s what this is all about? Hunter is inconsequential to me.”
“You and I were together , Anders!”
“As far as I’m concerned, up until two nights ago in New York, you and I never discussed our relationship in terms of long-term plans. We’ve only just met. I assumed I was free to go about my life, as you have been free to go about yours. Like choosing to spend quite a bit of time with your ex-boyfriend.”
She had to admit, that comment took her by surprise. She’d never have guessed he noticed. But he couldn’t get away with conflating the two things.
“I didn’t sleep with my ex-boyfriend. You did sleep with my friend. There’s a big difference.”
The fact that she even had to go through the absurdity of explaining it to him made her realize the conversation was futile. Better to cut her losses and get away from him.
Her feelings about Hunter were more complicated. Hunter’s night with Anders had been an honest mistake. Hunter was just being, well, herself. In fiction, a character’s actions needed to stay consistent with who they were. Why should it be any different in real life? Plus, Hunter admitted it. By telling her the truth, she saved Shelby from getting in any deeper with Anders. It didn’t change the hurt, and it didn’t mean she wanted to see her or talk to her. But on some level, she did forgive her.
Wendy from Woodstock looked at her expectantly, and Shelby realized she’d lost the thread of their conversation.
“I’m sorry. Where were we?” Shelby asked.
“I wanted to know if you’d be interested in teaching at my writing retreat this fall. You’d only have one class a day and the rest of the time is yours to write your own books. It’s free room and board, and a great community of novelists.”
It was an appealing offer. Teaching would give her days structure, and she liked the idea of writing her next book in a place with no baggage. She missed the writing community she’d had at graduate school, and wondered if that was why she’d struggled to write her follow-up novel.
“I’d love to,” Shelby said. They exchanged information, and Wendy said she’d be in touch soon.
Feeling a little more optimistic, Shelby decided to get her first cocktail of the evening. She walked over to the bar and recognized the bartender—also a writer. She knew she had to count her blessings; she was making a living doing what she loved. If Claudia Linden hadn’t believed in her, maybe she’d be behind the bar that night instead of in front of it.
Before she could get the bartender’s attention, she felt someone close behind her and she turned around.
“Noah,” she said. He looked different. The facial scruff was trimmed and his hair was shorter. He’d traded in his usual jeans and a T-shirt for slacks and a sports jacket. She realized, seeing him for the first time since the beginning of the summer, that she’d barely thought about him. The last time they’d stood in that room together felt very long ago.
“Hey, stranger,” he said. “You look great.”
She let him kiss her on the cheek.
“So do you.”
“I’m really glad to run into you. I’ve owed you an apology.”
She waved her hand, signaling him not to give it a second thought.
“No, really,” he said. “I acted badly. I was stressed out about my manuscript submissions, and I admit, I was jealous of your success. But I have an agent now, and it put things in perspective, and I realize I acted like an idiot.”
“Noah, we don’t have to get into it.”
He smiled. “I know we don’t have to. But I miss you. I was going to text you a few weeks ago, but I heard you were on the Cape for the summer. Are you back for good now?”
Noah’s expression was so hopeful, she almost felt sorry for him. She knew how it felt to realize you’d blown it with someone you actually wanted in your life. It was the pain she’d experienced all summer. Now, standing in the middle of the crowded party, she realized every single person she wanted in her life was three hundred miles away. So what was she doing there?
“No,” she said. “I’m not back for good. Not at all.”
Carmen believed the adage that a parent could only be as happy as their most unhappy child. It explained why she’d felt such a weight on her shoulders all summer, and why she felt such relief now: a doctor in Boston had diagnosed Mia with a treatable type of orthographic processing disorder.
She invited the kids to come to the house for Tuesday night dinner, even though it was the time of summer when they typically abandoned the weekly gathering. It was peak party time for tourists while locals ran on fumes.
“So, I hear you’ll be spending some time in Boston,” Justin said to his sister.
They were in the process of finding her a reading specialist. Ideally, they’d get an appointment with someone based near the Boston Seaport, so Mia would be taking the ferry back and forth a few times a week. In the fall, when the ferry stopped operating, Carmen would drive her.
“I like it,” Mia said. “If I ever do go to college, I want to go there.” She glanced at Carmen.
“That’s a wonderful goal,” Carmen said.
Bert veered off topic, venting his frustration with the town council. She really didn’t want to waste the dinner on local politics.
“Justin, what’s going on with you? Work is okay?” she said.
“Actually, I have news,” he said.
“Oh?” She could tell by his smile that it was something exciting.
“I’m going to ask Kate to move in with me.”
Carmen set down her fork. “Isn’t that rushing things?”
He shot her a look that made it clear her input wasn’t welcome.
“Mom, give it up,” Mia said. “We all know you’re Team Shelby, but it’s time to let it go.”
Carmen turned to her. “And it’s time for you to let go of your anger at her. She did the right thing in telling us about your reading. One day, you’ll be thanking her. Tell her, Justin.”
He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “I came here to talk to you about Kate. Not Shelby. If you want to thank her, you thank her.” He walked his plate into the kitchen, called out a perfunctory thanks for dinner, and left.
Carmen shook her head. Fine. She would thank her.
And then she would try, as Mia so bluntly suggested, to let it go.