by Janna King
“Oh.” Cole grimaced.
Mia stopped walking. “Me, Presley, Grant, Jade, and J.P. . . . we wanted the world to look at us when we really need to look at the world. I lost sight of what I even came here for.”
“Can I tell you something?” asked Cole. “That seagull image is not what I want to remember about you.” He turned Mia’s face to him.
Mia touched Cole’s scar. “What image do you want to remember?”
“Your amazing smile.”
Mia smiled at him, which made him smile. He lifted her chin and kissed her softly. The breeze felt good on her neck, but the soft graze of his fingers felt better. It was the most bittersweet kiss of her life.
That afternoon, Vincent drove Mia down Easy Street. He dropped her off at the harbor, where she had met Grant her first day.
“Bonne chance, Mia,” he said.
They kissed each other on both cheeks.
“Bonne chance,” replied Mia.
Mia climbed onto the ferry and never looked back. She knew what was behind her. It was a perfectly painted picture of beach paradise.
Sean picked her up at the Hyannis harbor terminal. They didn’t say a word on the drive home—they didn’t need to. Mia knew he loved her in a way that was real, and that sometimes he was pissed at her and thought she was doing the wrong thing. But he would tell her. He made it clear when he was angry or disappointed. Their family’s love was based on truth, because Mia’s mom was a terrible liar.
She thought about Cole and how different his life was from hers. She wondered if he’d actually liked one summer’s life as a seasonaire or if it all seemed like bullshit to him. She felt they’d made a true connection, but would she ever trust that it was real? When they were together, she felt his longing to be with her. What would his life be like now? What would hers?
When she got home, she ran her hand along the brick wall of her dull, old Southie building. It was bumpy and sharp and inconsistent in color and feel, unlike the meticulous white wood shingle facades on Nantucket. They looked smooth and clean, but would surprise you with a splinter.
Her apartment smelled stale and musty, like the air at the hospital. She pulled a lavender candle from the Nantucket farmers market out of her Lyndon Wyld canvas tote.
“Think we’ll ever be at a luxury resort again?” asked Kathryn. The lamp near her bed cast a dim light.
“If we want to be, we will,” said Mia. “Besides, luxury is a state of mind. She fluffed Kathryn’s pillows and wrapped Kathryn’s Lyndon Wyld cashmere sweater more snuggly around her. She kissed her mom’s forehead, her cheeks, and her nose, and they laughed.
She made dinner and Sean helped: spaghetti with magic marinara sauce. Her mom took an extra bite, especially for Mia.
After dinner, Mia sat at her grandma’s sewing machine and worked on the lace inlay shirt she’d started before Nantucket. When her eyes got too tired to scrutinize the stitches, she turned in.
In bed, she opened her laptop and scrolled through Twitter. She clicked a news piece on Grace, who would stand trial for both Grant’s death and Ruby’s assault. It was possible she could be sentenced for life. Prison was a far cry from the rarified air Grace had been breathing most of her adult life. According to the story, Lyndon was inconsolable.
Mia’s smartphone buzzed with a text. She picked it up from her nightstand and looked. It was from Presley:
You broke The Girl Vault.
Mia responded:
We both did.
Mia deleted Presley’s texts and blocked her number. She closed her social media accounts.
Two weeks later, she went back to her job at the thrift shop. She enjoyed arranging the pre-loved clothing and realized why she appreciated it so much. Unlike the newest arrivals in the hottest clothing line, each piece told a story about life.
In October, she applied to MassArt and was excited to find out if she got in. February rolled around. She hustled through the snow into the thrift shop for her shift and saw a blond woman perusing the racks.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to thank all those who helped make a dream my reality. To Jessica Case, my editor and fearless leader for her enthusiasm and thoughtful guidance. My deep appreciation goes out to the entire Pegasus team. To my literary agent, Adam Chromy, who prompted me to give it a go, and was there, tirelessly, all along the way. To Abrams Artists Agency, especially Manal Hammad, who has my back and keeps it real.
I would have been lost without Roz Weisberg, who is my creative guardian angel, as well as my wise friend. My thanks to Juliette Fassett for being the horse whisperer, and getting truly tickled about my endeavor. And to Aaron Berger, who is forever saying I can do it.
I must thank my mom, Joyce King Heyraud, who gave me my first journal and a pencil, and sent me to the park on my bike to write. I haven’t stopped since. And to my siblings, Stephanie Estes and Danny King—we walk through the fire together. A double cheek kiss to my stepfather, Henri Heyraud, who is genuinely interested in all my work. A huge hug for my aunt, Margaret Debbané. She and her husband, Elie, created a warm temporary writing nest for me during a time I’ll never forget. And I would thank my dad, Jeff King, if he were here. He was one-of-a-kind.
My thanks also extend to the other half of my immediate blended family—Kelly Kalichman and BG German. They help link together the important circle.
Gratitude from the bottom of my heart goes to my daughter, Izzy Kalichman, who reads what I write with a smart eye and an equally smart mouth. Her spirit inspires every ballsy female I invent. And to my son, Jake Kalichman, for doing the math and cheering me on with his wonderful kindness and humor.
Each step in this life adventure is made sweeter by my husband, David Samuels. His love, support and patience are a beautiful gift to me every single day. And for that, I give thanks.
THE SEASONAIRES
Pegasus Books, Ltd.
148 W 37th Street, 13th Floor
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2018 Janna King
First Pegasus Books edition May 2018
Interior design by Maria Fernandez
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review in a newspaper, magazine, or electronic publication; nor may any part of this book be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other, without written permission from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and occurrences herein are the product of the author’s imagination. Though real life locations feature as settings throughout the work, the incidents that occur herein are exclusively fictional. Any similarity in characters or events to real life people, living or dead, or actual occurrences, are coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN: 978-1-68177-739-9
ISBN: 978-1-68177-811-2 (e-book)
Distributed by W. W. Norton & Company
www.pegasusbooks.us
Table of Contents
Title
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Fifty-Three
Acknowledgments
Copyright