That Summer
A South Shore Novel
Copyright ©2015 by Michelle Flick
Cover Design by Sprinkles on Top
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ISBN-13: 978-1505893618
ISBN-10: 1505893615
Dedicated
To Ellsworth
Chapter 1
RC
I stood outside my grandparents’ property, well, my property now according to my Grams’ will. She had left it to me. This hadn’t come as a shock, because after my grandfather died, she had moved in with my family in Brookhaven. The house had been too much for her to handle, and while her wit was still as sharp as a tack up until the day she died, a stroke a few years after I left South Shore had left her incapable of doing anything but dusting and vacuuming. A beach home with hurricanes was simply too much.
My grandfather had kept up the place until he had a heart attack. I often wonder if the stress of the house and my Grams’ stroke had really pushed my eighty-year-old grandpa too far. He took care of his sweetheart and nothing would have stopped him in the hour she needed him most.
But they had a good life and Grams had continued to smile a lot when she was living with my dad and his wife. She had no problem telling me that apps (which is how I make my livelihood) were a waste of time. Not to mention my pretty face was only going to hold out for so long--I had gotten my father’s genes after all--and that Tom, my ex-husband, was a grade A-loser. She often wondered out loud why I had ever let Jack Monroe go, well she would never know. She was wrong on apps, I am only twenty-seven years old, and I still have my looks. She was absolutely, one hundred percent correct about my ex, Tom, though asshole might be more fitting, and Jack Monroe, well I don’t know how I had lost him either, but I did.
But I was back in South Shore now, and Jack was around here somewhere, I was sure of it. He was unwilling to leave when he was twenty-one and I doubt in eight years he had left. I would find him eventually.
The house itself held a lot of great memories for me from that summer. It was the summer I had actually gotten to know my grandparents as more than just grandparents. I learned my grandpa was a hopeless romantic who picked flowers for my Grams whenever he saw them. My grandma would never let me win at Rummy unless I had legitimately beaten her. My grandpa was in charge of groceries and my grandma loved nothing more than cooking. She cooked full meals three times a day and sent meals to whoever was in need of them. My grandpa had a ‘67 Impala that he tinkered with every day. They were wonderful people, and I should have come back to see them after I had left. But I was so sure I had more time with them.
My Italian mastiff sits in the front seat of my jeep looking at the house with me. Mia has been my companion for the last five years, a gift from Tom on our first anniversary, probably the only I thing I kept that had memories of him still attached.
“What do you think? Go check it out?” Her ears perk up.
I get out of my jeep and she follows me out.
I stare at the tan house that was my home for a brief moment in time and truthfully, it was the best “moment” of my life. The windows are boarded up and the wrap-around porch has a dusting of sand on it from the lack of use. There is a small patch of grass where Gram had her flowerbeds. The rest of their lot, my lot, is sandy, private beach.
It is beautiful; it is breath taking, and now it is all mine.
Bittersweet.
I walk up to the house, the keys jingling in my hand. I had known I was getting it, was reminded when the will was read, but now I am here, going to live in this awesome house, a house reminding me of them, their love, and the shoes I am to fill.
A truck beeps as it pulls up next to mine. A tall guy gets out and he shields his eyes to get a look at me.
“Excuse me? This place isn’t for sale,” he calls out.
“Oh!” of course someone would think that. “No,” I yell back. “I own the place. I’m Heather and Matt Crawford’s granddaughter.”
I can see him processing, and while he does this I try and place his face. I know him. I know I do. He’s around my age, so I must have met him that summer.
“Remy?”
Bingo.
“Yeah,” I say and step down the steps toward him. Mia lumbers up to him, and like everyone else, is slightly intimidated by her one hundred and ten pound size. She quickly rubs her nose in his hand and puts him at ease. She’s big and slobbers. He wipes his hand off on his pants. It’s her MO.
When I get to him he is playfully scratching her ears.
“Steve Carter?”
“Yeah, you remember me.”
“Yeah, I do,” I respond. What I don’t tell him is I thought he was a total douche who was arrogant as all get up. But I probably shouldn’t insult people yet. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Oh, I work for my dad now. He owns a landscaping company and we take care of rentals and houses for people who go away.” He pauses. “I’m sorry about your grandma.”
“Thanks.”
“Mrs. Crawford sure knew how to harass people.”
“Oh, did she.” I smile at him.
And then it happens, the Carter that I remember. He sees my smile and reads too much into it. His stance becomes wide and swishes a little from side to side. His smile becomes lazy and I’m sure had I not been here eight years ago and remembered him, I may have found him attractive. Wait, he is attractive; I might have been willing to act on this flirtation, but I remember.
“Gah! Is that guy always such a douche?” I asked Jack.
My noncommittal friend gave me a slight smile. I inferred it meant yes.
Steve, from last night was causing a scene with the people around him. Now, I was someone who enjoyed being center of attention, but how this dude was making a fool of himself made me question my enjoyment. I hoped I don’t look like that.
He was talking over people to keep attention on him. He was dramatically diving for the football when it was thrown. But it was working; a few girls from last night and some I hadn’t seen before were laughing at his antics, waiting on bated breath for his next move.
Jack continued to watch the ocean.
I continued to watch the scene to our right. Steve had positioned himself between two girls, arms around both, and he was openly flirting with both.
“I think he’s literally trying to get both, but will settle for either.”
Jack turned and looked again.
“Not surprised.”
“So you know him?”
“Went to high school together. Big jock type. Show boater. As you can see, that hasn’t changed. Kind of a dog, I hear.”
“You hear?”
“I don’t want to talk about him. I don’t know if he really is or not.”
He didn’t like to talk about people even when the people were obnoxious. This guy had got more character than most people I’d met put together.
“So Jack Monroe, tell me something.”
“I can’t figure out why you always say my first and last name,”
“Not really what I was looking for, but you already know that. But I like the ring to it, so I say it.”
“Monroe, come play.”
We both looked and it was that Steve kid.
“We need another guy to play to make it even.”
“Do you play football?” I asked.
He stood up and dusted off the sand. I watched him go over and for a second I considered staying put, but why should I stay away? I catch up to him and bumped his shoulder.
“Have fun,” I said.
He gave me a wink and went to the other two guys on his team. Luckily, Steve and he weren’t on the same team. I hoped he was perfectly athletic and laid out this guy.
Football ensued. I didn’t pretend to understand what was going on, but I cheered when Jack caught the ball.
“Go Jack!” I cheered.
“Come on Sweetheart, you’re cheering for the wrong guy,” I heard Steve say.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “No,” I responded, “I’ve got it right.”
“But you’re breaking my heart!” he called out and made a dramatic dive in the water. I wasn’t impressed.
I watched. I laughed when Jack tackled Steve into the water. I caught a glimpse of a mischievous smile on his face. They played for a little while, but as Steve’s team began to lose, his showboating tactics disappeared. He started to take each play more seriously.
“Nice job out there, Sweetheart,” I said to Jack jokingly.
He laughed, briefly and I loved the timbre of it. It was deep and I heard it rumble in his chest. I wanted to hear it when he really and truly laughed.
“Thanks, Sweetheart,” he returned. “How about some ice cream?”
I didn’t want our date to end either.
Steve hasn’t changed and I wonder if Jack’s blue eyes had. I wonder if his hair is still long. I wonder if his smile would still send tremors through my heart.
“So, you goin’ to stay?” Steve asks, jolting me out of my revelry.
“That’s the plan. It’s a pretty awesome house.”
“It is. Want some help with the windows?”
I’m momentarily caught off guard. I mean, he hasn’t been a jerk at all, but it’s going to be a big project and to be honest the help would be greatly appreciated.
“Uh, yeah. That would be great.”
“It’s part of the service. I’m not that nice of a guy,” he says the last part in a fake whisper and I laugh a little.
We turn and take the wooden boards off the windows before I even unlock the place. He doesn’t stick around, and besides a lame, “I hope to see you around,” he doesn’t show the douche bag side too much.
So I’m back on the porch, staring and wondering what I’m doing here. Wondering if I can actually make it my own and not me living in their house. The idea of wiping them out of this house is painful to think of, but if I don’t it would remain a testament to who they were, a shrine of a life people simply do not have anymore. I need to find a balance and I just don’t know if I can do that.
I unlock the door in a moment of strength.
Even beneath the dust and stuffy smell, the house is exactly as it was eight years ago. The same furniture is in the same places. The same wall fixtures are up. I’m sure the cabinets and closets are full of the same things. I half expect to see Gram and Gramps come into the living room, yelling at me because they weren’t air conditioning the outside. I remember the first time I walked through that door that summer.
“It’s your home as long as you want it to be. We’re happy to have you,” my grandpa said as he pushed open the door hauling two of my three bags. It didn’t even seem to faze him for a seventy something year old man.
My grandparents were great people and I had been here twice before, but it was mostly at dad’s house that I saw them when they came to visit for holidays. Dad was always too busy at work, and well then there was his secretary that was now my stepmom that preoccupied him. Maybe my mom would have brought me here had she been less preoccupied with her husband’s infidelities and retreated within herself.
I took a step into the house and it was light. I mean everything was a light, soft color, light poured in from every window and there were tons of windows.
“Well, come on in. We aren’t trying to cool down all of South Shore.”
I laughed and closed the door behind me. I followed him further into this ocean access paradise that would be home until well, whenever my dad wanted me back or college started. I wasn’t sure which one I wanted to happen.
I get to the living room, which opened up into the kitchen and dining area in one big room with one really big view of the Atlantic Ocean.
My Grams was there, in the kitchen, trying to jam something into the oven.
“Heather, Jesus let me help you.” My grandpa rushed over to help her.
“Remy!” She turns around after slamming the door shut. “Come here my baby!”
I was my grandparents’ only grandchild, so in my Grams’ eyes that made me her baby, eternally.
“I was trying to finish up the ham before you got here.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Grams.”
She hugged me and scoffed. “Yes, I did. You need a good home cooked meal, lots of them, and I can do that for you.”
“I didn’t want to be a burden on you.”
She let me go and clasped my face in her hands. “You are not a burden.”
I hear it in her words; she’s trying to tell me I’m worth it even though both of my parents didn’t want me.
My grandparents had taken me for the summer. My mom had long given up on paying attention to what I was up to and my dad did not have time for a daughter who frequented the back of a police car every time we got into a fight.
“I don’t know, Grams. This place is just not going to be the same without the two of you.”
Mia lays down at my feet, panting.
“Air conditioning, Momma Mia?”
I have a feeling I’m going to be working up a sweat the next few days scrubbing down this place. Steve’s business may have taken care of the outside, but it is clear they had not taken care of the inside, which why would they, really.
I search the inside of the house, becoming familiar with the place again. It really is a step back in time for me. The shock of my grandparents’ bedroom is a cold reality though. It is exactly as I remembered it. I stood in the doorway refusing to go in there yet. It would be the last room I did anything with. Maybe not the healthiest route to go, but I’m not willing to replace it, not yet at least. I can hear my Grams telling me I was acting a fool.
I can’t find any cleaning supplies in the house, which means before I clean anything I need to buy some, which also meant having to face South Shore sooner than I had anticipated. I mean I was going to have to head into town sooner or later, I had just thought maybe a day would be good.
I jump in the jeep leaving Mia to get acquainted with the house and maybe scare out any rodents that may have taken up the house in the four years the house had been empty.
My house is three miles from town. The dirt road, familiar to me, winds along the Atlantic Ocean, filling me with a peaceful feeling, a calming one, until the three miles are up. Smack! I’m back in South Shore, a little town, busy in the summers and apparently still weathered and as charming as I remembered, with no cosmetic upkeep. Stores on Main Street are still the same: Smith’s Pharmacy, Main Street Market, Hairatage Salon, and the rest of the locally owned business. South Shore, years ago, signed a town agreement that no chains would come into the town. It’s probably why it’s a great tourist spot in the summer. It is a break from reality, except it is my reality now.
I pull into the South Shore Hardware parking lot. I send up a silent plea that I won’t run into anyone yet. I square my shoulders and walk up the steps and am relieved to find no one looking up when the door jingles, announcing my entrance.
I walk the aisles grabbing what I need or might need. By the end, I stockpile enough to start my own hardware store. Money wasn’t an issue. And if I was going to take care of what my grandparents gave me and it cost me a small fortune, well, so be it.
The girl behind the counter can’t be more than eighteen and doesn’t know me. Once the relief passes, I think about myself at nineteen here at South
Shore. I smile, despite my current nerves about this town. There is a reason I am back, several and honestly, all of them are great memories. All but one. The one is what gave me the nerves.
I cash out and take my cleaning army and every contraption a home may need to my jeep.
I get behind the wheel and realize I am okay. I am always okay here. In fact, after I block out my dysfunctional and self-centered parents, I was great here. I could be great here, and for the first time in years, I feel like I am in the right place, like I have returned home.
I drive through the town on my way back home and see a familiar side street, one that would lead me to another familiar place. On an impulse of renewed strength, I take the turn and find the bar I had worked at. Joe’s. I hope Joe is still here. The fact the name of the place is still his is heartening.
I kill the ignition and climb out. The porch is rickety like always. The place has been painted since I left, but is showing signs of distress already, probably due to the hurricanes and blistering hot sun. I push into the door and let my eyes adjust to the place.
The inside still has mismatched chairs and tables, a jukebox in the corner that playing the Beatles, and a mirror lined the wall that was behind the bar.
“We aren’t open yet,” a gruff voice says from the corner of the bar.
“Wasn’t looking for a drink unless you were going to have one with me,” I reply easily.
Joe looks up at me.
“I had heard a rumour that a pretty blonde had inherited a place in town.” Like everything in this town, Joe was the same, only a little bit weathered. He was still in shape, just a little grey at the temples, and maybe not as solid in the mid-section as he once was.
“And I was wondering if you were lookin’ for a bartender with some experience.”
He stands up and walks up to me, a familiar, friendly smile on his face. “Well, Girl, it just so happens, I am. Just fired a mouthy little twit. You planning on stayin’?”
“Yeah, I think I am. I’ve got nowhere else to be. Can’t handle the mouthy ones anymore?”
That Summer Page 1