Chapter 14
The next day, it’s after lunch when Gabriel returns from his errands.
“Hard at work, I see,” he muses from the doorway of his mother’s office, looking gorgeous as usual in shorts and a white V-neck T-shirt. I look up briefly, then force myself to stop staring and return to the news clippings I was reading. Elle, of course, has no issues with addressing him.
“Abby and I have been doing some research on the previous Mystic Hollow jubilees,” Elle declares. She sits beside me, going through printouts of old flyers and newspapers.
Gabriel folds his arms. “Mom gave you internet access. She must really trust you.”
“And why wouldn’t she?” I say with some sass. Turns out the inn does have access to the internet. But it’s in Ruby’s office, a DSL line that is strictly for the owners of the inn.
I’ve already come up with some ideas about how to attract attention to the festival. “There are some booths here that look like they were popular back in the day,” I say. “There was a midway with games for kids.”
Gabriel grins. “Yeah, I remember those. Unfortunately, the local business that used to run those games closed and we never found anyone to bring them back. And it just sort of dropped off.”
“Family activities are always a draw,” I say, mostly to myself as I write down games on my brainstorming list.
I tap my chin. “What would be great is if we could come up with some kind of theme or special occasion?”
“The Fourth isn’t special enough?” Gabriel asks, deadpan.
“I mean like…is this the twentieth anniversary of the festival? Or the thirtieth for the inn?”
His mouth twists. “Nope, inn’s been around about forty-six years and the festival’s on year thirty-nine.”
I snap my fingers. “So close to a milestone. Just missed the forty-fifth and just shy of the big four-oh.”
He sighs. “And the festival’s in just a few weeks.”
I flash him my most confident grin. “Plenty of time. I’ve seen major events get pulled off far faster.”
“Right,” he says, “but you would also have a whole team and, I dunno, the resources of the White House at your disposal?”
I purse my lips. He’s not wrong, especially these days, but it wasn’t always like that. “Back in the day, grassroots volunteers and small staff were the bread and butter of my mom’s operations. Plus”—I wink, recalling advice from the campaign—“it’s not what you have, it’s who you know.”
Elle giggles. “And what they got.”
I high-five Elle, who’s on point. While we’re no longer in “campaign mode,” one of my mom’s staff who practically babysat us over the years, Erin, has always been an email or text away whenever we need advice. I’m eagerly awaiting their response now.
“Speaking of who you know, I have a tip that might help you,” Gabriel says. “An old baseball teammate of mine is having a ‘community event’ this afternoon that has ‘bucket list’ item all over it.”
I laugh. “What kind of community event?”
He smirks and leans forward. “Let’s find out.”
“Isn’t that the guy you called turd-breath?” I ask when Gabriel tells me the party’s host is Kyle Schwab.
“It’s a term of endearment,” Gabriel says. I can’t quite tell if he’s serious or not. Gabe clearly isn’t a fan of Kyle, so I appreciate him taking me to this party anyway.
I sit in his truck, listening to the hum of his rock music but not really paying attention. Five minutes into our drive and I haven’t said a word except “I’m buckled” and “blast the AC.”
I see him looking at me from the corner of my eye. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I begin to say. “I don’t know. I guess I’m a little nervous.”
He guffaws. “You’re joking. Don’t you meet new people all the time?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous when I do.”
“Seriously? You seem so confident, all the time.”
“No, that’s Elle. She’s more like our dad.” I shake my head, thinking about my kid sister, who opted to do “retail therapy” with my tita this afternoon.
But before taking off, she made sure to help me pick out my white eyelet two-piece swimsuit, which I wear under a gauzy pink cover-up dress. The floppy sun hat on my lap completes my look. “Remember, you’re hot teenage Abby, not boring First Daughter Abby,” Elle chided as I walked out of our suite.
The look on Gabriel’s face and the stammer in his voice was well worth Elle’s nagging as I met him at the bottom of the steps.
I sneak a glance at Gabriel, appreciating how good he looks: stylish tousled hair, Ray-Bans, white T-shirt, and teal swim trunks.
It took serious negotiating to get clearance for Gabriel to drive me solo, with Shaw and Nessa trailing behind.
But hey—there was precedent. I cited Susan Ford, the First Daughter who once got picked up for a date at the White House.
And bonus, Gabe’s already passed more background checks than some cabinet members.
I savor the rare freedom and hang my arm out the window. Warm air rushes over my fingers as we cruise past roadside farmstands packed with green vegetables and colorful fruit. In the distance, golden hills dotted with trees, a farmhouse, and grazing cows. This is a welcome change of pace for me.
“You have nothing to worry about,” Gabriel says, eyes on the road. “Kyle and his party crew are goofballs, but harmless.”
The mention of Kyle and goofballs reminds me of a question I had. “Why ‘turd-breath’?”
Gabriel chuckles. “Boys being dumb,” he says. “During Little League practice one day, he showed everyone a white rock he found.”
“White rock?”
“It was a petrified dog turd.”
I cringe. “Ugh!”
“When we pointed that out, he didn’t believe us until he sniffed it, and, well.” He laughs.
“Do you still play baseball?”
His eyes go flat. “No. Don’t have a lot of free time these days.”
“That’s too bad. I never joined any sports teams,” I say.
He arches a brow. “Right. Hence the bucket list item for team sports. Aren’t you, like, Ivy-bound? Aren’t sports necessary for your résumé or whatever?”
I smile ruefully. “Closest thing I do is occasional doubles tennis with Oliver.”
Gabe goes quiet and my face reddens. I’m fully aware of the possible innuendo of my statement.
In fact, I hadn’t thought much about Oliver these past few days.
Just a couple texts of me explaining the lack of cell phone service here and him saying the same as he does some hiking trip across the islands.
“Not a golf club?” Gabe says in what is probably an attempt to lighten the mood. “I figured you have meetings with elite country-club types.”
“Oh yeah,” I say. “Just as elite as you and your hoity-toity equestrian types. Owning horses means you’re rich, right?”
“Touché,” Gabriel says. “Is hoity-toity like ‘nature-y’? An AP English word, right?” I side-eye him for his reference to my bucket list.
My retort is cut short when a white truck suddenly appears next to us, but instead of zooming past—which isn’t hard because Shaw insists Gabriel drive the speed limit—it keeps pace with us.
I groan as the teens in the truck recognize us. They look about our age. I force a strained smile and slide lower in my seat.
“Seriously?” Gabriel exclaims, shooting them a glare. He motions for them to drive ahead, but they’re still gawking.
Then Shaw’s voice crackles over the loudspeaker from the SUV behind us. “Keep moving,” he barks, in full Secret Service mode. He pulls his large black truck directly behind the white pickup to let them know he’s serious.
The truck’s driver looks stricken as he hits the gas.
Gabriel says quietly, “Sorry about that. They go to school with me and should know better.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.” And it’s true. I suck in a deep breath. “I guess word has spread I’m here?”
Gabriel looks pained. “Must be. I had to tell Kyle about the Secret Service coming to secure the party location, and naturally that led to questions and his motormouth.”
Gabriel looks my way with concern in his eyes that sends goose bumps up my arm. “They all know they’re not allowed to publicize your presence, Abby. And I’ll make sure everyone remembers when we get there.” The edge in his voice is serious.
“Thank you. I’m sorry for all the trouble.”
He grows quiet. “We only have a month together and already I feel like I’m in a bubble. My life will go back to normal, but how you do this your entire life…” His voice trails off.
“This is my normal” is all I can think to say. He looks at me with sympathy, and I don’t blame him. We come from two different worlds.
His “only a month” remark also irks me. Is he already counting the days for me to return home?
We turn off the main road onto a gravel one that goes into a wooded area. I breathe in the fresh, cooler air. It smells like damp dirt and fallen foliage. I love how the sunlight filters through the canopy like little lasers of light.
I glance at Gabe, warmth blooming in my chest. It’s nice sharing a new experience with him. He must feel it too—he glances over, and for a brief moment, our smiles meet in perfect sync.
The trees start to thin out and I notice a sign that I wasn’t expecting. “Mystic Hollow Lake?” I blink. “I thought we were going to your friend’s house for a pool party?”
Gabe laughs. “I said ‘swim party,’ and Kyle’s family has a lake house. Your bucket list said you wanted to relax at the beach, right?”
My confusion turns to shock as the lake comes into view.
A small, rocky shoreline blends into patches of sand, where groups of teens are lounging in beach chairs or splashing in the water.
Several of them turn our way and lift their red cups in greeting, hollering their welcome like we’re celebrities.
All of a sudden I’m not so sure about this. I’m used to being around my peers in the context of a school project or homework. But just hanging out, with no agenda? My stomach roils as I try to think of things to say.