The Shore House: An emotional and uplifting page turner (Dewberry Beach Book 1)

by Heidi Hostetter

  “Who’s your editor?”

  “Emmerson.”

  “Paul Emmerson? He must know.”

  “He knows a bit. I insisted on your help polishing the draft before I showed it to him, and he very reluctantly allowed it. To be fair, I’m not sure he would have had he known how far behind I really am.”

  “Polishing?” Stacy was trying to make sense of what he’d said. A conversation with Billy was always exhausting, a mental jigsaw puzzle you had to keep working until the pieces fitted together and the picture was recognizable. “So you do have a draft? You just told me it’s not written.”

  “All these questions are making my head ache.” Billy sighed, his body slouching dramatically. “I’ve told you everything.”

  They began walking again, Stacy processing the fragments of what she’d heard, and Billy loudly sipping her coffee.

  “How did you find me down here?” she asked finally.

  “Oh, please.” Billy scoffed. “That part was easy.” He reached into her bag and helped himself to a section from her croissant. “So, will you do it?”

  “Do what?” Stacy snatched the bag back.

  “Help me with the second book.”

  “But it’s not written.”

  “Not yet, but it will be. And it will be magnificent.” He brightened. “We work well together, you and I.”

  That part was true: they did produce an amazing novel.

  A Winter to Remember would forever be her favorite book, and she’d always be proud of her part in bringing it to life. But the work behind the scenes was brutal, much of it falling on Stacy alone. Many times during the process Billy would declare his story “wasn’t working” and would flounce off without warning. Sometimes he’d be gone for days at a time, unreachable by email or telephone. Because she was new at her job and didn’t know any better, she’d cover for him in staff meetings. She’d lie to her coworkers about the book’s progress, approve cover art and back copy without having an actual story to sell.

  The stress had been overwhelming.

  Billy never appreciated her efforts or even seemed to care that she’d put her job on the line for him. She couldn’t do that again no matter how talented he was or how eagerly the world awaited his new book. She had other priorities now; a family to consider.

  Stacy stopped in her tracks and gaped at him. “We don’t though,” she said. “We don’t work well together at all. In fact, you’re a nightmare. It’s all coming back to me now: you’re awful, Billy.”

  “I absolutely am not,” Billy sputtered.

  “You are,” Stacy insisted. “I couldn’t wait to start my maternity leave after working with you.”

  “Things are different now.”

  “How so?”

  “Because I need you now.”

  “I don’t think so, Billy. But I thank you for asking.” She touched her belly as the baby moved. “As you so politely pointed out earlier, I’m expecting a baby and I won’t be able to give you much time.”

  “I don’t need much time,” Billy pressed. “Just give me until the end of summer—Labor Day.”

  “That’s six weeks from now.”

  “I know. That’s all I need.” He looked at her so earnestly that she was tempted to give in.

  “I believe you’re sincere now, but what happens when things get tough? When the story ‘stops speaking to you’? Or when you insist on a weekend ‘to clear your head’?” she replied. “You don’t like deadlines, Billy. You’ve missed every one I’ve ever given—”

  “That’s not true. Not the important ones.” He slowed and raised his forefinger. “The important ones I don’t miss.”

  “You’re scattered, temperamental, demanding, and easily distracted…” Stacy was pressing the point because she wanted him to understand her answer was a very firm no.

  “How can you say that?” he gasped, pretending to be affronted.

  “Seriously, Billy?” Stacy gaped at him.

  “You don’t understand.” He paused to throw both hands in the air. “I’m a creative. You have to make allowances for my process.”

  As fun as it was to tease Billy—and it was—she had to put an end to it. Her job at Revere had been rewarding and she missed it. But as tempting as it might be to pick it up again she just couldn’t. Her life was different now. Her family was her priority: Connor, Sophie, and the new baby. It had been her decision to start a family and it was her responsibility to care of them. The life she had did not include the craziness of working with Billy Jacob.

  As painful as it might be, her decision had to be final.

  They stood at the end of the street, under a canopy of leaves. She offered him the bag she’d snatched away earlier. “A Winter to Remember is an amazing book and you should be genuinely proud of it.” She reached for his arm. “You need to remember that you’re the one who wrote it—not me. And you can do it again. I’m flattered you asked but I’m afraid the answer’s no.”

  “But I have an outline!” Billy’s expression clouded. “A detailed outline.”

  “The same outline we worked on six years ago, before I left?”

  “Yes.”

  “What have you written since then?”

  Billy looked away and Stacy’s heart sank. “You haven’t written anything, have you? Why not, Billy? It’s been six years.”

  “Technically five. No, four,” he amended as he took his hat from her and waved a cloud of gnats from his face. “I had a lot of publicity to do after the release of the first book.”

  “You still had time enough to at least start.”

  He shrugged as if he had no idea where the time went. The expression on his face reminded Stacy of Connor’s—remorseful at being called out for not doing chores. But Connor was six years old and Billy should know better. “I’ve been busy. Kyle and I bought a brownstone and fixed it up. It’s beautiful—you should see it. Lots of light, hardwood floors, original fixtures—”

  “Does Emmerson know you have little more than an outline?”

  Billy shook his head. “Not entirely, but he must suspect. I can tell he’s losing patience—his email manner has been very terse.”

  “Sorry, Billy.” Stacy continued walking. “I can’t help. There’s too much work to do.”

  Billy swept the air with both his hands. The coffee sloshed in the cup. “I know people.”

  Stacy turned, puzzled.

  “If you help me with this book, I can introduce you to people and tell them how vital you are to my work. You could go freelance after book two is published and you’d have authors lining up to work with you. Your pick of projects. Your pick of authors. All on your own time.”

  She hesitated. It was a very tempting offer. An introduction and a reference from Billy Jacob would set her up to work with any author or publishing house she wanted. And she really did miss the work.

  Just then, Stacy felt the baby kick, a reminder of what was important. She shifted her weight and pressed her palm to her belly. Her life was different now; it revolved around her growing family and wasn’t hers to direct.

  Not anymore.

  She shook her head again and watched his expression crumble. “The best I can offer is to talk to Emmerson for you, maybe smooth things out. I know him and he might understand if you’re honest with him.” She squeezed his hand. “It was nice to see you, Billy. Good luck with everything.”

  She turned and went to find her family.

  Following the curve of the footpath to the boatyard bridge, Stacy came to a clearing, a manicured patch of grass on the bank of the inlet. Years ago, someone had dragged a huge piece of driftwood from the beach and carved a bench from it. The wood had aged to a soft gray patina, and it was positioned to take in the best views of the water. Sometimes, on an early morning walk with her father, they would come across someone sitting on the bench, sipping coffee and watching the tide come in or the seagulls dive and soar overhead. Stacy paused for a moment to look across the water, the maze of floating dock
s hugging the shore of the bay. As the breeze from the bay stirred the air, the leaves rustled, and the air smelled of the sea.

  As she continued past the swath of cattails on the shore, she spotted her family on the bridge. Ryan untangled the cords of a knotted crab net while Sophie threw rocks into the water.

  “Don’t do that, Sophie,” Ryan said, his voice controlled. “The crabs don’t like it when you throw rocks. It scares them away.”

  “Like this, buddy.” A bit further down, she saw Brad pulling up a crab line the way their grandfather had taught them, hand over hand, moving so carefully that the water didn’t even ripple. “You have to go slowly or they’ll swim away.”

  “Mommy!” Connor’s eyes lit up at the sight of her. He dropped the string, abandoning the lesson, and ran to her.

  Sophie followed closely behind, a little less willing to forgive her absence. “Where have you been?” she demanded.

  “I took a nap.” Stacy cupped her daughter’s chin with her fingers. “You should try it sometime.”

  Scattered across the bridge was a collection of crab nets and new tin buckets. A dozen black flies buzzed around a trio of fish heads they’d used for bait. The Fish Shack by the inlet offered free packets of fish parts wrapped in newspaper to any kid who asked. Their grandfather had always insisted that a fish head was the best bait. He tied it to the end of a length of twine and held it near a dock piling to entice the crabs. But Stacy’s family didn’t seem to be having much luck today; a nest of twine lay tangled nearby and the biggest bucket, the one for storing the crabs before throwing them back, was empty.

  “Didn’t catch anything?” Stacy asked. She caught Ryan’s eye and offered a tentative smile. He returned it with a nod of his head, and she felt her smile widen. She’d apologize later—they both would—but for now it was enough to know that tensions had thawed.

  “Nothing.” Brad cut the fish head loose from the crab line and watched it sink into the water. “Absolutely nothing. I have a new appreciation for Gramps’s patience though.”

  “Are we done now?” Sophie asked.

  “Yes, I guess we are.” Ryan reached for the knot of twine and tossed it into a bucket.

  “Hurray!” Connor ran toward the bait wrapped in paper. Before anyone could stop him, he kicked the fish heads, wrapper and all, into the water.

  Brad picked up a stick and managed to snag the paper out of the water as Stacy moved closer to Ryan.

  “I’m sorry I was snappy with you this morning.” She stooped to help him gather the buckets. “I haven’t had much sleep. But you haven’t either.”

  “Not lately,” Ryan agreed as he kissed her forehead. “I guess we were both grumpy.”

  “You guys go on ahead,” Brad said. “Mrs. Ivey asked me to talk to one of her friends about a garden bed, and she lives down that block.” He passed the crab nets to Ryan.

  Stacy handed him one of the bags of food she’d brought and they parted ways; Ryan and Stacy walking back to the house together, both kids running ahead.

  “How’s work?” Stacy asked.

  “Not good, but I don’t want to talk about it.” Ryan sighed. “Not right now.”

  “Okay.”

  They watched Sophie and Connor chase each other down the street and across front lawns.

  “Where do they get so much energy?” Ryan marveled.

  Stacy laughed. “They can play outside after lunch. I’ll watch them and you can go take a nap.”

  “Deal,” Ryan said as he reached for her hand.

  And just like that, all was right with the world.

  Seventeen

  The hot shower helped clear Ryan’s head, but not entirely. With the exception of a few days here and there, he hadn’t felt like himself for quite some time. He swiped the corner of his towel across the foggy mirror, barely recognizing his own image. It was more than just the dark circles and ragged expression; there was a dull throbbing at the base of his neck that never quite stopped. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full night’s sleep. He’d muscled through all of it, of course, because he was supposed to. That was his job. He and Stacy had negotiated their roles a long time ago: Stacy looked after their growing family and he provided for them.

  The partnership with the venture capitalists had been difficult, to say the least. Ryan’s hope had been that the job would get easier once the company went public as planned. Todd had assured them that months leading up to the IPO were always the worst and that things would settle afterwards, and for months, Ryan had held on to that single thought like a life ring.

  But Todd had lied.

  Todd had fired Ryan’s entire team and neither he nor Sean had returned his calls to explain why.

  Ryan toweled his hair dry and tossed the wet towel into the laundry basket. Then he slipped into a clean pair of shorts and T-shirt and crossed the room to lie down on the bed. He closed his eyes, listening the homey sounds of his family downstairs, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

  His cell phone rang and he pulled it from the charger. He glanced at the screen, planning to ignore anyone except Todd.

  It was Jeff.

  Ryan sat up and unlocked the screen to answer the call. “Jeff?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  So many questions swirled in his head that Ryan didn’t know where to start. Maybe where Jeff had been for the past four months, or why he was calling now?

  “You still there?” The voice had a hint of a Midwest drawl—distinctly Jeff.

  At seventeen years old, Jeff had been offered a full scholarship at MIT and assigned as the third roommate in a room with Ryan and Sean. A skinny, naive high-school junior from a small town in Oklahoma, Jeff arrived in Boston with a change of clothes, a battered laptop, and not a single clue how to navigate the adult world. They’d taught him to use the washer and dryer in the basement, but Jeff was the one who’d rigged it to accept metal washers from Home Depot as payment for a cycle. For an entire semester the whole dorm floor had washed their clothes for free. Jeff proved to be a gifted engineer, seeing connections that no one else could. He initially loved the puzzle, but Ryan saw that Jeff’s heart wasn’t into building the solution into a business. It wasn’t unusual for Jeff to check out when tensions flared, but he’d never been gone this long before.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” Ryan answered, concern for his friend his first thought. “Where have you been? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay now. Things are good.”

  “Where’ve you been, Jeff?” Ryan asked, unable to hold back his frustration. “Do you have any idea what kind of mess the company is in? Todd fired my whole department but won’t answer my calls. I’m really close to hopping on a plane and flying out to Seattle.”

  “I’m guessing Sean hasn’t been around either?”

  “He didn’t disappear without a trace like you did, but yeah, he hasn’t,” Ryan sniped. “Left all his work to me.”

  “I’m sorry, man.”

  “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks and couldn’t find you. Why are you calling me now?”

  “Todd found me. He wanted to talk to you.”

  “Todd? Why does he want to talk to me? More importantly, why didn’t he call me himself? I’ve left a million messages he hasn’t returned.”

  “He asked me to call you. He wants to negotiate with you for your department’s immediate rehire, but he thinks that once you hear the conditions, you’ll tell him to jump in the lake.” Jeff laughed, a deep baritone that reminded Ryan of the time they’d hid under the stairs to watch a very confused crew of maintenance people retrieve and examine washers from the coin box.

  “Should I?”

  “Tell him to jump in a lake? I did.”

  Despite himself, Ryan laughed at the image of little Jeff telling off a twerp like Todd. “Is that why you took off?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry about that, man.” Jeff sobered. “The job stopped being fun a long time ago. And if it’s not fun, what’s t
he point?”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I’ve been traveling. Nothing big, just bought me a junker car, loaded it up, and started driving. ’Fore I knew it, I’m pulling up to my brother’s place in Iowa and that’s where I stayed.”

  Ryan switched his cell phone to his other ear, annoyed that Jeff and Sean could detach from responsibility so easily. “So what are the conditions Todd thinks I’ll hate?”

  “There’s a start-up out of UMD that’s gaining market share pretty quickly. Todd says he already told you that. What you don’t know is that the UMD boys have implemented most of our features faster than we could have. They’re on track to release a final build months before we do. This new release will essentially destroy the company’s valuation. Shut it down completely.” Jeff drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “The UMD team has put together a better user interface and their overall costs are lower.”

  “That means—” Ryan pressed his back against the headboard to steady himself. “Everything we’ve worked for, wiped out. Just like that.”

  “Not necessarily.” The phone muffled for a moment and Ryan heard a door close on Jeff’s end. “I’m supposed to tell you that the only way to beat the UMD guys to market is to tighten our schedule, hire contractors, and move the dates up. That’s the condition Todd has set: he’ll let you hire them all back if you agree to another three months of crunch work.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” Ryan said.

  “I don’t think you should,” Jeff said simply. “I’m not even sure why you’re still working, to be honest. Thought f’sure you’d be gone by now.”

  “It’s the team. They’re counting on me.”

  Jeff just laughed. “That’s what you’re worried about? You know your people are really good at what they do. That’s why you hired them in the first place. They’ll be fine.”

  “It’s more than just that.” Ryan perched on the edge of the bed. “They’ve worked brutal hours for the payoff when the IPO hits in the spring. Only I’m starting to think there won’t ever be a payoff, even if we meet this new schedule. I don’t trust Todd to tell us the truth about anything.” Ryan closed his eyes. “I just wish I knew for sure. I just wish we had all the facts, and everyone could decide for themselves if they want to cut loose or come back to work.”