Chapter Fifty-Six
Fifty-Six
Justin made dinner reservations, but Kate was running late at the bookstore. Evidently, she was learning what every vendor in town figured out sooner or later: summer hours of operation tended to be viewed more as suggestions than regulations.
He recognized a few of the people browsing the Hendrik’s shelves as being Land’s End customers, locals like Walter Tegan, a balding former linguistics professor who always dressed in a white polo shirt, denim shorts, and suspenders.
“I’m looking for a book,” Walter said to Kate. “The cover is green.”
When Kate didn’t find that to be enough information to go on, he became irritated.
“Colleen would know what I mean,” Walter said.
“I’m sure Kate will be able to help you if can think of what the book’s about, or maybe one word of the title?” Justin suggested.
Walter shook his head and walked out.
Kate frowned. “Not exactly a satisfied customer.”
“Can’t win ’em all,” he said, leaning over the counter to kiss her. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
After Kate managed to close shop, she told him that her last few customers were tourists, and that she could always tell the difference between locals and visitors because the visitors didn’t ask what happened to Land’s End.
“They seem to almost resent me,” she said. “But I didn’t put Land’s End out of business. It was the flood. It’s a strange customer dynamic I’ve never experienced before.”
“It will improve in time. People will just be happy to have a bookshop. I can’t imagine this town without one.”
“And now they’ll have two.”
Justin was confused. “You’re keeping your current location and the Land’s End space?”
Kate flushed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ears. It was a habit of hers, and it always slipped right back to hang straight along her cheek. He usually found the familiar gesture endearing. “Let’s talk over dinner,” she said, seeming almost flustered.
“I’d rather talk now.” He stopped walking. “What’s going on?”
She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear and avoided his eyes. “My brother, Karl, is opening a hotel here. I’m planning to have a boutique bookshop in the lobby catering to his clientele—beach books, some nonfiction about Provincetown, postcards—that sort of thing.”
Justin was confused. He didn’t presume to know everything that was happening in town, but after all his town council meetings, how could he have missed the news of a new hotel development? Unless...
“Don’t tell me your brother bought the wharf building,” he said slowly.
“No,” she said. “My father did.”
“Your father?” He thought back to their lunch with Martin Hendrik at Fishtail. What was it he’d said about Ptown? Untapped potential. Justin still remembered the comment because it was the opposite of the way he viewed Ptown. “So, your father bought the building you knew we were trying to turn into affordable housing? Did you ever think to mention that to me? Or better yet—tell him to back off?”
“You’re making this personal,” she said.
“You made this personal when you stood by as your father took it out from under us, and you made it even more personal by not telling me after the fact. How could you lie to me?”
“I didn’t lie to you. I just didn’t talk about my family’s business plans. Just because we’re together doesn’t give you a right to that information.”
He couldn’t believe she could say that with a straight face. “When I told you, the other night in Boston, that we lost our bid for the building, you looked me right in the eye with some platitude about how it might be something good for the town.”
“It’s hard for visitors to find places to stay, too. A new hotel’s not bad for the town.”
“Who’s going to serve food and sell clothes and coffee to all the tourists filling yet another hotel?”
She shrugged, and he understood she didn’t care. It wasn’t her problem. And he realized her decision to turn Land’s End into Hendrik’s, to stay in town, had nothing to do with investing in their future together. It had purely been a business decision—and possibly not even her own.
“I’m going to pass on dinner,” he said.
She appraised him coolly. “I understand.”
No, she didn’t. And clearly, she never did.
Backyard Movie Night was a fundraiser for the Provincetown Film Society. Two dozen people gathered on the lawn of the historic Mary Heaton Vorse house to watch the early-’90s film The Prince of Tides . Hunter bought tickets at the beginning of the summer and planned to go with Colleen and Doug. Instead, she brought Duke and Max.
The air was herbal and salty, a scent that brought Hunter back to her earliest memories of the Cape. All around her, people chatted and unpacked picnic baskets and a contented hum filled the air. Hunter could barely sit still. All she could think about was Shelby, and the look on her face when she’d confessed about Anders.
“I wish I’d been here back in the day,” Duke said. “This house used to be the center of it all . Any night of the week, you might find yourself rubbing elbows with Eugene O’Neill or Sinclair Lewis...”
Hunter wasn’t following him; she was lost in her own thoughts. When she wasn’t ruminating over Shelby, she was thinking about a call she received from Ezra that morning: Paragon had a job opening for an assistant. He gave her the contact information for the HR person she needed to email. “But jump on it,” he’d said. “The gig isn’t even posted yet.”
“It’s very cool of you to think of me,” she’d said. “But I told you I’m only looking for jobs in Boston.”
“This is Paragon ,” he said. She knew he was right. Still, twenty-four hours later, she hadn’t emailed her résumé. Hunter felt like a poser wearing her vintage Blondie T-shirt. She had no right to wear images of rock rebels when she herself played life so safe.
“You really should read the novel after you see the movie tonight,” Duke said . “There’s no one like Pat Conroy.”
Hunter, as a rule, did prefer to read the book before seeing the movie. But the author they were talking about had never been on her radar.
A deeply tanned guy around her age wearing a shark-patterned golf shirt handed out snack trays of artisanal crackers, apple wedges, Stilton, and mini-wine bottles. The sun started to set, but it wasn’t dark enough yet to begin the film. She was impatient for the distraction from the Paragon dilemma.
Why was she so intimidated by New York City? She knew plenty of people from school who’d ended up there and were successful. Just look at Shelby. The thing was, all her life in Boston, whatever room she was in, people assumed she was only there because she was a Dillworth. If she moved to New York and failed, she’d be proving them right.
“You guys?” she said, interrupting their debate over whether Pat Conroy’s best novel was The Great Santini or The Lords of Discipline . She told them about the Paragon job opening, and they were quick to weigh in.
“It would be madness not to apply,” Duke said. Max agreed, and said he’d be happy to be a reference for her. They made it sound so simple. Maybe it was.
Mia Lombardo wandered over from where she’d been sitting with her parents. Hunter hadn’t seen her since the flood shuttered Land’s End.
“How’s Colleen?” she said. “I messaged her, but I haven’t heard back. And I really miss the store. But I haven’t told her that. Obviously.”
Hunter’s phone rang. She’d meant to silence it, but was glad she hadn’t when Shelby’s name appeared on the screen. They hadn’t been in touch at all since the conversation at the Four Seasons. Hunter shuddered to think about it.
“Hey,” Hunter said, pressing the phone closer to her ear.
“Do you have a minute?” Shelby said. She sounded casual. Almost as if Hunter hadn’t slept with her boyfriend. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
“Sure! Yes. Of course. It’s just a little loud here—”
“Did Colleen tell you she’s upset with me? About the book?”
“Yeah. But for the record, I don’t agree with her. And I know how that sounds coming from me of all people—”
“I’m not trying to convince you I’m right or that Colleen’s wrong. I just want to fix this.”
Hunter liked the sound of that. A lot. “I am so glad to hear that. Is there something I can do to—”
“Can I stay at your place tonight? I just got off the ferry.”
“You’re here now?” Hunter thought it would be a long time before she saw Shelby again. “Sure. Of course. I’ll meet you at the house to let you in. Give me ten minutes.”
She ended the call. Duke, Max, and Mia looked at her expectantly.
“That was Shelby,” she said. “She’s back in town. I have to go. Sorry.”
“You’re missing the movie?” Max said.
Hunter pulled her bag over her shoulder and brushed a few strands of grass off of her pants. “I’ll read the book. I’m sure it’s better, anyway.”