Summer at Firefly Beach: The perfect feel-good summer romance

by Jenny Hale

  “I’m excited to see what they have,” Hallie said. “If there’s more work like the photograph in Wes and Maggie’s, I might have to break out my wallet.”

  Ben seemed to enjoy her excitement. “Is your camera in your handbag?”

  “No,” she said. “Wes said the owner is a trained photographer, an artist like him. The last thing they would want to see is my unskilled photography.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  “I’m self-taught.”

  “So was van Gogh.”

  Hallie laughed.

  “What’s so funny up there?” Mama called from behind.

  “Ben’s comparing me to van Gogh,” Hallie said over her shoulder. Mama laughed, and Hallie was glad someone had sense enough to find it funny.

  They reached a thick maple door with beveled glass panes.

  The gallery was in an old house that had been converted into a business. Against its blue clapboard siding, an “Open” sign hung beside a small emblem to the right of the door, with the name of the gallery in bright red and yellow streaks of paint. Ben opened the door and let Hallie enter as her mother and Robby caught up, meeting them on the porch.

  The timeworn wooden floors creaked underneath their feet as they entered the space. There were vacationers browsing inside, talking quietly about the different pieces. The walls had a fresh coat of white paint to showcase the modest black frames that allowed the photography to speak for itself.

  It was like walking into heaven for Hallie, every single shot evoking emotion and a barrage of questions as to the technique. She’d never seen angles like those, or the way the colors of ordinary things blended to make a brand-new, almost abstract image. It was right up her alley—an alley she never realized she had. She’d always liked to take photographs, but until she’d seen these pictures, her technique had been a shot in the dark. Hallie twisted her head to the side to determine how the photographer had captured one photo in particular. Not only did she see the photography itself, but she had a million ideas of where to put each piece, what to place around it; she imagined different locations that would highlight the colors.

  “I’m going to take Robby to the shop next door for a look around at the toys,” Mama said into Hallie’s ear. “He might be a bit too restless in here. They all look expensive…” Then she waved to Ben and Hallie and went back through the front door.

  Ben stood beside Hallie, curious and interested himself by the photos. While he wasn’t a photographer, he’d always appreciated Hallie’s work and he’d been supportive of it. Hallie was so taken with the images, as she moved from one to the next, that she barely noticed the fact that someone new was standing in the entryway with them.

  “Do you like what you see?”

  She tore her eyes away from a shot of a mint-flavored ice cream cone that almost took on the same quality as the sand and water outside. It was incredible. But what was even more surprising than that was the person who was standing before her.

  “Gavin?”

  “Hi.” He was drinking her in, clear delight on his face at seeing her. “I took that one right outside.” He pointed to the ice cream cone.

  “These are yours?” She gestured toward the shot on the wall.

  “Yep.”

  “Do you two know each other?” Ben asked, his curiosity clearly growing to astronomical levels as he looked between the two of them.

  “Ah, yes,” Gavin said, “we met at Starlight Cottage. I’m doing some trim painting for Hank Eubanks.”

  “Why are you painting houses?” Hallie asked, completely floored that someone with this amount of talent would be slapping blue paint onto the trim at the cottage.

  “Funny story.” Gavin led the way into the house, each room’s artwork designed to have its own personality—some were more masculine, while others were lighter and softer in tone and color. “Your uncle called here because apparently I’m the only one in town that comes up on an online search for the word ‘painter’, and he specifically wanted someone new to the area.”

  “New to the area?”

  “I moved here just a few months ago.”

  Then it hit Hallie. She knew how Uncle Hank thought, and she was willing to bet that he would only let someone onto the property who couldn’t possibly be the trespasser. While she’d already decided that Gavin was too kind to be lurking in bushes, this made her feel considerably better. Although, when she looked at Ben, he was eyeing Gavin suspiciously.

  Gavin pointed her toward a room to the right and Hallie gasped.

  “You paint too?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Large canvases covered the walls, all of them abstract but with actual images hidden in them, just like his photographs.

  “These are absolutely stunning.”

  “Thanks.”

  “The photos you take look like they’re shot in natural light. You play with that same color in these paintings.”

  “That’s right,” he said, smiling at her, those green eyes on her.

  “I’d like to have a long conversation about the lighting and your use of angles, but I don’t want to monopolize all your time. I know you’re working.”

  “We can chat about it tonight then.”

  A new interest washed over Ben’s face. “Tonight?” he asked.

  Gavin explained, “We’re going out tonight.” Just then, a woman asked him a question and he politely moved toward her to answer.

  Ben’s attention turned entirely to Hallie, all those thoughts filling his eyes, and she knew that he was getting overprotective like he did whenever she dated someone new. He didn’t have to. She was a grown woman, fully capable of taking care of herself. But she could understand his concern, given the fact that they still hadn’t found who was peeking in on the Starlight Estate.

  “We’re going out as friends,” she added in a whisper. But it didn’t seem to change anything in the expression on Ben’s face. He swiveled around to look at one of the paintings, and she wondered what he wasn’t saying.

  When Gavin returned, he was clearly trying to figure out the dynamic between Hallie and Ben, and she knew that she’d have to explain their relationship to him sooner rather than later.

  One thing was for sure: she’d learned from Jeff that anyone who didn’t like Ben wasn’t worth her time.

  * * *

  Hallie stood in the bathroom at Starlight Cottage, wearing her favorite baby blue sundress, the strappy sandals with the wedge heels, and her silver teardrop earrings as she combed her hair in the mirror. The summer sun had laced tiny gold strands through her chestnut hair.

  “Where is he taking you?” Ben asked. He was sitting on the edge of the tub with a bag of chips in his hand while she finished her hair. He popped one of the chips into his mouth and crunched on it.

  “I’m not sure.” She applied her barely there lip gloss. When Ben didn’t say anything, she looked over at him and saw he was staring at her. “What?”

  “You don’t even know him. And you’re going somewhere with him by yourself. With everything going on with strangers on the property, shouldn’t he at least tell you where you’re going? How do you know he’s a good guy?”

  “You’re worrying unnecessarily. I have my cell phone, it’s fully charged. And everyone knows who Gavin is—he owns a gallery in town. He’s not some guy I picked up off the street.”

  Ben was quiet.

  His behavior was upsetting her, and now she had a strange feeling about going out with Gavin, even just as friends. She suddenly wanted to change into her pajamas and curl up on the sofa with Ben. Maybe it was because her emotions were right on the surface with everything going on, or perhaps it was her own insecurities after her breakup. But she had to be strong and move forward. Nothing would change if she stayed in with Ben tonight.

  “I’m a grown woman and it’s just an evening out,” she said, her voice breaking, causing him to focus on her, his hand stilling in the bag of chips. He pulled his fingers o
ut of the bag and set the chips on the tub. “It’s going to be a perfectly wonderful night—it’s something positive, which has rarely happened to me in the last few months. I’ll be just fine.”

  He stood up, those eyes flooded with unsaid thoughts. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just a natural reaction.”

  “Why is it natural to make me feel like I have to be afraid?”

  “You don’t have to be afraid of them.” He looked as though the words had come out against his will, intensity engulfing his face. He turned away quickly and picked up the bag of chips.

  What did he mean by that? Now he wasn’t making any sense.

  “Hallie?” Sydney came to the door. She peered over Hallie’s head at Ben, probably wondering what they were talking about. “Gavin just drove up. I’ll let him in.”

  Ben ran his hands through his hair, frustrated.

  “Ben,” she started, but he stopped her.

  “It’s fine,” he said calmly. “Enjoy your night.” He kissed her on the cheek and headed out. Hallie followed him.

  Ben walked past Gavin and greeted him politely before leaving through the door. She watched him make his way to the guesthouse, wishing she could’ve had more time to discuss what was bothering him before going out.

  “You okay?” Gavin asked. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He was casual, but it looked as though he’d put a little work into his appearance, his hair combed, his face clean-shaven.

  “Yes. Sorry,” she said, putting on a happy face.

  “You look nice.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re forgetting something,” he said, his eyes on her hands.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your camera. You’ll definitely need it tonight. When I called a few minutes ago, your uncle suggested I look at some of your photos.”

  “Oh my goodness, he told you?” she said, embarrassed.

  Sydney ran off down the hallway and returned with the camera, passing it to Hallie.

  “You don’t have to let me see your photos if you don’t want to,” he said. “But you do have to bring your camera. I’ve got a few things in mind to show you tonight that look best through its lens.” He ushered her forward and waved to Sydney, who handed Hallie her handbag on their way out of the cottage.

  “What else did my uncle tell you?” she asked as he opened the door to his truck, the cool leather on her legs an immediate relief from the heat outside. She held her camera and her handbag in her lap.

  “Not much. Why? Is there more to know?”

  “I don’t think so. How about you? There’s more to know, for sure. Where you’re from. Why you moved here. Why you decided to open the gallery…”

  He took in a deep breath, his eyebrows rising. “Wow. Each one of those might take me all night to explain. How long have you got?”

  Even though it seemed, by his reaction, to be a range of heavy topics for him, it was as if he wanted to tell her, and she was interested. “I’ve got as long as it takes.”

  With a grin, Gavin started the truck and headed down the long drive to the street.

  THIRTEEN

  Hallie couldn’t help but consider Ben’s concern as Gavin drove them out of town, down a winding road lined with trees. It had started to get dark and she had no idea where she was. She sneaked a peek at her cell phone and there was no service, making her suddenly nervous. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To dinner.” Gavin looked over at her, and seemed to guess her slight apprehension. He added, “At my house. It’s outside of town because I like to have the quiet to paint and edit my photographs. I’m most creative in the silence.”

  He pulled up a long gravel drive and came to a stop in front of a fully restored two-story colonial home. It had white siding and midnight black wooden shutters, large iron hinges holding them in place. A front porch wrapped around three sides of it, shaded by towering oak trees with limbs covered in moss.

  “All this for just you?” she asked.

  “Not originally, but now it is.” Gavin got out of the truck and walked around to open her door. “Watch your step.” He held out his hand to steady her as she trod on the uneven stones of the drive.

  “This is incredible.” Hallie tilted her head up to view the three brick chimneys that protruded from the slate roof.

  “Thank you,” he said, as he let go of her.

  “Do you own this?”

  “I’ve had it for a while but just now finished it. The renovations got… delayed.” He offered a shaky smile and then opened the front door.

  The outside was traditional but the inside was filled with modern amenities. Gavin clicked on the lights, illuminating the room with recessed lighting nestled in the raised ceilings. It gave off a warm glow against the white interior. He turned on a few more rustic light fixtures that offered a laid back, traditional feel. They walked toward the kitchen along soft maple-glazed hardwoods as wide as the planks of a ship, leading to a stone fireplace that took up the entire wall of the living area, which, along with the kitchen, was open to where they were standing. None of that compared, however, to the smell of dinner wafting toward her.

  “What are you cooking?” she asked.

  “I’m not cooking anything,” he said. “I have a housekeeper named Geraldine. She’s the best cook I’ve ever met—simply amazing. And she has this way of drawing me in and making me talk. I let it slip that I’d asked you out, and before I could explain that we’d decided to simply meet as friends, she insisted she cook this romantic feast for us. She put it in the oven before she left.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  Gavin went over to a wine fridge and opened the glass door. “I have several types of wine…” He pulled the bottles from inside and set them on the counter, shutting the door. “And of course, I also have the typical: lemonade, water, iced tea…”

  “I’ll have a glass of white, thank you,” she said, setting her handbag and camera down on one of the bar stools. “You just moved here?” she asked.

  “Yep. I’m originally from North Carolina, but I wanted a new start and less snow…” He popped the cork out of the bottle and poured two glasses.

  “Is the lack of snow the only thing that brought you here?”

  He handed her a glass. “For me, I’m most creative when I’m around light, and North Carolina had become a sort of dark place.” He stared into her eyes kindly, as if he was hoping she’d ask him to elaborate, but at the same time he seemed nervous to say more. He turned away and checked the oven.

  “How so?” Through the window, she caught sight of fireflies in the blue light that remained from the last strip of sun on the horizon behind all the trees, but she couldn’t get a good view of them from where she was sitting. Gavin started to talk, pulling her focus back to him.

  “I dated someone for a very long time. Her name was Gwen.” The woman’s name came out as if he’d had to work to actually say it. “She had a heart defect, and it went undetected until it was too late. She died two years ago. This was going to be our home, but Gwen never got to see it.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “Like I said earlier.” He tried to smile, talking on an exhale. “I’m not practiced at this sort of thing. I didn’t want to bring your spirits down with a sad story, but it’s my story, so I figured that if I want to have any sort of friendship with you, I should get it out there. It might help you understand me a little more.”

  The oven timer went off, and he grabbed a potholder to pull a gloriously rich seafood casserole out of the oven. He set it on a trivet next to the stove.

  “I’ve only told one other person in Firefly Beach my story, and that’s your uncle. He and I related to each other on our shared experiences. It’s funny how it happened. He sounded so sad on the phone when he called for the quote to paint the trim that, even though I don’t usually paint houses, I felt compelled to at least give him my time and go out to see the project. We spent hours on his porch.
I told him I was new here and then it all just came out, and we both sat misty-eyed for a while. I took the job. I couldn’t tell him no.”

  Hallie found herself leaning on the bar, her hand in her chin, listening to him. How incredibly moving that he and Uncle Hank were there to support each other. And what a sweet gesture to take on the job even though Gavin clearly had other responsibilities.

  “When I first met your uncle, and explained that I was a different kind of painter than what he was looking for and I actually owned a gallery, we got to talking about the different media I use, and my photography. He told me that he thought you should be a photographer,” Gavin said, leaving the dish to cool and returning to his glass of wine.

  “My family seems to think I could be, but I’ve never pursued it.” She felt less intimidated by him now, and found it easy to talk to him.

  “Mm.” Gavin picked up her glass, holding both of them. “Grab your camera and come with me.”

  He walked over to a small table where his own camera was sitting, and then opened the back door. As if the house wasn’t magnificent enough, the back gardens were unquestionably the most beautiful southern gardens she’d ever seen, with rows of hedges, bright green grass, and flowers everywhere she looked, all under a canopy of trees. She could hardly see it all in the near dark, and could only imagine how expansive they were in the light of day. She turned around to find Gavin; he was at a stone fire pit in the center of the patio, throwing small logs into it. He grabbed some matches that were sitting on the ledge and lit the logs, a tiny blue flicker erupting into a dancing orange flame. With a light tug, he pulled a chair over to the fire and moved Hallie’s glass from the edge of the pit to the wide wooden arm of the chair.