When he reached the boardwalk and Ocean Avenue, he steered away from town and toward the inns, cottages, and homes that sprang up on the beachside once the boardwalk ended. Soon, the Pierce and Sinclair mansions were just a short distance ahead. He smiled, and the heaviness in his heart was lifted away by the sight of the sea and surf and the warmth of the sun on his face.
He pulled into the circular drive of his family’s mansion and shut off the engine, then sat there for a long time, staring at his home. Glancing from it to the Sinclair mansion next door. The two houses shared so much history, and yet, to look at them, they seemed so far removed from each other.
Over a hundred years earlier, the two buildings had been small beach cottages used for only three seasons, since they didn’t have heat and were boarded up for the winter. Over the years, the cottages had been expanded and heat added, but the real change had occurred during Prohibition. The cottages had been razed and the larger homes had been built, prompting some to speculate that the families had been in cahoots with the bootleggers who brought rum up from the Caribbean or whiskey down from Canada and Ireland.
The small mansions had survived the financial downturn of the Depression and been lovingly maintained by the subsequent generations of Sinclair and Pierce descendants. For a while, the homes had looked rather similar, even after the start of the family feud. But that had all changed when Maggie’s mother had died.
The Sinclair mansion had been repainted in bright, lovely colors in honor of Maggie’s mom. Months later, the Pierce family home had been redone in shades of deep eggplant and dark charcoal, almost as if the house had gone into mourning. Jonathan and Owen’s mother had left a few years later, apparently tired of their father’s bitterness, and they had been barred from coming down to Sea Kiss. It had taken nearly a decade before Owen and he had returned, but in all that time, as far as he knew, his father had never once again visited their Jersey Shore home.
As he hopped out of the Jeep and walked to the front door, he kicked at the low edge of neatly trimmed boxwood along the walk, remembering when the beds had once been filled with rolling waves of colorful flowers and not the ruthlessly manicured shrubs. If he’d owned the home, he’d have put the flowers back in and, while he was at it, get rid of the funereal colors.
He entered and went straight to the french doors at the back of the house to get a better look at the surf. It had seemed to be pretty good from what he’d spotted as he drove, but he wanted to confirm it. Sure enough, there were some nice sets of waves breaking, and a few surfers were already out there, floating on the ocean’s surface while they waited to catch a wave.
Hurrying to his room, he changed into his board shorts and dashed down the stairs and to the garage to get his board. Within minutes, he was out on the water, flying along the crest of a wave. Sea mist spritzed his face, cooling the heat of the summer sun. As he kicked out, the board went one way, and he sank into the water. He let himself drift below the surface, savoring the refreshing temperature of the midseason ocean before the leash’s tug on his ankle reminded him to get his board.
He swam back to the surface, secured his board, and paddled back out to float, waiting for the right wave. He watched the other surfers catch a ride before he paddled into a wave, jumped to his feet, and flew across the sea until the wave died beneath him and he escaped into the ocean again.
Over and over, he surfed until the cold of the water ate into his body heat and his wrinkled fingers warned him that it was time to go in. On shore, he grabbed the towel he had tossed on the sand and rubbed it over his head and chest as he walked to the house. Since he planned on going back out tomorrow, he left the board in the mudroom and strolled to the kitchen table where his smartphone was buzzing away like a swarm of angry bees.
He grimaced, well aware of what that meant. He chastised himself before he picked up, because he should have called to let his partners know how the meeting had gone and that he had decided not to return to the office. Skimming through the messages, he did triage and decided it could all wait until he called his partner.
Dialing Andy, he wrapped the towel around his waist to stop dripping on the floor. His partner answered on the second ring.
“Glad to know you’re still alive,” Andy said, but there was no sting in his words.
“Sorry, dude. I ran into an old acquaintance at lunch and needed some space afterward.”
“I’m guessing a female acquaintance,” Andy kidded.
“You guessed right,” he said but swept aside further discussion of Connie. “The bean counters agree with our valuation for the AI company. They think we can swing it without selling off any of our shares.”
“That’s good. Are you down in Sea Kiss?”
Andy had always been able to read him. “Yeah, I am. I’ll probably stay through the weekend. Take advantage of being down here to look for a spot for the new research and development center.”
There was a long hesitation across the line before Andy said, “Are you really sure about doing this, Jon? About settling down in Sea Kiss?”
He knew his partner meant well, but considering what had happened just hours earlier, it was like having someone pick at a scab that had barely healed over.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he said, his tone determined.
His partner’s relieved sigh erupted across the line. “Thank God. While you’re at it, please pick up some of those home-buying magazines for me. My wife is already bugging me about finding a place,” his partner said.
“Sure thing, Andy. Let’s meet with Roscoe on Monday. We need to discuss how we want to approach the AI guys. I know Roscoe has doubts, but I think we should move on them before someone drops in before we do.”
“I agree, Jon. See you on Monday. Enjoy the surf,” Andy said and hung up.
Monday. Nearly four days away, and at one time, he would have relished so much time off with nothing to do but surf. But lately, lots of free time wasn’t as rewarding as it used to be. Especially since he’d sworn off women in the last few months. Like too much free time, the ladies he’d been seeing had been lame.
Connie would probably laugh to know that. Prickly Connie who always seemed to think the worst of him, although he had sensed some softening today at lunch. Some, but not enough. Despite that, she intrigued him far more than any of the women he’d been dating off and on. Mostly off.
The air-conditioning kicked on, raising goose bumps on his damp skin. Time to change and get clean. He lingered in the shower, chasing the chill of the ocean and AC from his body. He ran soapy hands all along his torso, wincing as he skimmed across a raw scrape earned from misjudging the sandy bottom when he’d wiped out.
His mind wandered to years past and Connie. Imagining those days made his knees go weak, but he drove those thoughts away. Satisfying himself with memories of making love with Connie wouldn’t fill the empty space inside him that demanded more than physical release. A space that demanded real passion and a real woman with whom to share it. For now, that was still out of reach. But he hoped that was something he could remedy in the future.
I only have to find the right woman, he thought and ignored the little voice that said that he already had. Connie was a part of his past, and he wasn’t quite sure that she could ever be part of his future.
Chapter 5
After her disturbing incident with Perez and her confusing lunch with Jonathan, Connie had gone home after work and vowed to relax. Instead, she found herself mindlessly watching television and needing to unload her problems before she exploded. Normally, she would have called Maggie, but her friend already had enough on her plate. She’d had a meeting with Maggie just the day before to discuss whether Maggie could take charge of saving her family’s stores, which were on the brink of bankruptcy. Unfortunately, her legal review had only made her friend’s life more difficult. Given what was going on in Maggie’s personal
life with Owen, any mention of Jonathan was impossible. Not to mention that when it came time to talk about men, both Maggie and her other best friend, recently married Tracy, had blinders on and believed that the happily ever after was possible. Unlike Emma and her, who knew better.
She wished that Emma wasn’t so far away in Sea Kiss. Sometimes, she even wished she could spend more time there, since she loved the place and the people. There was something about life in a quaint shore town that occasionally appealed to the city girl in her, but it just wasn’t in her game plan. Especially now, when she was so close to the partnership she’d been working toward for years. Maybe once she’d earned enough money to finish paying off her family’s house and put aside a little nest egg for herself. She had vowed as a child never to be in financial straits again.
Needing to talk to someone, she video-called Emma and was relieved when she picked up.
“Hey, Connie. How’s the hotshot lawyer doing today?”
“Not so good, Emma. What about you? Tame any bridezillas lately?” she said with a laugh.
Emma chuckled and shook her head. “Luckily, no bridezillas, so I didn’t have to get out the whip. But I can see your day sucked. What’s up?”
Connie rolled her eyes and said, “You wouldn’t believe.” She went on and gave Emma the blow-by-blow on her run-in with her despicable colleague while she finished the last few sips of the wine she’d poured to help herself unwind.
“He sounds like a total dickhead,” Emma said when Connie finished. Narrowing her gaze, Emma probed further. “But I can tell that’s not the only reason you called, Con. Spill. What’s bothering you?”
Drawing in a shaky breath, Connie leaned back against the pillows on her bed. She hesitated before she blurted out, “I had lunch with Jon today.”
Emma leaned closer to her phone, as if by doing so, she could get a better picture of her friend. “Jon? As in Jonathan Pierce? Are you freakin’ kidding me?”
Connie shook her head. “I wish I were. It’s almost like Fate is out to kick my ass. Here I am on the elevator, and whoosh, it stops on another floor. It never stops on another floor,” she almost wailed and went on to tell Emma about the lunch and the miserable way it had ended.
“I accused him of running away, but I was the one who ran out of there like the place was on fire. I’m the one who’s afraid of him.”
Her friend sat back, and Connie realized that Emma was still in her office at the bridal shop where she worked. Guilt slammed into her. “I didn’t realize you were stuck at the shop. I don’t want to keep you.”
“You’re not keeping me. Besides, I always have time for a friend. I’m sure you’d be there for me.”
She would. Just like she’d come running if one of her other friends needed her. “Thanks, Em.”
“You’re welcome, but I have to ask: Why does he scare you, Con?”
Dozens of reasons rampaged through her brain, but none of them made it to her mouth. At least, not at first, but then one snuck through. And then another. “Because he makes me want to forget everything I want. Everything I’ve worked so hard for. And because I’m not sure I can rely on him.”
Emma, ever-perceptive and intuitive Emma, was quick to cut to the chase. “He’s not your dad, and you’re not your mom. Besides, I don’t think that your mom regrets the choices she made.”
Connie glanced away from her phone, considering the statement. She’d never talked to her mother about her father. About the difficult decision that her mother had made that had changed her life—and Connie’s—forever.
At her hesitation, Emma forged ahead. “Trust me, Con. Talk to her about it. You might be surprised at what she says.”
I might be. Nodding, she said, “Thanks for listening.”
“I wish I could help more, but I’m the last person on the face of this earth to give advice about men.”
While Emma’s comment was not all that far off the mark, Connie recognized when her friend needed a pep talk. “You may think that, but you’re a great wedding planner because you can see past all the bullshit to what people really feel.”
Emma chuckled, raised a finger perfectly manicured in Barbie pink, and wiggled it back and forth. “Are you this obvious in court? Do you get a lot of objections about leading the witness?”
Smiling, Connie mimicked someone walking with her fingers. “Leading you right to your fabulous partner Carlo.”
“He’s not my partner,” Emma shot back.
“Friend?” Connie pressed.
“Well, yes, but in a platonic way,” Emma clarified.
Connie shook her head. “A shame. He’s prime, Emma. I’m assuming you’ve at least noticed that about him.”
With a huff and a glare, Emma said, “For sure. I’m not dead, you know.”
“Glad to hear that. Maybe you should take some of your own advice and talk to your mom about what happened with your dad.”
Connie waited for the explosion that usually followed any mention of Emma’s father, but surprisingly, her friend’s reply was measured and controlled. Only a slight nervous tremble in her voice provided any clue to her real emotions.
“Not possible. I’m still too hurt and angry.”
“Which is keeping you from moving on.” Connie did the walking fingers again and added, “And going right to Carlo. He loves you. Or at least he would if you let him.”
Emma’s long silence was worrisome, but then she nodded and said, “I promise I’ll think about it, but only if you swear you’ll talk to your mom.”
She would. Eventually, but not now, when her feelings were so unsettled. “You’re a tough negotiator, Em. I promise.”
An impish grin erupted on her friend’s face. “Score another one for the bridezilla tamer. Love you, Con.”
“Love you, Em.”
* * *
Jonathan paced back and forth across the kitchen, edgy energy racing across his nerve endings. A morning spent surfing hadn’t help tire out that energy. Skipping his morning coffees hadn’t either. That had only made him grumpy and given him a massive caffeine withdrawal headache. He was craving a huge mug of java, and while he could make it at the fancy coffee machine Owen had purchased because Maggie was a coffee addict, he had to get rid of his restlessness and the feeling that the house was just too big and too empty. For a second, the walls started closing in on him the way they had when Owen told him that their mom had left. But only for a too-long second as he wrestled back the desire to escape.
It was time to stop running. It was time to settle down for a bit, if only to be there for his brother if it all went south. He hoped for Owen’s sake that it didn’t, but if it did, he planned on supporting his brother just like his brother had taken care of him.
He grabbed the keys for the house and stuffed them into the pocket of his khaki shorts. Snagging a pair of sunglasses to guard against the intense midday sun, he hurried out the french doors, across the great lawn behind the mansion, and down the short boardwalk, over the dunes, and to the beach. It was just a mile or so walk to the jetty and lighthouse that marked the farthest part of Sea Kiss. Barely ten minutes later, he’d worked up a healthy sweat thanks to the hot summer day, but a sharp breeze sweeping along the river inlet by the jetty quickly cooled him down.
He strolled past the Main Street inns and houses nearest to the beach and boardwalk and up to the center of the business district and the shops there. The enticing smell of burgers grilling wafted out of the corner luncheonette, making his stomach growl, but first, he had to have his coffee. Pushing past the restaurant, he walked by a real estate office, hardware store, and the local surf and skate shop where he got his wax, clothes, and shoes, as well as his favorite longboard. He should have ridden that skateboard to town. Maybe he’d pick up a new one on his way back.
A cheese shop came next, tempting him yet again, but like his brother, he had a
dangerous sweet tooth and walked into the adjacent bake shop. He fixed himself the largest coffee they had and added a glazed donut and chocolate cigar to the mix. He munched and sipped as he kept walking up to Fireman’s Park in the center of town, where he sat on a bench and watched the various dogs and their pet parents who were out enjoying the glorious day. At one corner of the park square, a local animal shelter had set up a stand, and after he finished his sweet treats, he strolled over. A trio of cages held an assortment of kittens for adoption, but as cute as they were, he had always been a dog kind of guy.
“They’ve got all their shots and are ready to go home with a special someone,” one of the shelter ladies said cheerfully.
He smiled but demurred. “I’m not really into kittens.” Basically because they grew up to be cats, not that there was anything wrong with that.
“It’s your lucky day then. We’ve got quite a number of puppies and dogs available at the shelter today. It’s just a few blocks away,” she replied, still bubbling with happy.
It made him wonder if it was an animal thing, the joyfulness and optimism. He’d read more than one article about all the benefits of having a pet. As one kitten peered at him from the cage and meowed playfully, he had to confess that something inside him lightened a little, which for some reason had him saying, “I know where it is, thanks.”
He pivoted on his heel, and instead of heading back through town, he found himself walking in the direction of the shelter where, a few minutes later, another perky volunteer was guiding him past a row of cages filled with puppies. Cute, fluffy, hyper, little puppies yipping and yapping as he strolled by.
What Happens in Summer Page 5