That Last Summer (Whispering Pines Island Book 1)

by Sara LaFontain

  That was my only trip out here in the winter. It was so f-ing cold. Like really. Like you have to learn to snowshoe if you want to go anywhere, and you can’t go outside with wet hair because it will turn to ice and snap off.

  As a Texan, that was my first experience with a real actual winter. Our occasional ice storms were nothing compared to it. We had fun playing in the snow though, and Matteo took us sledding. And actually, the first time Cara and I ever got drunk was that Christmas with Matteo. We got super wasted and then tried to go sledding again. He broke his wrist in an accident that I may have caused, but we didn’t want to tell anybody because we were so drunk (btw drinking age is 21 here, it’s not like Italy where I assume they put Chianti in baby bottles). So for some reason, we thought if he stuck his arm in the snow it would help with the pain and swelling. Yeah, that was dumb. He got frostnip, and he’s lucky it wasn’t worse. But hey, that’s what he gets for taking snow advice from a couple of Texas girls.

  Back to the pictures though. I’ve included a view of the village that I took from the ferry, so you can actually see almost the whole thing. I love it, but it’s kind of weird sometimes. See how tiny it is? And since it’s so small, there’s a lot of gossiping—people that live here know everything about everyone all the time, pretty much immediately. True story, one year I got way too drunk at the bar and took a rather embarrassing fall on my way out the door. The next day everybody I talked to teased me about hangover, asked if I broke my ankle, etc. Every damn person.

  But it’s nice that when I’m working I can call up any business and say, ‘Hey, it’s Amy. I’m trying to do whatever,’ and they know me. And they’re like, ‘Amy! How are you? Did you hear about X, Y, and Z? But enough gossip, sure, I can help with whatever.’ One year, we had the town square set up for the annual Fourth of July barbeque (one of my favorite events, btw), when, suddenly, the clouds rolled in, and the sky turned black. Someone shouted, ‘to the community center.’ And every single person there—not just the people working, but every single island resident—grabbed stuff and started moving it indoors. We had the entire event disassembled outside and reassembled inside in less than fifteen minutes. That’s community spirit.

  Wow, this email is getting way longer than I intended. Sorry about that. I just miss you so much and wish you were here. Also, I’m trying to distract you and cheer you up a bit. Your last message sounded so unhappy. I’m so sorry about your grandmother. I know it’s trite, but at least you do get to spend these remaining days with her. I’d fly there in a heartbeat to help you if I could, but Cara needs me here. You know why. And something else, too. I think this is the last summer we’ll be working together, and I think she feels it too. It’s like it’s finally time to settle down. That’s what you told me, isn’t it? You said I wasn’t serious enough about anything. I am, and you know it.

  I miss you.

  Chapter Fifteen

  From the Inn at Whispering Pines blog:

  The weather forecast is calling for three damp, drizzly days. I know that’s not what you look for when you’re booking your Whispering Pines vacation, but don’t worry, you’ll still be able to enjoy your visit. Rainy days on Whispering Pines are made for relaxing and enjoying peaceful time with your loved ones.

  For guests staying at the inn, if you don’t want to venture out into the cold, you won’t have to. We’ll keep a roaring fire going for you in the lobby. The activity shelves in the lobby are full of board games and decks of cards, and we’re happy to arrange gaming tournaments in our dining room (until 4:00 p.m., when we set up for dinner service). Chef Samuel has given me his personal guarantee that he will keep the lobby stocked with various flavors of popcorn, hot chocolate, and some coffee that was locally roasted by Sato. (If you’ve stayed here in the past ten years, you already know and love him, but don’t you love him more now that he’s providing us with coffee?)

  My 9:00 a.m. yoga class will be moved to the ballroom, even if it isn’t raining at that time. I know; I too prefer the peace of the grove, but I don’t like getting rained on, and I don’t want to get the mats all wet from the damp ground. If there’s any interest, I’ll be happy to add an afternoon yoga class as well. I’ll put a sign-up sheet at the desk.

  Our usual Wednesday night bonfire has been canceled due to the weather. But that just means we have to use our backup activity. So yes, Karaoke Madness is back! We’ve got the song list at the front desk, if you want to peruse the selections in advance. Soft drinks will be provided; beer and wine will be available at the cash bar. You don’t have to have a good singing voice, just bring your enthusiasm and be ready to have some fun.

  If karaoke isn’t your thing, and you want to spend some time outside, the hot tubs are actually quite lovely in the rain. However, if there’s lightning or thunder, they will be closed.

  Outside of the inn, there are still plenty of things to do. Ask us at the desk for umbrellas and/or rain ponchos, and then get out and explore. Go out to the woods—the pine trees will protect you from most of the water, and there is something very peaceful about hiking through the forest with the sounds of raindrops falling gently around you.

  Our electric carts have rain shields to keep you dry as well, so Tyrell and Sato will be happy to take you into the village for some shopping or dining. Stop in Darling’s Chocolatiers and try their hot chocolate, or spend some time at Margaux’s Corner Bakery and Coffee Shoppe for some fresh-baked treats. The pizza oven at Antonio’s will keep you nice and warm, or pop into The Digs and have Timmy make you something special. Tell him Amy sent you, and maybe he’ll put an extra shot in your drink (or maybe he’ll call to yell at me about creating specials without his approval again; try it and we’ll find out together).

  Chapter Sixteen

  The first major thunderstorm of the summer rolled in on a Wednesday evening. The inn was supposed to have a bonfire that night, but the backup activity, a karaoke party, was going on in the ballroom instead. Cara could hear an occasional burst of music over the pouring rain, whenever someone opened the ballroom doors. At one point, she heard an off-key rendering of an old Dolly Parton song and knew that Amy had convinced Tyrell to cover the front desk so she could participate.

  Cara briefly thought about going down and joining them, but chose instead to watch the storm from the swing on the staff-house porch. From here, she could see the lightning over the trees, and there, in the distance, over the lake. She loved watching storms from here. It always took her back to her childhood, when things were so much simpler.

  Her first experience with lake storms had occurred when she was nine and she and her mother came to live with Uncle Paddy. Her father, an oil engineer, had been sent to the Middle East; and her mother flatly refused to accompany him. A month after her dad left, Paddy called, crying, and told them that his partner had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Her mom immediately packed their bags, and they flew up to help. Cara had been excited, though she knew that their stay was colored by tragedy. She had always loved her Uncle Robert, and he was wasting away. And Paddy, who had always been so friendly and cheerful, became a shadow of himself.

  But getting to live on the island! It was magical. She was enrolled in the tiny schoolhouse where the grades were combined and there were only thirty students. After school, she was allowed to roam wherever she wanted, and the other kids were happy to show her all the secret spots among the pines and the best places to play without being bothered by adults.

  One night she was awoken by her mother, gently touching her shoulder. “Mom?” she asked, and her first worry was that something bad had happened to Uncle Robert, but then she heard the thunder that seemed to shake the roof. How had she been sleeping through that?

  “Come outside and watch the storm with me,” her mom said. She made them both hot chocolate, and they sat on the porch swing wrapped in a blanket.

  Cara was scared at first, but sitting there, leaning on her mother, she knew she was safe. “I love these storms,” her mother to
ld her, and they talked softly while the lightning flared above.

  That became one of Cara’s most treasured memories, one she called on when she was lonely. It had been nearly thirteen years, and the loss of her mother still hurt her every single day. If her mother had still been around, she often reflected bitterly, everything with Phil might have been different. Cara would have been smart enough not to fall so hard for him, or, maybe strong enough to leave when things first went bad. Maybe then Phil would still be alive and Cara wouldn’t still be fighting all this crushing guilt.

  It was getting cold outside, and Cara yawned. She was about to get up and go to bed when a flash of lightening revealed someone coming, running up the path in the rain. As the figure reached the porch, she recognized a completely sodden Sam.

  “You know we have umbrellas at the reception desk. We wouldn’t even make you put down a deposit to take one,” she told him as he bent down to take off his soaking shoes. She tried not to stare at the way his wet T-shirt clung to his skin, and she definitely tried not to check out his white chef’s pants, and she tried even harder to keep her eyes off anything outlined by the wet fabric of those pants.

  “I know, I just didn’t realize it was raining so hard. Why aren’t you at the karaoke party?”

  “I like watching the storm,” she replied. “Plus, I heard Amy down there. If I go, she’ll drag me up in front of everyone and make me sing ‘I Will Survive’. Why aren’t you?”

  “I did the food for it and didn’t feel the need to stick around. Paddy’s working as bartender, so I wanted to get away before he came up with any creative ideas for me to whip up. Plus, haven’t you heard me sing? I can’t put the guests through that.” He ran a hand through his hair, accidentally splashing droplets of water at her. “I need to go change out of these wet clothes before I freeze to death.”

  With that, he was gone, and she had to stay on the porch. She didn’t want him to think she was following him inside. She sighed and wondered how long she would have to wait.

  A few minutes later, Sam reappeared, hair still damp, but now dressed in a dry sweatshirt and jeans. He had a big wool blanket with him and two mugs. “You looked cold,” he said and passed her one of them.

  Hot chocolate, just like her mother used to make. She took a sip. Ok, not quite like her mother used to make. Her mother never added Bailey’s.

  “Scoot over,” Sam suggested, and then he sat next to her and covered both of their laps with the blanket. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” He spoke in the careful tone of someone who wanted to make sure he wasn’t giving the wrong impression.

  Cara wanted to cry. She wanted to tell him that bringing her hot chocolate and a blanket was the sweetest thing anyone had done for her in a really long time, but she couldn’t bring herself to say those words, so she just nodded.

  “Cheers,” he tipped his cup against hers. “To the first storm of the season.”

  “How about cheers to avoiding having to sing to a bunch of strangers?” she suggested. His laugh rang out heartily. Oh, how she had missed that laugh.

  “Alright, I’ll drink to that. It’s going to be a good summer, isn’t it?” His fingers tapped against his mug. There was a particularly loud burst of thunder, and she felt his body jump. He brushed against her, and she didn’t move away.

  It was strange to sit here, thighs touching, yet still so uncertain of what to say. She tried to ignore the feelings his body stirred up in hers, though it was difficult. Relax, she told herself. She should be happy to have those feelings again. She had thought Phil had killed off any sexual thoughts.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Sam said, after a long and slightly awkward silence, “but I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this kind of thing. I know you’re in a vulnerable place right now, so I don’t want you to think that I’m making any moves on you or anything. It’s just nice to be friends again.”

  “Yeah, I’ve missed you too,” she admitted, though there was a twinge of regret at his use of the word friends. As always, Phil’s voice whispered, you’ll never find someone who loves you as much as me, angel.

  Sam shifted and stretched his arm out along the back of the swing, and for a second she felt her body freeze. Damn Phil for making her react like this. Sam immediately apologized.

  “Sorry, I was just trying to get comfortable. I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said, and started to withdraw the arm.

  “No, you’re fine, I’m just jumpy” she said, and daringly leaned over to rest against him. She could do this; she trusted Sam. He would never hurt her. When his arm came around her shoulders and he hugged her to him, she felt safe and relaxed, a feeling that had been foreign to her for a long time. This is how I’m supposed to feel, she reminded herself.

  “Tell me about your winter job. How was Aspen?” she asked, and as he talked she closed her eyes and listened. The rhythm of his voice soothed her, and she drifted off to sleep, a sleep that was, for once, blissfully dreamless.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Email from Amy O’Connell to Fabio Basile:

  Terrible storm last night, and you know what that means . . . karaoke party. Don’t worry, I didn’t embarrass myself (too much). I dedicated a song to you, but you’ll have to guess which one. Hint: It was something dirty. But get this, when I was walking back to the house, I saw Cara all snuggled up on the porch swing with that cook Sam. I know I’ve told you about him. What do I do to stop this? She doesn’t need Mr. Grabby Hands all over her.

  Email from Amy O’Connell to Fabio Basile:

  I know she can make her own choices and I know I said she needs to move on. I just want her to find a decent guy for a change. In Sam’s first summer here, he f-ed his way through half the island. Surely she’s got another option? Hey, why don’t you send your cousin out here for her? He seems nice, and who cares if he can’t speak English? You can come too, to translate.

  And to see me. I miss you.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Whispering Pines, June 2013

  Cara was sitting in the staff office trying to update accounts on the computer and half listening to Amy at the reception desk arguing with Matteo about placement of his new brochures. “You can stick them over there with every other business,” Amy kept telling him, but Matteo insisted that they needed to be placed directly behind the service bell. Cara was amused by their argument and starting to wonder if it was more flirtatious than anything else when it suddenly stopped.

  “Holy shit. Incoming!” Matteo exclaimed, turning towards the windows.

  At the same time Amy called out, “Hey, Cara, I thought we were full. We don’t have anyone coming in today, do we? Was I supposed to send a pick-up to the ferry?”

  Cara emerged from the office to see one of the pedicabs dropping off an astonishingly beautiful blond woman. They watched as she stepped down and the driver lifted out an expensive-looking rolling suitcase.

  “Damn, Amy, check her out,” Matteo said approvingly. “I bet the boys fought over who got to give her a ride here. Hey, if you’re full, she can stay with me. I hope she likes dogs.”

  “She’s carrying a Birkin bag and dragging a Fendi that costs at least four grand. No way would a woman like that allow you or your muddy dogs near her,” Amy replied. She had an eye for pricey luggage, refined while working at several rather exclusive resorts.

  “And anyway, Matty, we only refer people to reputable establishments.” Cara told him as he rushed to open the lobby door.

  The blond entered, bringing with her a cloud of expensive perfume, and took her sunglasses off. “Do you have a room available?”

  They didn’t, of course. They were completely full now and for the next two weeks.

  “I’m so sorry, we don’t,” Amy said. “But I’d be happy to call some of the other lodging in town and see if they have any vacancies.” She was just being polite; she and Cara both knew it was a hollow offer. In June, everything on the island was booked. It was the busy season. Nobody came to
Whispering Pines without reservations, unless they wanted to end up sleeping on a bench in the square.

  The confidence on the woman’s face evaporated, and she looked suddenly uncertain. “Hmmm . . . I don’t know. Maybe. Actually, there is something else you can help me with. I came out here to surprise my boyfriend.”

  “If you give me his name, I can call his room for you,” Amy offered. “I should warn you though, most of our guests are out and about right now taking advantage of this beautiful weather.”

  Probably a mistress, then. At any rate, Cara decided Amy had it all under control and turned to go back into the office, but the next words stopped her.

  “Oh, no, actually he’s not a guest. He works here. It’s hard though, since you don’t have cell service and he’s not allowed to use the inn phone or computer for personal communications. I don’t know how any of you put up with being cut off from your friends and family like that. I know it’s just for the summer, but we miss each other so much when he’s here. So I thought, why not come out and surprise him?”

  Matteo had lost interest the second the word ‘boyfriend’ came out of her mouth. Tyrell? he mouthed at Cara, who shook her head in response. She was completely confident this had nothing to do with Tyrell.