Chapter 3
SUMMER
Braking at the stop sign, I rattle my hands to shake off the growing nerves before taking a right and heading up to the farmlands of Mountain Laurel. The urgency I felt earlier, racing through my veins, has dissipated and been replaced by dread.
I’d been so busy pumping myself up to talk to Mrs. Dover all morning, ready to share my idea, that I forgot to strategize. So I take the leisurely drive to plot out my sales points.
She’s known my family longer than I’ve been alive. Keeping the property in the Mountain Laurel Family and out of real estate moguls’ hands is essential to preserving the land and our history.
The property is next door to my family and me. Taking care of tenants is easier due to proximity.
It could be my own home one day, continuing the legacy of generations of the Seasons and Lovings growing up here.
I turn onto her private drive and park next to her Cadillac.
I take my time, building the gumption to lay out an offer as I trek across the lawn to the front door of the farmhouse.
This place would be a dream to raise a family.
I can imagine sitting in the rockers on the front porch with a glass of tea when it’s too hot or sipping wine when the sun’s setting.
Even with those beautiful images, my heart clenches thinking of Mrs. Dover here all alone.
There’s no sneaking onto this front porch. Boards creak under my feet. Pulling the screen door open, I knock on the solid wood door that needs painting and gently close the other before stepping back to wait.
Mrs. Dover peeks through the sidelight and answers.
Her smile is as welcoming as her arms when they wrap around me.
“This is such a nice visit.” It’s only been a few weeks, but when I think about her being on this big farm, that’s a lot of time to spend without seeing anyone. “Is it social or business?”
“Both.” I hate to lie, but it’s not like I don’t have the time to chat.
“Let me grab some sweet tea, and we can talk out here on the front porch.” She swooshes me toward the rocking chairs. “Make yourself at home.”
“You don’t have to go to any trouble.”
“No trouble, Summer Season.” The screen door is already closing before the words leave her mouth.
She has never made me feel I can’t come to her, but that doesn’t stop the twinge of guilt rippling through me.
This is her income. This could go well or extremely bad.
I’m praying for good. I’d hate for her to think poorly of me, like I’m another hawk preying on her, or like I’m trying to take advantage of her.
I would never. Fingers crossed she’ll see the benefits of me owning the Cottage Cove property.
Sitting down, I look out where herds of cows used to roam.
Now she has Bessie, the lone survivor, to keep her company.
I rock back and take in a deep breath. We’re spoiled with fresh air in these parts, but June thickens the air with the heat of summer as well.
Or maybe that’s my nerves kicking in. I swipe my palms down the tops of my thighs.
“Here we are.” She sets the glasses on a wicker table between us and sits in the other rocking chair. Taking hold of a glass, she sips and then smiles at me. “What brings you by this Saturday?”
I pick up the other glass, condensation already building and causing drips to land on the cotton of my dress and spread through the woven fabric. “I checked in the summer tenant. His son was busy playing, but I spent a few minutes chatting with him.”
“Is he nice?”
His smile comes to mind, along with that look in his eyes that had me mentally undressing. I swallow harder than I should before taking a quick sip to cool down. Unexpected comes to mind when thinking about Daniel Sutton. “He’s . . . I don’t think there will be any trouble.”
“That’s good.” The boards cry for reprieve under the weight of the chairs while we rock, the distraction causing me to regret the last two sausages I ate. “I have a sense this isn’t about the rental. What’s on your mind, Summer?”
“I’ve heard about the interest on the upper shores.” She sips, not revealing any indication of her thoughts about outsiders coming in to snatch up properties. She’d be the only one not thinking about it or gossiping, more accurately. “They’re making offers.”
“I need to be honest with you, honey,” she starts.
I was already unnerved by all the scenarios of the way this conversation could potentially play out, but now with my heart stalled in my throat, I need to keep breathing.
Resting my hand on my chest, I check. “A gentleman from Seattle wants to have a call.”
My throat tightens. I thought I had more time to talk to her, but it seems I’m the one who’s behind. I clear my throat and straighten my spine. “Regarding Cove Cottage?”
“Regarding both properties.”
I set the glass down and angle toward her. “And you’re taking the call?”
Although she had been rocking, she stills, and takes another sip. “I’m old, but I’m no fool.”
“Can I ask a favor?”
“I can’t promise you’ll get the answer you want, but you can ask.”
Releasing a long-held breath, I say, “I want a shot.”
The corners of her mouth soften upward. “I know you have a strong interest. You’ve treated them like your own, which I’m grateful for, but I’m not sure you’re going to have the money—”
“I have some money.” I stop myself from saying more.
My inheritance is limited after I paid for college and helped with the house.
There’s a reason the list of issues is growing daily.
They take money or time to figure out how to DIY it.
I’ve been short on both the past couple of months.
She knows my backstory, but not so much about my budget.
With a tilt of her head, a curl that’s gone gray among the remaining blond falls over one eye.
With a puff of breath, it floats to its rightful place on her temple.
Her eyes steady on mine with the type of soft smile I’ve seen too much for one lifetime.
Sympathetic. “Summer . . .” There’s that damn pause I used to hear before every condolence.
Though said in kindness, I hate the tone that accompanies it.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware of the value—”
“I’ve done my research. I won’t be able to outbid a big company’s banking power, but I’d like to have the opportunity to present my own offer.”
“The letter I received already mentioned possibilities.” She reaches over, and her hand covers my forearm with a gentleness that matches the shape of her eyes. “It’s not going to be in a range you can afford. I’m sorry—”
“Give me a chance, Mrs. Dover. Please.” She sits back and starts rocking again as if the words landed with impact. “If you decide to go with someone else after that, I’ll understand.”
Her gaze shifts to the large acreage before us and then to Bessie, who stands at the fence as if she’s part of the conversation. When Mrs. Dover looks at me, she says, “You’ll get your fair shot, but please remember business is business.”
“Business in Mountain Laurel Cove is personal, and I’ll fight the best I can to keep it that way. The last thing any of us wants is for the Cove to become a rich person’s playground like they did over in Ocean’s Bay.”
“They have a good funnel cake, though.”
Excitement bubbles up, causing me to giggle. “They sure do.” Leaning back, I watch the black cow chew the tall grass in the pasture, content like I am in our pocket of heaven. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”
“I look forward to the pitch.” The conversation veers into maintenance at the mountain cottage while we finish our glasses of sweet tea.
When I stand to leave, we hug, and I dash to the car.
Tucked inside, I exhale a huge sigh of relief.
It’s only step one in what I assume will be a long process, but I’ll take it and run with it to make her not only proud but happy she’s selling to me.
I leave the farm with renewed energy. It’s good to have something to focus on, to have a goal that benefits all of us who live here. I look around as I drive past pastures and continue to the only stop sign we have in town.
How lucky am I to live in this beautiful town where the ocean meets the forests and the fields meet the trees? I have my grandmother and my sisters, a job that pays some basic bills, and friends around every corner and in each shop. What more could I ask for?
The property.
A comfortable life.
Love?
I take a long, shaky breath.
Is love even real?
I’m not sure anymore. Unless it smacks me upside the head or gives me what my parents had, I don’t want it.
Thinking love exists after the last time I got burned is a fool’s errand.
It’s been a long time since I had someone tell me I’m beautiful.
It’s been longer since I’ve been kissed.
I can’t even remember the last time I—get out of your head, Summer.
This train of thought leads to a dead end.
Sex aside, would it be greedy to ask for just a little more in life? I don’t need hearts and flowers. I’d settle for companionship or someone who makes me smile at this point.
My chest burns with a loneliness that’s been creeping up on me lately.
It grows a little deeper each day. I’ve taken care of my sisters and grandmother since my parents passed.
They don’t need me anymore, not in any significant way.
So maybe having this new project—an amazing opportunity—will help.
Directing my energies toward saving our town from ending up like Ocean’s Bay is really a godsend.
I’m startled out of my thoughts by the vibration of my phone against the console. I glance down, ready to let the unfamiliar number go to voicemail. But I pick it up just in case it’s not spam. “Hello?”
“Summer Season?”
The warmth of the voice wraps around me like a cozy blanket on a chilly day. But I still don’t recognize it. “Yes? Who is this?”
The sound of air sucked in pervades the call. “Daniel.”
“Daniel who?” I ask, smiling at myself in the rearview mirror. I knew we’d get here—him calling me for help—but it came even faster than I anticipated.
“Daniel Sutton. Your summer tenant.” His tone holds equal parts annoyance and surliness, which is both entertaining and satisfying. He’s already becoming so predictable.
“Ohhh, that Daniel.”
“Do you know a lot of Daniels, Ms. Season?” Impatience gets the best of him. It’s glorious. I want to tell him that this is why we let people do their jobs and follow the rules, but I bite my tongue. Knowing he’s squirming on the other end is satisfying enough.
For now, at least.
I shrug despite him or anyone else being able to see me. “It’s not an uncommon name.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
His tone is rough and raw, and I imagine his jaw flexing with irritation. There’s something ridiculously hot about that.
I gulp, hoping he can’t hear it, though it’s so loud in my ears that I’m now worried they can hear me swallowing in Half Moon Bay. “I’m sure you didn’t call to chat about the commonalities of your name, Mr. Sutton. How can I help you?”
“Despite what you might think, Ms. Season, I’m not so arrogant that I can’t admit when I’m wrong.”
I look around like there might be a camera hidden somewhere. There are miles and thousands of trees between us, but it sure feels like his eyes are on me. “Is this a setup?”
He chuckles, the edge of his annoyance dissolving. “It’s not a setup.”
“Oh. Okay. This is a good start.” I start driving toward home.
“I was wrong.” A man who can own up to his errors in life? I approve. “It’s the shower.”
I burst out laughing before he finishes speaking. I knew it. As my inner champion does another victory lap, I say, “Fine. I’ll be right over.”
Sure, I might be as smug as a bear that just got away with the honey, but at least I didn’t say I told you so. Yet.