What Happens in Summer

by Caridad Piñeiro

  Grabbing her phone, she called for a car to take her home. It was hours past the last ferry ride to Jersey City. Luckily, at this hour, the traffic through the Lincoln Tunnel would be light, making for a short trip home. But not short enough to avoid thoughts of Jonathan and their rather awkward call earlier.

  Her uneasiness hadn’t been about reviewing the contract. It had been all about the weekend they’d spent together and where they would go from there. Could they do the whole “let’s do dinner” thing and date as if they hadn’t been intimate? Incredibly intimate like old-time lovers who were thoroughly comfortable with each other.

  Which they were. They’d spent an entire summer as lovers. Even back then, it had been spontaneous and wild and satisfying. That hadn’t changed, and Jonathan wasn’t entirely to blame. In fact, if she was honest, she’d been the one to push the envelope, because she found him just too irresistible.

  But I have to resist, she thought, her stomach doing a little turn as they entered the tunnel. She hated tunnels. Hated the thought of being underneath all that water with limited ways out. It was why she’d chosen a condo close to one of the ferry stops in Jersey City. She held her breath as they sped through the tunnel, grateful for the lack of traffic that kept them moving. She’d been stuck in traffic many times with stomach-churning results.

  As the sedan pulled out into the fresh air, she released her breath. With a sense of freedom restored, thoughts of Jonathan returned. Jonathan, who was so free of spirit. Full of light and life. Funny and unpredictable.

  Unpredictable, unpredictable, unpredictable, she repeated over and over. It was her biggest bone of contention with him. Since the day he’d walked out that summer night, she’d known that Jonathan wasn’t one to stay. And he’d reminded her the other day during lunch that he was a rolling stone. She’d thought he hadn’t changed, and yet in the weeks leading up to the wedding and after, there had been a glimmer of something different in him. Something more substantial and steady. Something that said maybe she wasn’t crazy to be seeing him again.

  When the sedan arrived at her condo building, she thanked the driver and stepped out. She turned and glanced back across to Manhattan, where Jonathan was. For now, since he wanted to move to Sea Kiss. And when he does, where does that leave me? she thought as a breeze off the river brought a fall chill that made her shiver.

  She’d always imagined herself as a partner in a big New York City law firm, which seemed at odds with Jonathan’s plan. Two words she’d never thought to use together: Jonathan’s plan. If Jonathan could actually make a commitment to live and work in Sea Kiss, maybe it was time for her to consider that her plan could change. Maybe, she thought, whirled on one heel, and strolled into her building.

  Chapter 19

  Connie had delivered her comments on the contract for the purchase of the new building just as she’d promised. Jonathan had detected a hint of weariness in her as she’d called to discuss the changes she’d recommended and their plan for contacting the town council. He’d written that off to the late nights she’d apparently had to work in the past week. It was also why he hadn’t been all that upset when she’d put off having dinner with him. Or at least that’s what he told himself midweek. With the weekend approaching and his search for a new house progressing, he video-called her on Thursday night after texting her to see if she was up and at home.

  “Hey, Jon,” she answered and shot him a tired smile. There were faint smudges beneath eyes that had none of their usual bright light.

  “Hey yourself, Reyes. How are you doing?” he asked despite worrying what the answer would be.

  She sighed, looked away, and dragged her fingers through her hair in apparent frustration. “I’m still a little crazy here. It seems like every time I turn around, Goodwyn has another ‘project’ for me,” she said, air quoting the one word.

  Since she’d told him about what was happening at her office, he had no doubt that Goodwyn was trying to make her unhappy so she’d quit and save him the battle with his partners about whether Connie should move up in the firm. “I’m sorry he’s making your life miserable.” He wanted to tell her to tell her boss to fuck off, but Connie had never liked being told what to do.

  “Yeah, me too, but I’m handling it. I’m not worried,” she said, but he was worried. Connie didn’t like having her plans upset, and this was a major game changer. Just like getting back together with him.

  “I’m here if you need me, Connie,” he said, hoping she could put aside their past and her fears about him to believe that.

  An uncertain smile passed across her face before she hesitantly said, “I know. Are you going down to Sea Kiss this weekend?”

  “I’d been kind of hoping we could go down the shore this weekend,” he said, but at her grimace, he realized that wasn’t going to happen.

  “I’m sorry. I have to work this weekend.”

  He hesitated, curbing his own disappointment to be supportive. “I get it. I’ve had my share of weekends at work. Maybe I can swing by your place on my way back to the city on Sunday night.”

  The smile that came to her face reached up into her eyes and brightened her features. “I’d like that. I’ll call and let you know what time I’ll be home. We can have dinner at my place.”

  “I’ll see you Sunday,” he said and grinned, pleased with the outcome, even though he’d miss her this weekend. Especially as he did the house hunting. He’d really been hoping she could help, in large part because in the back of his brain, he’d started picturing the two of them living together in whatever house they chose. A pipe dream possibly, but he’d had many similar dreams turn into reality. Why not this one?

  * * *

  Connie dragged herself through the door, her clothes filthy with dust and her body aching from the latest project Goodwyn had assigned her: a review of the files in their basement storage area. Under the firm’s retention policy, they only held on to materials for five years, and every five years, someone had to undertake that odious task. Usually, the work would be assigned to a new associate who would also be given a list of the files with instructions on which ones should be reviewed prior to destruction.

  Hating the thought of it dragging into another weekend, she’d worked like a demon to go through what seemed like an inordinately large amount of files, even lifting boxes herself when the file clerks assigned to help her hadn’t been fast enough. Hence the dust and assorted muscle aches. But she’d finished, and while she didn’t have time to prepare dinner, she knew just where to order from while she took a quick shower and prepped for Jonathan’s visit in less than forty-five minutes.

  She scrubbed, dressed, and even preened a little, wanting to look her best for him when he arrived, uncertain of what the plan would be for after dinner. Would he stay the night or head back to his place in Manhattan? More importantly, did she want him to stay the night, or did she need a little space because the relationship was moving too fast too soon? After all, he’d had her help him look for his new home. That wasn’t the kind of thing people did after only two dates. If you could even call their wedding-night hookup a date.

  The ding of the intercom warned that either food or Jonathan had arrived. Luckily, it was the food, which gave her time to put it into serving dishes and into the oven to keep warm while she set the table. She opened a bottle of red wine to let it breathe, and the intercom dinged again just as she finished laying out the plates and wineglasses.

  Her palms sweaty and her heart picking up its pace, she advised the security guard to let Jonathan up and waited by the door, trying to disguise her pleasure at his arrival. At his knock, she opened the door with measured restraint, swept a kiss across his cheek, and said, “Hey.”

  He eyed her funny and said, “Hey yourself, Reyes. I brought some pastries from Del Ponte’s.” It was her favorite bakery in Sea Kiss and had some of the best cannolis and cream puffs she’d ever had.

/>   She accepted the box he thrust at her. “Thank you. Would you like some wine?”

  “I’d like something else first,” he said, took hold of her hand, and drew her near. At her questioning glance, he said, “A real kiss and not one like my grandma would give me.”

  With a shake of her head, she lifted on tiptoes and brushed another kiss across his lips, but as she would have drawn away, he cradled her head and prolonged the kiss. Over and over, he coaxed her mouth with his, urging her closer until the press of the box against her midsection dragged up the restraint she’d lost.

  “Dinner is ready,” she said in a shaky voice and stepped back, her insides trembling. She laid a hand on her midsection and motioned in the direction of the far side of the room and the dining table. The building was barely a year old, and the condos boasted an open concept design with the kitchen, living, and dining areas run together. The far wall of that space was all windows that faced east and provided a spill of sunlight all morning as well as gorgeous views of Manhattan.

  “Nice digs, Reyes,” he said, glancing around her home. He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets, as if to keep from reaching for her again, and followed her across the room to the table. He waited there as she tucked the bakery box into the fridge and then went to the oven.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered in. I didn’t have time to cook,” she said.

  “No problema,” he said and poured the wine. He waited patiently at the table while she spooned food onto the plates and brought them over. She returned to the island to grab a bowl and basket and placed an avocado salad and bread on the table.

  She motioned to the chair at the head of the table and took a spot adjacent to it. With a shaky hand, she reached for her wine, needing a little Dutch courage. She held up the glass for a toast but couldn’t think of a thing to say. Luckily, he rescued the moment by tapping his glass to hers and offering up, “To a lovely dinner. Thank you.”

  She repeated the toast and took a big sip, hoping to quell the anxious flutters she always had around him. Silly, considering all that had happened between them. She wasn’t a shy schoolgirl, even though he made her feel like that at times. That he seemed to recognize that only made things harder, not easier.

  “Relax, Reyes. Just go with the flow and enjoy this incredibly tasty Cuban food and wonderful company.”

  She couldn’t hold back her chuckle and decided to join in with the lighter mood. “We just call it food,” she teased.

  He narrowed his gaze. “Huh? Food?”

  “Yeah, Cubans. We just call Cuban food ‘food.’ Get it?” she kidded.

  With a laugh, he nodded and said, “Get it. No Chinese food in China either. Just food.” He dug into his rice and beans, murmuring an appreciative “Good” after he swallowed.

  She followed suit, and it was as good as he said. The rice was perfectly fluffy and a great combo with the earthiness of the beans. The roast pork, while not as good as her mother’s Christmas Eve roast, was deliciously flavored with garlic, cumin, and assorted citrus juices. There was silence as they ate, probably since the moment she tasted the food, hunger had kicked in. It was only as they both finished their first helping and Jonathan served up the avocado salad that she started a conversation again.

  “How did the house hunting go?” she asked and dug into the creamy, buttery avocado.

  A half-hearted shrug anticipated his answer. “Not so good. There wasn’t really anything I liked. The good news is that we got a reasonable counteroffer on the guitar building. My partners and I are discussing it before I head out of town next week.”

  The proverbial rolling stone, she thought as she asked, “Anywhere interesting?”

  “Rochester. There’s a new company there that’s got some radical cameras we’re considering to improve our self-driving and collision-avoidance capabilities.” A prolonged pause was followed by, “Want to come with?”

  A rolling stone who maybe gathered some Connie moss, she thought with pleasure and disappointment. “I’d like to, but my schedule is packed, and Maggie is reopening the Savannah Courtyard restaurant in her family’s store this coming week. Didn’t you get the invite?”

  “Yeah, I did, but I’d already set up this meeting and couldn’t reschedule. I really wanted to attend. I remember going there as a kid with my mom and Owen,” he said, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

  She laid her hand over his. “Maybe the two of us can go when you get back. Or we can wait a few weeks for the Winter Wonderland to open up in early November.”

  He grinned, and his sky-blue eyes glittered with pleasure. “That would be epic.”

  As the awkwardness faded, she got up to clear the dishes and bring out dessert, but as she laid a plate before him, he said, “How about we eat this over on your couch? Sit and enjoy the view while we’re at it.”

  She always loved seeing dusk fall over the city and the awakening of the lights in the buildings, like fireflies on a summer night. “I’d love that. Would you like an after-dinner drink?”

  He waved her off. “I’m driving,” he said, her first hint that maybe he hadn’t planned on spending the night.

  She handed him the plates. “Go sit. I’ll get dessert.”

  He did as she asked but stopped to turn off the lights in the dining room and living room, leaving only the spill of under-cabinet illumination from the kitchen area. It put the couch in a decidedly romantic darkness, not that she would complain.

  She grabbed the box with the pastries, laid out the desserts on a plate, and walked over to sit beside him. As she did so, he laid his arm on her shoulders and tucked her tight to his side. He was silent for a long moment, and after a relaxed sigh, he said, “This is really nice.”

  It is, she thought, leaning into him and staring out the windows as the first pink, mauve, and gray streaks of color appeared in the dusky sky and the window glass of various city structures captured the waning rays of the westward sun. Little by little, the sky darkened, and thousands of tiny points of light burst into life in the buildings across the river.

  “Beautiful,” he said.

  She whispered her agreement and glanced at him from the corner of her eye to find him staring at her and not the sunset. Heat rushed to her face, and he smiled, obviously aware of the flush of color even in the dim light.

  * * *

  Jonathan raised his hand and skimmed the back of it against the smooth skin of her cheek and the stain of pink there. “You’re beautiful,” he said, leaned in, and brushed a tender kiss across her lips while tunneling his fingers into the thick wealth of her hair.

  She shook her head at the compliment but welcomed his kiss, opening her mouth, kissing him over and over until they were both breathless and straining toward each other, but she suddenly pulled away.

  “Where are we going with this?” she asked, perusing his face intently. She raked a longish strand of his hair away from his face as if to make sure she wouldn’t miss a thing about his response.

  It was a question he’d asked himself often in the last few weeks, and while he knew what his answer would be, he wasn’t quite so sure about hers. At least not right at this moment, so he delayed and said, “I’ve always admired how driven you are. How headstrong.”

  She squinted, trying to read him. “Headstrong’s another way of saying stubborn, isn’t it?”

  He chuckled. “Maybe, but not in a bad way. But as determined as you are, sometimes you have to stop and appreciate all that you’ve accomplished to not lose sight of what’s really important.”

  “I know what’s important,” she said, grew tense, and shifted away from him on the couch.

  He cradled her cheek, hoping to ease her upset. “You’ve been pushing ahead as long as I’ve known you. Best in your high school class. Scholarships to college and law school, not to mention law review.”

  The blush came again, and
she whispered, “I didn’t think you had kept track.”

  He had, but not in a stalker kind of way. Despite their breakup, he’d stayed in touch with Emma, because she had settled in Sea Kiss after finishing college. Every now and then, he’d asked about Connie, wondering how she was. Wondering if she’d found someone else.

  “We’re not that different, really. If I want something, I go for it, but I take the time to appreciate what I’ve done along the way. Just like you should celebrate all your accomplishments,” he said.

  She huffed out a harsh laugh and shook her head. “And what good does that do now? I’m watching my dream job turn into a nightmare.”

  “Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. You can keep on pounding away at it like a ram in heat, but that will only give you a massive headache,” he teased and ran his fingers across the worry lines on her forehead.

  A brittle laugh escaped her, and she wagged her head. “I’m not like you that way. I can’t be organic or footloose or go with the flow.”

  Because he knew better than to keep on pounding his head against that wall she’d erected, he said, “Just know that no matter what, I’ll be here for you.”

  She met his gaze, hers questioning, but then she relaxed and tucked herself into his side again. She asked, “So what do we do now?”

  He kissed her temple and said, “We sit and enjoy this beautiful night.”

  Chapter 20

  When she was little, Connie had gone to Maxwell’s, Maggie’s family’s store on Fifth Avenue, every Christmas with her mother to visit Santa. Maxwell’s had always had fabulous window displays, and the Winter Wonderland had been the height of her holiday season, because she knew how hard her mother had worked to be able to afford a small toy and high tea at the restaurant in the store. She’d been sad when the Savannah Courtyard had closed and when, years later, the store had stopped doing the Winter Wonderland.