What Happens in Summer

by Caridad Piñeiro

  He’d already asked her to marry him, even before finding out he was going to be a father. But his hesitation about buying a house still caused her concern. She knew he had issues and so did she, but she was working through hers. She wondered if he was working through his. Even if he was, it might take time. But with a baby on the way, she didn’t know how much longer she could hold off on making a decision on what to do.

  Those thoughts were still nagging her as she and her friends finished up dinner at the Sinclair beach house and Maggie excused herself to go for a walk on the beach. Connie rose to go with her, worried about leaving her friend alone, when Emma placed a hand on her arm and shut her down with a look. Not wanting to cause a scene in front of Maggie, she sat back down but glared at Emma. As soon as Maggie was out the door, she turned to her friend, but Tracy piped in with, “Em’s right, you know. Maggie needs the time alone to decide what to do. Too many of us being mother hens isn’t going to help.”

  “But Jonathan and Owen are next door,” she said. When she and Maggie had arrived earlier in the day, Jonathan’s Willys Jeep and Owen’s Lightning had been sitting in the driveway of the Pierce mansion. She’d peeked over the edge of the balcony before coming down for dinner, and the cars had still been there. Obviously, the men, just like she and her friends, were intending to stay for the weekend.

  “Which could be good and not just for Maggie,” Emma said and looked at Connie pointedly.

  “I agree. You never were one to back down from a challenge, but with Jon…” Tracy left it hanging there, obviously wanting her to explain.

  “It’s complicated. Way more complicated than either of you can imagine.”

  Emma and Tracy shared a look that Connie didn’t quite like. A second later, Emma laid a hand over hers as Connie nervously plucked at a napkin lying on the table. “You know you can tell us anything, right? We won’t judge.”

  Tracy reached out from Connie’s other side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We won’t, and we’ll be here for whatever you need, just like you’ve always been there for us.”

  The burn of tears rose up and then the wetness as one escaped and trailed down her cheek. “I’m fine. I just need to work some things out,” she said, her voice tight with emotion.

  “Just know we’re here,” Tracy repeated while Emma nodded sympathetically.

  As much as she wanted to tell her friends about the baby and everything else, she just couldn’t. “I know,” she said and was about to continue when a shout from outside had them glancing out the french doors. Mrs. Patrick must have also heard the noise, since she came out of her room to see what was happening.

  Maggie and Owen were standing on the great lawn, facing each other, the tension in their bodies apparent. Maggie held something in her hand, and Connie immediately knew what it was. “He gave her the divorce papers. Shit, he must have signed them.”

  “Shit,” Emma said. A second later, they were all racing out the door. A crashing sound came from the hedges separating the two homes as Jonathan burst through them. Apparently, he had also realized something was going on, but as they all watched, Maggie tore the papers in half and handed the pieces back to Owen. A second later, they were in each other’s arms, laughing and kissing.

  “I guess they made up,” Tracy said, arching a manicured brow in surprise.

  “Thank God,” Connie and Emma said at the same time.

  As Maggie and Owen turned and realized they had an audience, Jonathan walked over to join them, a smile on his face until he saw her. Then his look grew a little more somber, and he dipped his head in greeting. “Connie,” he said, before greeting her friends and Mrs. Patrick, who he gave a huge bear hug that had her giggling like a schoolgirl. Tears came to Connie’s eyes again for her friend, who looked so happy walking toward them with Owen, and for her own misery at being away from Jonathan. She had even experienced a moment of jealousy as he’d hugged the seventysomething Mrs. Patrick, which she excused as a by-product of runaway pregnancy hormone mood swings.

  As Maggie and Owen stood before them, they shared a loving look.

  Owen grinned, faced Emma, and said, “Do you think you could plan a small, intimate wedding for immediate family for next weekend?”

  Emma shook her head, obviously thinking that Owen was maybe deranged. “I’m not sure. Do you plan on making it stick this time?”

  Connie didn’t think it possible, but Owen’s smile grew even broader as he said, “Forever this time, Emma. No doubt about it.”

  * * *

  Jonathan couldn’t sleep. He was still out of kilter from the rushed trip to California and back and the emotional upheaval it had caused, not to mention the earlier emotion of that night. His heart was filled with joy that his brother and Maggie had settled their differences and intended to make their marriage work. With their recommitment ceremony planned for the following weekend, he wouldn’t have to wait long to tell his brother about his trip to see their mom and the brother neither of them had known about.

  But with as much as he’d done, there was so much more he still had to do before pressing his case with Connie again. And there was still his father to deal with.

  He grabbed a sweatshirt from the overnight bag he’d brought over from the inn where he had been staying. His brother had insisted Jonathan stay for the weekend, their father’s wishes be damned. Jonathan tugged the sweatshirt on against the chill of a late October night. Dudley roused from beside him and followed him through the silent house. Owen had gone to spend the night with Maggie at her beach home.

  As soon as he opened the french doors to the patio, Dudley raced out and down to the water, mindless of the night and the slight cold. His pup loved the water so much that he suspected Dudley had been a surfer in another life. He’d have to get him a life vest and take him out on the waves one day.

  Dudley was in the wash, jumping and barking, inviting Jonathan to get out of his mood. But as Jonathan sauntered across the boardwalk and down to the sand, Dudley took off in the direction of the Sinclair mansion, chasing a flock of seagulls in the ocean’s wash. He looked and noticed the lone figure wrapped in a plaid blanket, sitting on the steps of the boardwalk.

  Connie, he thought but didn’t turn away, especially as she peered in his direction and offered a tentative smile. He stuffed his hands into his sweatpants pockets to keep from reaching for her and walked over.

  She scooted to one side of the step and said, “It’s too cold on the sand.”

  He sat opposite her on the step below. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he teased, trying to keep the mood light.

  “Yeah, it’s already getting a little too cold for midnight strolls,” she said with a chuckle, then rubbed her arms with her hands beneath the protection of the blanket.

  “For sure,” he said. After a long pause, he plunged on. “How are you doing?”

  She worried her lower lip but finally said, “Fine. How about you? How was your trip?”

  It was hard to keep the truth from her, but he knew that if he asked, she would keep it to herself. “I went to Coronado to see our mother, but Owen doesn’t know about the trip, and I want to keep it that way. There’s a lot to tell, and now isn’t the right time.”

  “Is there ever a right time with something that important?” she said, worry lines erupting on her forehead, as if she was talking about more than his trip.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know if there is. But I don’t want to dump anything else on Owen until I can talk to our father. He’s kept a lot from us, and I want to know why.”

  Connie scrutinized his features and asked, “Like what?”

  “Like the reason our mother left and a brother we didn’t even know we had.”

  Shock rippled across her features, followed by concern. She slipped her hand from beneath the warmth of the blanket and cupped his cheek. “You have another brother?”


  He nodded and fought the emotions roiling inside him as he explained. “Thomas…his name is Thomas. He’s nineteen, but he has special needs, both mentally and physically.”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t know about him, Jon. It’s not right that your parents kept him from you and Owen.”

  “Yeah, it sucks. He looks like Owen and me. He’s a mix of the two of us. When I talked to him, I think he realized we were related and was happy about it,” he said, recalling Thomas’s response to his presence.

  “Is he with your mom?” she asked and brushed back a lock of his long hair as a land breeze blew it across his face. Even when the breeze died down, she repeated the action, smoothing his hair in a gesture that was both familiar and comforting.

  He shook his head. “He’s in a home for people requiring extensive care. Genevieve, my mother, tells me my father has never shirked paying for anything Thomas needs.”

  “So he has a heart, even though it may be way too small,” she said, dragging a chuckle from him.

  “Way too small is an understatement,” he said and went on to tell her about the reasons why his mom left, how his father had forced her to choose between her sons, and he could see Connie growing upset on his behalf.

  Luckily, Dudley chose that moment to rush up from the surf to chase the seagulls, half-wet but clearly delighted to see Connie. The terrier jumped up onto her lap, and she wrapped him up with the loose ends of the blanket, earning some doggie kisses as a thank-you.

  She laughed at the dog’s antics, and Jonathan rubbed Dudley’s head and instructed him to sit. Which he did, right in Connie’s lap.

  “Silly dog,” she said, but her words were tinged with laughter and love.

  Smart dog, he thought.

  “What are you going to do about your mother and father?” she asked, growing serious again. She hugged Dudley tight as the puppy nestled happily against her.

  That million-dollar question had been on his brain ever since he’d boarded the plane home. With a shrug, he said, “I plan on seeing my mother and brother again, regularly if I can. As for my father, he needs to make things right with Owen. Owen is the one who has always been there, no matter what my father said or did, and it almost cost him the love of his life.”

  A sad look passed over her features, and she cradled his jaw and ran her thumb along his cheek. “Your father needs to make things right with you too, Jon.”

  He nodded and grasped the hand at his cheek. Held it tightly in his as he said, “One step at a time, Connie. Some things just can’t be rushed.”

  As his gaze met hers, it was obvious she understood what he meant. But then she surprised him by leaning over and kissing him. A kiss full of sweetness and caring.

  He answered with tenderness and patience, the moment too fragile to rush toward passion. As she broke away from the kiss, her ragged whisper breathed hope into him.

  “This is a nice next step,” she said. Urging Dudley down from her lap, she slowly rose. The pup whined in protest, and she gave him a final pat on the head to comfort him.

  “I’ll walk you back,” he said, not that he needed to. He couldn’t remember the last time there had been any significant crime in Sea Kiss.

  “That would be nice,” she said, and together, they walked across the short boardwalk, over the dunes, and onto the great lawn. Up through grass wet with the remnants of an earlier rain, Dudley patiently following in their footsteps.

  At the french doors leading to the kitchen, she stopped and faced him. “Good night, Jon.”

  “G’night, Connie. Thanks for listening, and a big thanks for what you did with the town council. I haven’t had a chance to say it, what with everything with my mom and Owen and stuff, but I really appreciate it. My guys are all really excited about working on that facility and all they can do for the area.”

  She nodded and wrapped the blanket around herself tighter, as if she needed it to hold herself together. “What are friends for, Jon? Besides, Sea Kiss could use some new blood.”

  He eyed her, aware of what she wasn’t saying. “Would that possibly include someone new as the township attorney? I hear that they’re looking for one.”

  With the kind of smile a mother might use on a child wheedling for another hour of playtime, she said, “G’night, Jon. It’s late, and I’m really tired.”

  She didn’t wait for his reply before rushing into the house, but he again took hope at the fact that she hadn’t denied it outright. He just prayed that all the hope that was building inside him wasn’t setting him up for a big fall.

  Chapter 28

  In her entire life, Connie had never taken a leap without looking. Apparently, there was a first time for everything, she thought as she waited in the anteroom of Goodwyn’s office, the anticipation at what she was about to do making her nerve endings tingle.

  “Mr. Goodwyn will see you now,” his assistant said, rose, and opened the door to his office.

  With a deep inhale, she stood, smoothed the skirt whose waistband was already getting a little tight, and marched into his office. As she entered, he was, as usual, shuffling some papers around on his desk, making her wait for his attention. When he looked up, peering at her from above the rim of his bifocals, he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. She demurred and remained standing, surprising him before he carefully schooled his features.

  She had been clutching a manila folder to her chest but relaxed her grip and passed it to the older man. He placed it on his desktop, and as he opened it, she began her carefully prepared speech. “I want you to know that I appreciate all that I’ve learned here at Brewster, Goodwyn, and Smith, as well as the opportunity to work with such a skilled and professional staff.”

  By then, Goodwyn had opened the folder and read the first piece of paper: her resignation letter. As he did so, his color grew more and more florid until she worried he might have a stroke. Despite that, he said nothing, just eyed her the way someone might glare at dirt on the bottom of their shoe. It didn’t dissuade her from continuing.

  “I’ve given you a month’s notice to allow for bringing my colleagues up-to-date on any pending matters.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said brusquely, which was what she’d imagined he might say. It was why she had been taking home her personal belongings in dribs and drabs over the last few days.

  “Beneath my resignation is a form letter for the firm to review and, if acceptable, send to those clients with whom I’ve worked on various matters.”

  He shot to his feet, but with her heels, they were nearly eye to eye. If he had thought it would physically intimidate her, he was dead wrong.

  “As you know, both myself and the firm have an obligation to inform the clients of the change in representation, advise as to who will be taking over the cases, as well as to advise the client that they have the option to remain with the firm or choose to be represented by me or some other attorney or firm.”

  Goodwyn almost sneered as he said, “You actually think any of those clients will want to leave this firm?”

  She arched a brow, splayed her hands on his desk, and leaned toward him, wondering why she’d ever let him intimidate her in the first place. “You mean like the ones you thought were too small to merit your attention? I’ll be in my office if you or any of the other partners wish to discuss my resignation or the letter to the clients.”

  She pivoted on one heel and left him sputtering, “You can’t do this.”

  I can and I just did, she thought, her smile as wide as the Cheshire cat’s. Heads popped up over the tops of the cubicles, like prairie dogs disturbed from their burrows, as Goodwyn’s continued threats grew louder. She ignored them and glanced at her watch, calculating that she had maybe twenty minutes tops before they’d make their move.

  At her desk, she sat and sipped the last of her decaf coffee. She didn’t know how she’d surv
ive another seven or so months without the real thing. The doctor had put her at about eight weeks pregnant. That meant that by next Memorial Day, give or take, she’d be a mom.

  It took all of ten minutes for one of the other partners, the main man for the litigation area, to come to her office, a security guard in tow. He knocked on the jamb of her door, and she motioned for him to enter. After he did, he closed the door behind him and took one of the seats before her desk. He leaned back in the chair, crossed one leg over the other, and examined her intently.

  “I’m truly sorry it’s come to this, Connie. We all thought you were going to be a valuable part of this firm for the future,” he said, surprising her.

  “To tell the truth, Bill, that hasn’t been apparent at all in the last few months. On the contrary, not one of you did anything while Goodwyn made my life miserable,” she said, her tone calm and dispassionate.

  “We all know he’s a difficult man, but we can make things right by you,” he said.

  “With a partnership?” she said, wondering just how far the others would go.

  Bill did a little maybe shrug. “It’s certainly something we can discuss in the future.”

  She was surprised at what he’d said so far, since litigators tended to be more circumspect with their language, especially in a situation like this one. But his noncommittal shrug and promise of the future were too little too late at this point.

  “It’s nice to know that a partnership might have been possible, but I’ve made up my mind about leaving,” she said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Connie. We’ll be sending you a check for the month’s time you offered in your resignation letter, but we’d prefer it if you left today,” he said. After he stood, opened the door, and motioned to the guard standing just outside to come in, he said, “If you don’t mind my asking, where are you going?”