Chapter Sixty
Sixty
Shelby sat next to Duke in his living room while Justin set up a laptop for their video call with the Millers. The house was less cluttered than she’d ever seen it now that Seaport Press was half-boxed-up.
“How’s the new novel coming along?” Duke asked her.
That was the last thing she wanted to talk about. “Well, my agent and I are parting ways. So things are in limbo.”
“Sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?”
She shook her head and thanked him. Justin adjusted the brightness of the screen just as the Millers logged on. The hospital room came into view, with Colleen sitting in bed and her parents sitting side by side in chairs pulled up close.
As agreed, Duke presented their idea for using the town trust to buy the store for Colleen to run and operate. On the other end of the call, Pam and Annie were unreadable, while Colleen nodded and smiled vigorously to everything he said.
“Of course, this only works if you haven’t signed anything yet with the Hendriks,” Duke said.
Pam and Annie shared a glance, then Annie said, “No, we haven’t gone to contract yet.” Even through the screen, the skepticism in her face was clear. “But we can’t put them off indefinitely. How long would it take for the trust to decide?”
Justin leaned into the frame. “We have to present a case: why this is crucial for the town and why it’s sustainable. Colleen, that’s where you come in. A big part of our argument will be continuity—that you’ll be running it. And it’s actually a requirement that a local manages any trust-owned businesses. So we need to be sure this is what you want.”
Pam passed the screen to Colleen, and Shelby noticed how tired she looked.
“Of course it’s what I want,” she said. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“Great,” Duke said. “That’s all we needed to hear.”
Shelby and Justin walked out together. She noticed the sun was setting earlier, a stark reminder that the summer was coming to an end. She felt a twinge. As much as she prided herself on being comfortable with change, it suddenly felt painful again, like when she’d been a child. She didn’t know why. Maybe it was the realization that she might never truly belong anywhere. In New York City, she’d become the author she always dreamed of being. But the last week she’d spent there, she’d felt like a tourist in her own life. And sure, Provincetown was a lovely place to visit. But when would she ever feel at home?
They walked to the end of Duke’s street towards Commercial, where they’d turn in opposite directions. A cyclist rode by, alerting them with the ring of a bell. The dusk light gave everything a soft glow.
“So that went well,” he said.
“It did. But it was the easy part, right? I mean, I knew Colleen was in. And I had faith in Pam and Annie. But the town trust...what are the odds?”
Justin stopped to move a big branch that had fallen into the middle of the street. When he finished, he dusted off his hands and said, “I’ll do my best.”
She nodded. “I know you will.”
They shared a smile and she felt a tension, a pull towards him. It shouldn’t be surprising; of course they had a bond. Maybe they always would.
They walked to the corner of Franklin and Bradford, waiting to cross the street. At the first lull in traffic, they darted to the other side. A fox ran across their path and under a parked car. The light was fading quickly.
“You know, I understand you better now,” he said as they made their way to Commercial.
“You do?”
“Well, I understand why you decided it wouldn’t work out in the long run,” he said.
A pedicab drove by, ringing a bell to alert them. She moved closer to the curb and he walked alongside her. It was a natural spot for them to part. But she wasn’t leaving on that note.
“What do you mean?” Close to the water, the breeze was stronger. She pulled up her sweatshirt hood.
He looked at her with directness, an intimacy that made her stomach flip. “Do you have time to walk a little?”
“Sure,” she said.
They turned right, towards the bend of Commercial’s far west end. Beautiful clapboard homes lined the waterfront, and above them in the sky a half-moon shone bright. They made their way to the small beach where she and Colleen had gone a few weeks earlier. Someone had abandoned a beach towel on the bench.
“I realize, if you feel strongly enough about something, no matter how much you want a relationship to work, if it’s in conflict with that, it’s a deal-breaker. I’m in that situation now with Kate.”
“I see,” she said slowly. “In what way?”
“I can’t be with her now that her father bought the wharf building. Not just that, but the fact that she didn’t tell me. And actually, it’s not even that. We could get past that, I guess. It’s that she doesn’t care about this place, not in the big picture. Not in the ways that matter.”
“I see how that’s...complicated. But I don’t see the connection to what happened between us.”
His expression turned rueful. “It wouldn’t have worked long-distance. I would be trying to get you to move here, and you’d resent me for not even considering New York City. With Kate, I made the mistake of trying to convert her into a Ptowner. And look what happened.”
A lightning bug glowed over his shoulder. Jazz music played from someone’s backyard. She heard laughter coming from an open window, a nearby dinner party. She could feel the warmth of the room they were in, imagine the table of food and the wine and the comradery. She wondered who owned the house. She wondered if they were a couple.
“Justin,” she said. “When we said goodbye that summer, you said to me, ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for.’ And I did. But there was a cost.”
His eyes softened. “It’s okay, Shelby.”
“I thought it was. But I’m not so sure. Things are different now.”
“You still live in New York,” he said gently.
He was right. That hadn’t changed.
“But I’m here now . I’m here tonight,” she said. His expression shifted—a small smile, just enough to bring out the dimple in his cheek. His tensed jawline softened. God, she missed him.
“Are you saying you...don’t have to rush back to Hunter’s?” he said.
She nodded. Then he reached for her hand.
Three summers ago, Justin’s bedroom had felt like her own. She knew the handblown glass lamp on the dresser was a gift after one of his parents’ trips to Italy. The framed vintage map of Cape Cod on his wall had once belonged to the man who built Barros Boatyard. There was a watermark on the ceiling that he purposefully didn’t repair because he thought it uncannily resembled the Cape.
It was dark, but moonlight streamed in through the ill-fitting window shade that somehow never bothered him. Across the room, a table fan whirred, and seemed particularly loud. Shelby felt hyperaware of everything: the way her cheek felt against his bare chest, the beating of his heart, the distant howl of a coyote.
She turned her face towards his, and he cupped her jaw with his hand. He kissed her.
He reached for his phone, checking the time. She remembered that it was a weeknight and he probably had to get to work in the morning. She sat up, looking around for her clothes. They were still on the floor.
“You don’t have to run off,” he said, touching her arm lightly.
Shelby stopped reaching for her clothes. This was it: she could speak now, or forever hold the proverbial peace. “Justin, maybe we’re wrong about the long-distance thing. Maybe it can work.”
He shook his head. “It can’t. Not for people like us.”
She turned away from him so he wouldn’t see the hurt on her face. She couldn’t argue with him because he wasn’t wrong. In doing the job he loved, Justin was bound to that unique peninsula. And in doing what she loved, she had to be unbound.
“No,” she said. “Not for people like us.”
She stepped out of bed, her bare feet touching the plank wood floors. It gave her a chill she felt through her entire body.