“So, why Abraham Lincoln?” she asked.
“What?”
“Your presentation today,” Courtney said, swimming my way. “What made you choose Lincoln?”
“Well, he’s arguably one of the greatest speakers in the history of the country.”
“He is. You’re a pretty impressive speaker yourself. You realize that?”
“I’ve never really thought so, no. I was nervous and I screwed up the opening.” I looked away.
“You’re not astute at taking a compliment, are you?”
I considered the statement. “I guess I’m not.”
“Trust me when I say that the speech was really good.” I opened my mouth to argue, but she beat me there. “Don’t say another thing to discredit yourself. A thank-you is all that a compliment requires.”
“In that case, thank you.” And then I felt the blush hit my cheeks.
Courtney’s eyes met mine and she smiled. “You’re very welcome.” She held my gaze for a moment longer and then swam away again. I decided to take control of the conversation as she flipped onto her back.
“So what do you think of Tanner Peak so far?”
She seemed to ruminate on the question. “It’s definitely small.”
“Well, yeah.”
“And homey, though. Everyone seems to like it here.”
“Mostly true.”
“But despite the size, there also seems to be a lot to discover. Like this little creek, for instance. First one I’ve encountered outside of a Little House on the Prairie episode.”
“Oh, come on,” I said, laughing, and feeling a little defensive of my hometown. “I think we’re a little farther along than Little House.”
“I can agree with that. But things do move a little slower here.”
“That part is true.”
“But in a nice way.”
“I think it’s the most beautiful place on the planet,” I said before hearing myself and wincing. I pretended to study the sky then, embarrassed to have confessed what probably sounded like a really naïve declaration to someone who’d seen more of the world than I probably ever would. Courtney didn’t say anything, and when I stole another glance, I caught her watching me.
“What?” I asked, wondering if I had an errant strand of grass on my face, because that would be typical.
“Nothing,” Courtney said, and looked away.
“No, seriously. You can say it. I know I must sound small-town stupid to you.”
“What?” She had the decency to look outraged. “No. I definitely wasn’t thinking that.”
“Okay. Then what were you thinking?”
“That you light up when you talk about this place, and you’re really pretty when you light up.”
“Oh.” The comment landed hard, and I felt a little glowy. She thought I was pretty? Now, don’t get me wrong, I knew I wasn’t a hideous person, but outside of that, I’d always categorized myself as kind of average in the looks department. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We swam some more as daylight slid away. The luminous moon took its place, providing plenty of light and reflecting off the water in intricate little rays. Crickets chirped nearby in a soothing chorus. The night couldn’t have been more serene.
“So when does it open?” I asked. “Carrington’s. Soon, right?”
“Ten days and eleven hours,” she said, doing the math quickly in her head.
“That’s specific.”
“I’m more than a little excited. The opening of a new store gets my blood going.”
I laughed. “Now who’s all lit up?”
She shrugged, giving in. “True. I’m pretty much obsessed with the department store world. I wish I could put my finger on what it is I love so much.”
“You could give it a shot.” I swam in her direction so I was close enough to really appreciate this explanation.
She grinned and looked away. “You’ll think I’m boring.”
“Trust me when I say I won’t.” Nothing about this girl struck me as boring.
She studied me, perhaps sizing up the truth of that statement, and bit her lower lip. “Okay. I’m not sure where to start. You sure you want to hear this? You’re the articulate one, presenting effortlessly in front of the class as if you were born to do it.”
“There was nothing effortless about what happened today. But honestly, I’m interested.”
Courtney nodded. “There’s something about the hustle and bustle of the customers as they move through the perfectly decorated space in search of something new and untouched to take home with them. Then there’s the fact that the temperature is always a cool sixty-eight degrees, the mannequins are forever perfectly dressed, and quiet music plays to offer a little pick-me-up. It feels like an escape from the real world, which can at times be ugly, to somewhere unmarred and beautiful.”
I watched her face, captivated by the wonder I saw there. “I don’t think I will ever look at a department store the same way again.”
Courtney laughed. “Good. Then my work here is done.”
“So is that what you want to do with your life? I mean, after school. Work for the family business?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. Only one problem.”
“And what is that?”
“I have to convince my father.”
“What? He doesn’t want to pass on the store to—”
“To his daughter? No. He has definite ideas about women in business.”
“Ouch.”
“Exactly.”
It made me want to double-check the calendar and what year we were living in. Last I looked, we also had the right to vote. “So what’s your plan?”
“Astonish him with my superior abilities once the store opens and convince him to give me an actual job on the floor. Even just a cash register at first. Something small until I can learn more and move to a new position.”
“And eventually plant your flag as CEO and take down all department store rivals?”
“Well, yeah.” She was dead serious. “Isn’t that what you want? To eventually take over the berry business?”
I laughed, then realized she meant it sincerely. “I do love it, but I’m not sure I want to spend my life harvesting fields on a tractor. I guess that’s me checking the undecided box as far as my future employment goes.”
“Totally okay. In fact—whoa.” She slipped, probably on the smooth rocks on the creek bed. But I was quick enough to catch her arm and steady her.
“You’re okay,” I said, holding on until she righted herself.
She met my eyes and I gently released her, noting how close we stood. “I just lost my footing, I guess. Thanks, Margaret.” She must have caught me cringe at the name I’d always hated. “Something I said?”
“Nope. I’m cool.”
“Tell me what that was. Your face completely fell.”
I sighed in surrender and laid it out there for her. “I hate my name.”
Courtney laughed. “You hate your name? Margaret?”
“Yes, Margaret. And it’s not funny. It’s awful and I’ll never crawl out from underneath it.”
“What don’t you like about it?” She was trying to contain her smile and failing miserably.
“Well, in the land of Kendalls, Mackenzies, and Emersons, Margaret is about as fashionable as a bolo tie. The Wicked Witch of the West was named Margaret in real life, which means I’m cursed! I’ll probably just wind up stealing shoes and—”
“Okay, okay.” Courtney caught my wildly gesturing hands in hers. “I think I get your passion for the topic,” she said, laughing once again. “So how about a nickname?”
I blinked back at her, preoccupied by the fact that she still held my hands. “A nickname?”
“Yeah. What about Maggie?”
I rolled it around in my head. “It’s not bad. It’s certainly better.”
“Done. Maggie. All better. See?”
“If you say so.
”
“And I do. Hey, Maggie, I think I’m ready to dry off. Join me?”
“Sure.” I looked on as Courtney pushed herself onto dry land, offering me my first full glimpse of her in her bathing suit. I blinked hard at the image, at how gracefully she moved, at how smooth her skin looked, at the lines that flared into curves that… Stop it. What is wrong with me?
We toweled off and sat on the edge of the creek. While it was darker out now, I could still make out her features easily enough and was hyperaware of her proximity.
“So tell me about this Travis guy,” Courtney said. Aha. Travis. Probably a crush in the making. I wouldn’t have expected anything different.
“Travis is…Travis. Probably one of the more popular guys in the junior class. Athletic. Confident.”
“In a good way or bad?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
She tilted her head to the side and then bumped my shoulder. “I’m asking you, crazy.”
I swallowed and tried to approach the topic as delicately as I could. Sure, I had opinions about the guy, but I wasn’t going to color Courtney’s perception of him blatantly. “I’ve had both up and down moments with him. He’s okay, I guess. Just has some maturing to do.”
“Such is a teenage boy, I’m afraid.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s it. I’m sure he means well.”
“So Travis means well. Got it. Who do you date?”
“Me? No one. Not at the moment.” Not at any moment, but who was counting? “Just pretty much doing my own thing. I concentrate on school and the farm, mainly.”
“The strawberries.”
“Well, there are a lot of them.” Why did I say dumb things? Why?
“I’d like to see your place sometime. Try one of those berries for myself.”
“My mom wanted me to bring you by tonight for dessert, but because I’m a nice person I will convince her you had to race home.”
“But I don’t.”
“You don’t?”
“Have to race home. We should go and have dessert. That would be awesome.”
“Are you sure? You definitely don’t have to—”
“Come on.” She squeezed my hand. “I want to meet your parents. And if there are fresh strawberries in this dessert, I’m a goner.” And she was up and moving before I could answer. Courtney, I was finding, was the type of girl who leapt at life and went after what she wanted.
*
“So when did you all arrive in town?” my mother asked, and set a jar of strawberry topping between us on the table. Normally at this time of night, my mom would be in her nightgown on the couch, sometimes watching Golden Girls reruns, sometimes reading a book. But she was still dressed, which only spoke to how much she wanted to meet Courtney. I couldn’t decide if that made me pathetic or fortunate to have a mom so invested.
“Three days ago,” Courtney told her. “My dad’s still in Chicago, though, tying up some loose ends with some of the Midwest stores. He’ll join us next week.”
I watched as my father sat back in his chair. The subtle movement was enough to tell me he was uncomfortable at the mere mention of Mr. Carrington.
My mom topped her own strawberry shortcake and joined us at the table. “And your mother? Is she settling in okay?”
Courtney nodded. “Seems to be. She doesn’t know anyone other than my grandmother, though. I’m hoping she makes a friend or two.”
“I should invite her to book club this week.”
“I’m sure she’d love that. That would be so nice of you.”
My mom nodded and seemed excited by the concept. “Consider it done. We meet on Tuesdays at the café on the square. We’re currently reading my new release, but generally we stick with general fiction.”
Courtney’s eyes widened and she set down her spoon. It was clear she was impressed. “You’re a writer?”
“She writes romance,” I told her, feeling rather proud. “She has twenty-four books published.”
“Oh my God. I have to read one,” Courtney said emphatically.
My mother smiled. “Someday maybe. You’re a little younger than my target audience.”
“I’ve never met an author before.”
“She’s a good one, too,” my dad said. “More shortcake?” Courtney had blown through the dessert on her plate and I couldn’t blame her, as it was every-which-way awesome.
“Sure!” she answered cheerfully. My mother followed him into the kitchen and Courtney turned to me.
“Your parents are like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.” Her hair had all but dried and the blond had returned. It framed her face as if she’d never gone swimming. How was that possible? I’m sure mine was a tumbled mess.
“What? No. My parents, they’re just normal parents.”
“Inviting your friends over, homemade dessert, hanging out with us? That wouldn’t happen at my house. Ever. Just for the record.”
“What would happen?”
She thought on the question. “Everyone quiet and invested in their own thing. It’s rare we do anything together. We definitely don’t hang out.”
“Dinner?”
“Usually on our own. Someone will put some food on the stove. Everyone grabs a plate and disperses.”
I was leveled with sadness, imagining Courtney eating by herself, no one asking her about her day or worrying about the presentation she had to give in history class. “Wow. So you’re pretty independent, then.”
She must have noticed the look on my face and instantly toughened. “Don’t feel bad for me. I’m fine. It’s just nice to see…this.” She looked around the room. “It’s warm here. Friendly.”
“Yeah. I guess it is.”
After another half hour around the table in which my dad explained the riveting process of protecting the strawberries from bug invasions and my mother let Courtney read the back of one of her books, I borrowed my mom’s Honda to drive Courtney home. It was, after all, past ten, and though Tanner Peak felt like the safest place on Earth, it still didn’t seem right to send Courtney out on her own so late. Besides, I was really having a good time. And maybe I’m crazy, but she seemed to be having fun, too.
“Tonight was exactly what I needed,” she said halfway into the drive to her house. She’d rolled the window down and stuck her face out to the air rushing past. “I had a good time with you, Maggie Beringer. Swimming in the creek.” She laughed. “God, I can’t believe I just said that sentence.”
“Well, get used to it,” I said, stealing a glance at her. “You’re not living in a concrete jungle anymore, and summer’s on the way.”
“Right? Adjustment period in progress.” She paused. “How long until summer break?”
“Three weeks and four days.”
“It’s not like you’re keeping track or anything.”
I chuckled. “Not at all.”
I drove to the house she directed me to on Legends Lane, a three-story mammoth with neatly trimmed bushes and a pale blue door.
“And here you are,” I said, pulling into the drive.
“You rock for driving me. Thank you.”
“Anytime.” I glanced up at the house, noticing for the first time that it was dark, as in completely. Not a porch light, nor a glimmer of light from inside. I gestured to the home, a little nervous for her now. “So, is anyone home in there?”
Courtney shifted. “My mom, but she sleeps a lot.”
I nodded. “I guess she trusts you to make curfew.”
“Not exactly. When my dad’s out of town, I don’t really have one. Polar opposite parenting styles.”
“I bet that keeps you on your toes.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “You have no idea. See you at school?”
I shrugged resolutely. “I’m mandated to be there.”
She laughed. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight. You’re a cool girl.” She winked at me and closed the door, leaving me no choice but to watch in awe as she walked to her house wit
h a gentle sway of her hips. Once she was inside, I closed my eyes at the prickles that danced across my skin. I touched my cheeks, feeling the blush, but my spirits were much too high to care.
On the drive back to my house, I blared the radio and smiled at this new development in my once boring and uneventful life. Courtney Carrington had come to town.
Chapter Three
Snow cones, hot dogs, dunking tanks, and strawberries galore. These were all the things that made the Peak of Berries Festival one of my favorite days of the year. Practically everyone in town showed up on the set-aside Saturday. Live music played from multiple bandstands, and the strawberry itself was full on celebrated in every way possible. Strawberry cakes, pies, tarts, cookies, slaw, barbecue sauce, milk, marmalade, salsa, salads, biscuits, donuts, ice cream, chilled soup, and more. If you could shove a strawberry into it, it was there and available to sample at the festival for just a few tickets. Hell, you could even get a fried strawberry.
Beringer’s, as always, had one of the biggest and busiest booths there. We served a mean strawberry and brie crostini in the midst of a sampling of delicious strawberry-influenced ice cream treats.
“What is this wonderful madness?” Courtney asked over the three people in front of her. She wore white shorts and a blue and white striped shirt and had her hair pulled back in a French braid.
I leaned down from the elevated booth. “Welcome to the Peak of Berries Festival! We do it every year. It’s my favorite event!” The festival just brought with it a sense of community that made me proud to be from Tanner Peak. Everyone was there and everyone was represented. The firemen performed demonstrations and posed with kids, the high school held a pie-throwing competition, and the library even had a nook with beanbag chairs and books galore.
“How about a strawberry float? You won’t be the same after.”
“Is that a good thing?” she asked nervously.
“You gotta trust me on this one.”
“One strawberry float, please,” she said, and handed me up three tickets.
I held up my hand in protest. “On the house.”
Strawberry Summer Page 4