Chapter 39
SUMMER
Iwas the last to arrive at lunch, which was entirely my fault.
I’d lost track of time between lessons and had to change in the truck, which was a skill I’d perfected over years of coastal living but still required more time than I budgeted for.
I didn’t get the chance to put on any makeup and had twisted my hair up instead of trying to brush through the salty crust that formed on the curls.
I spotted them through the window before I even reached the door.
Dad was laughing. A real laugh that I rarely saw.
The woman across from him had her hand over her mouth and was clearly the cause of it.
She was maybe sixty, with silver-streaked dark hair cut to her shoulders and reading glasses pushed up on her head like a headband.
She was wearing a soft blue blouse and was leaning toward my father like she’d been doing it for years.
I stood on the sidewalk for just a moment, taken aback by the scene.
It wasn’t bad. It was just new. He looked good.
He looked ten years younger. A strange feeling washed over me.
It was a complicated little tangle of happiness and something that wasn’t quite sadness but very close to it.
Mom had been gone ten years. We knew he loved her and would always love her, but it was time for him to find someone to ride out the golden years with.
I was fine with this. Encouraged it even, which was why I was having lunch with them today.
I pushed the door open and walked in, prepared to be a charming daughter.
“There she is,” Dad said. He stood and gave me a quick hug.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said.
“You’re not late,” he said. “Summer, this is Sheryl.”
Sheryl stood and extended her hand. She had a firm handshake and warm eyes. My first impression was good. She was friendly without trying too hard. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said. “The surfer.”
“The surfer,” I agreed, shaking her hand. “And you’re the marine biologist.”
Her face lit up. “Retired marine biologist. Mostly I was writing grants and attending conferences.”
“She’s being modest,” Dad said as we settled back into our seats. “She spent twelve years in the field. Actual field work. Coral restoration off the Florida Keys.”
“That’s incredible,” I said, and I meant it.
She waved it off but she was pleased. “I heard you’ve been doing some real work protecting this coastline recently. The protest.”
“A lot of people did that work,” I said. “I just showed up.”
She nodded. “I understand the protest was effective.”
“It was.”
We ordered and we fell into easy conversation.
Sheryl asked me questions about teaching surf lessons.
She knew the coastline and the water and was actually very pleasant.
I didn’t feel like I was betraying Mom by liking Sheryl.
Mom would have liked her. Dad kept looking at her when she talked. Small, quiet glances.
By the time the plates were cleared I was genuinely glad I’d come. Sheryl excused herself to find the restroom and it was just me and Dad for a moment, which I suspected was intentional.
“She’s wonderful,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. “She is.”
“I like her.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
We said our goodbyes out front. Sheryl hugged me, which surprised me. “I hope to see you again.”
“We’ll have to have dinner soon,” I said.
Dad kissed the top of my head the way he had since I was four years old, and they walked toward his truck together.
I watched them for just a moment. She said something that had him tilting his head toward her.
I could see his shoulders moving with a laugh even from twenty feet away.
He was happy. They both were. That’s all one could ask for.
The parking lot was small and shared between the restaurant and two other businesses. I was cutting between a pickup and a large black SUV when I heard someone shouting.
“I don’t care what it costs, find me a workaround.
That’s what I pay you for.” A pause. “I’m not interested in your opinion on what’s possible.
I’m interested in solutions. Get me something on the covenants by Friday or find yourself another client.
” Another pause, longer this time. “And Anderson. I want everything on Anderson. Every deal he’s walked away from, every contract dispute, every ex-girlfriend with a grudge. I want the whole fucking picture.”
Judd Mathers was sitting behind the wheel of his fancy car, a phone pressed to his ear as he slapped the steering wheel. He was one pissed off man and that almost made me laugh. I kept on walking.
“What are you looking at?”
I glanced over my shoulder and found him looking directly at me. I was not interested in playing games with him. He was trouble.
“Nothing,” I said pleasantly. “Just heading to my car.”
“You were listening.”
“I was walking past your car,” I said. “I wasn’t aware that required headphones. If you don’t want people to hear your temper tantrum, roll up the window or, I don’t know, stop yelling. Have your tantrum in the privacy of your hotel room.”
His eyes narrowed. I had dealt with difficult people before. I could manage this.
“You’re one of them,” he said. The word “them” came out like something he’d scraped off the bottom of his shoe. His lips curled back like he’d smelled something foul. “The protest crowd.”
“I live here,” I said.
He snorted. “Right. The locals.” He said “locals” the same way.
“You know what your problem is? All of you? You think small. You think this little stretch of sand is the whole world and anything that changes it is the enemy.” He leaned out the window slightly.
I resisted the urge to step back. “I’ve brought economic development to six coastal communities.
Six. And every single one of them thanked me eventually. ”
“Eventually,” I repeated.
“Once they understood what growth actually meant. You hillbillies don’t understand basic economics.”
I laughed. “Aw shucks, mister, we just don’t get it.”
He glared at me. “You think Anderson is your hero? He’s not. He’ll figure that out eventually. And when he goes back to Texas, you’ll all be here begging for an economic boost.”
We had attracted a crowd. People were standing around, phones out, watching the little man throw his childish tantrum.
“What?” he snapped in their direction.
A few of them started laughing. He believed he was intimidating and maybe he was in some circles, but he was on our turf.
“Unbelievable,” Judd said. He turned back to me. “You’re all a bunch of losers, you know that? Running around with your little phones filming everything. Like this is some kind of reality show.”
A woman had her phone out. She wasn’t hiding it. In fact, she was smiling at him while she did it.
“Put that away,” he said. “Losers!”
He rolled up the window, put the car in drive, and hit the gas. I laughed and shook my head. He could have the day he deserved. I was not going to let him bring me down.
I texted Colt around three, when my last lesson had packed up and gone home. I’d been busy, but I was still determined to remind him to have a little fun every day.
Me: Meet me on the water in twenty minutes. Bring a board.
On my way.
I was already waxing the longboard when he came down the path from the dune.
He was wearing board shorts and carrying a board tucked under his arm.
He grinned and dropped the board in the sand beside mine.
He looked good. He always looked good. It was exhausting being attracted to someone so sexy. I always wanted him naked.
“How was your day?” he asked.
“Interesting,” I said. “I’ll tell you in the water.”
We paddled out past the break together. The swell was small, the kind of afternoon that was more about floating than actual surfing. I sat up on my board and pushed my wet hair back from my face.
“Okay,” he said, sitting up on his own board a few feet away. “Tell me.”
“I ran into Judd Mathers in a parking lot.”
He nodded. “He’s sticking around.”
“He was on the phone in his car,” I said. “Yelling at someone. He didn’t notice me walking past until I was right there.” I paused, watching a small wave build and roll under us both. “He was talking about the covenants. And you. He really doesn’t like you.”
Colt grinned. It was the kind of smile that said he’d been up to something. The smile he flashed at me when he showed up at my window.
“He found out,” Colt said.
I tilted my head. “Found out what?”
“That he’s not just fighting the locals anymore.”
I waited for him to tell me more.
“I’ve been doing some work behind the scenes,” he said. “Making some calls, having some conversations with the right people.”
“What kind of people?”
“City officials, mostly.” He leaned forward on the board, forearms resting across the nose of it.
“Planning department. The historical committee. A couple of members of the coastal commission.” He paused.
“Turns out when you go to those people with documentation and a clear argument, they tend to listen. Especially when someone has already tried to slip things past them.”
I stared at him. “You think Judd paid someone off?”
“I think the original permit applications moved through certain channels faster than they probably should have. I can’t prove anything and I’m not going to make accusations I can’t back up.
But I think some things got quietly waved through that should have been flagged.
And now that I’ve shined a light on the whole situation, those same officials are looking a lot more carefully. ”
“The Front Street building,” I said.
“Those blueprints Judd filed are for a full modern office renovation. Gut the interior, modify the south-facing facade, expand the loading access.” He shook his head slowly.
“Every single one of those changes requires committee approval under the original covenant language. Unanimous approval. Which, as your father helpfully pointed out, is functionally impossible.”
I felt the smile break across my face before I could contain it. “He can’t build his headquarters.”
“He cannot build his headquarters,” Colt confirmed.
“Not on Front Street. Not in that building. Not without tearing up covenants that have been airtight for thirty years.” He looked out at the horizon for a moment.
“And now that the planning department is taking a second look at everything he filed, construction isn’t going to begin on anything.
Not until every piece of documentation has been reviewed. Which could take quite a long time.”
“How long?”
He looked back at me with that slow smile still in place. “Long enough to be very inconvenient for a man trying to meet investor timelines.”
I leaned over my board toward him. The gap between us was maybe three feet of open water. I reached out and grabbed his board and pulled it toward mine until they were side by side. He didn’t resist, letting the boards knock together gently.
I kissed him. The boards rocked under us. We’d probably fall off our boards but I didn’t care.
When I pulled back, he was grinning. “What was that for?”
“For being sneaky and brilliant,” I said. “And for not making a big production out of it.”
“I’m a man of quiet action.”
I laughed. “Yeah, you are.”
I let go of his board and lay back down on mine, paddling a few strokes to reposition for the next set. He did the same beside me. We were quiet for a minute, just watching the water.
“So when he was yelling about finding a workaround,” I said.
“He just found out the workaround doesn’t exist.” Colt sat up again, watching the horizon with the satisfied expression of a man who had played a long game and was watching it play out.
“His lawyers probably just told him about the committee review. Which means they also told him the timeline just blew wide open.”
“He called all of us hillbillies. Said we didn’t understand basic economics.” I shook my head. “He was very worked up. There was a small crowd by the end. Someone filmed it. Then he called us all losers and drove away.”
Colt shook his head slowly, still smiling. “He’s rattled. A rattled Judd Mathers is a dangerous Judd Mathers, but it also means he’s running out of options and he knows it.” He looked at me. “Are you okay? He didn’t say anything threatening?”
“He was unpleasant,” I said. “I’ve dealt with worse on a crowded beach in August.” I paddled to line myself up as a wave built behind us.
We both turned and paddled. I caught it clean, feeling the board lift and carry me forward in a way that never got old no matter how many thousands of times I’d done it.
I rode it to the shallows and kicked off into the knee-deep water, turning back to watch him.
He caught the tail end of the same wave and made it most of the way before the board slipped sideways and dumped him into the foam.
“You’re rusty,” I teased.
He splashed water at me. I dodged sideways and splashed him back. We ended up in the same water fight we always ended up in, both of us laughing. He got me around the waist. I grabbed his arms and we went under together, surfacing in a tangle, sputtering and laughing.
“Truce,” I managed.
“Truce,” he agreed.
We paddled back out and spent the next hour on the water without any agenda. He was getting better. The pop-up was still a half second too slow and his back foot placement was off, but he was reading the waves with more instinct than I remembered from years ago.
The question was sitting right there at the back of my throat, the same place it had been sitting since the bonfire.
I was desperate to ask him if he’d made a decision.
But I didn’t. I had told him he had time.
I turned my head and looked at him. His profile was so familiar.
The line of his jaw. I’d spent so many hours looking at him over the years that I could have drawn him from memory in the dark.
It terrified me to think I might have to rely on my memories of him because I wasn’t going to get the real thing.