Beach Blondes: June Dreams / July's Promise / August Magic

by Katherine Applegate

  “Yes, I am,” Seth said, not fooled.

  Summer collapsed onto his chest and closed her eyes. “Then make me some coffee, because I’m sleepy.”

  She managed to stumble to the bathroom and subject her body to toothpaste, soap, and deodorant by the time Seth had coffee ready.

  She had also managed to run every possible scenario regarding the question of Sean Valletti through her head. They boiled down to two simple options: tell Seth, or don’t tell Seth. If she told Seth, he might blow it all out of proportion. If she didn’t tell Seth and he later found out, he was certain to blow it all out of proportion.

  The unanswered question was, what was the right proportion?

  “Thanks,” she said, accepting a cup from him.

  They decided to go outside. They circled the walkway that formed a narrow deck all the way around the stilt house, leaning against the railing and sipping coffee in silence for a while as they watched boat traffic move in and out of the bay. Little boats, big boats, sailboats, Jet Skis, windsurfers. It was a beautiful day, not too horribly humid, with the heat still many hours away from its afternoon peak. The sky was a perfect cornflower blue, with all the clouds gathered neatly together, far off to the east.

  Frank the pelican was away from his usual perch, off for a day of dive-bombing fish. Diver was missing from his perch, too. Off early, as usual, to a day of doing whatever it was Diver did.

  “So what happened to you last night?” Seth asked, yanking Summer away from her contemplation of the sky.

  “What do you mean?” Summer demanded in a too-loud voice. She could feel herself blushing.

  “I mean, we were going to get together after you finished working that boat party,” he said. No sign that he was suspicious.

  “Oh, right,” Summer said. “Well, it was J.T. After we got done, which was later than we expected, he wanted to talk. You know, about all that stuff.”

  Seth nodded sympathetically. “How is he doing? How are you doing?”

  “I think it’s harder for him,” Summer said. “Much harder. If it turns out to be true, if he is Jonathan, I gain a brother, and my parents find their long-lost son. But J.T. suddenly has to find a new place in the world. He has a new name, a new history, a new family.”

  Seth whistled sympathetically. “What are you guys going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Summer admitted. “None of this has really penetrated. I mean, it all still seems so unreal. I guess I’m just lying back and waiting to see what he does. I sure can’t tell my parents about it. Not until it’s definite.”

  “How about footprints?”

  “Huh? Footprints?”

  “Yeah. Most hospitals take a footprint when a baby is born. You know, it’s like a fingerprint, except I guess with babies the fingers are too tiny to use. If you know which hospital Jonathan was born at, maybe you can send away for the records.”

  Summer just stared at him.

  “I mean, it would tell you for sure, one way or the other. You would know once and for all whether Jonathan is alive and living right here on Crab Claw Key. Get them to FedEx the stuff and you could have proof within a couple of days.”

  The first call, the first of what would be many calls, came in at ten-thirty in the morning, just after Diana had finished working out to a TV fitness show. Diana hadn’t performed anything like real exercise in at least a year, perhaps more, and she found she was easily exhausted. Long before the half-hour show was over, Diana had grown sullen, spending more and more time coming up with imaginative insults to throw at the insanely perky exer-witch.

  Still, she told herself, it was exercise, of a sort. A small step of progress away from lying around in bed most of the day. There were actual beads of sweat on her forehead. That had to count for something.

  Her mother appeared in the doorway. She had “home” hair at the moment, which was to say hair of a normal human size, not the bouffant monstrosity she wore out in public because she thought that was what her fans expected of a successful romance novelist.

  Mallory looked suspicious. “There’s someone on the phone for you,” she said, eyeing her daughter closely.

  “Uh-huh. So?” Diana wondered if it was one of the agents from the FDLE. She hadn’t told her mother about going to the police. Mallory had tried to stop her from pursuing an action against the Merricks. Partly out of justifiable fear of the Merrick millions, partly out of self-interest—the Merrick family owned a piece of Mallory’s publisher.

  “So he says his name is Mark DeWayne,” Mallory said. “Do you know someone named Mark DeWayne?”

  That wasn’t the name of any of the cops Diana had met. “Never heard of him.”

  She levered herself up off the floor, where she had been stretching out, and went to the phone in the kitchen. Her mother followed close behind.

  “Yes?”

  “Is this Diana Olan?” a voice asked.

  “Yes, that’s me. Who is this?”

  He identified himself as Mark DeWayne, a producer for The Last Word.

  Diana met her mother’s anxious gaze. “The Last Word?” she said clearly, enjoying the dawning look of dark worry on her mother’s face. The Last Word was the new challenger to the more established TV tabloid shows such as Hard Copy and Inside Edition.

  “Yes,” Diana said in response to the next question, still holding her mother’s gaze. “Yes, I did level certain charges, as you say. I spoke with the Florida Department of Law Enforcement the day before yesterday.”

  Mallory’s eyes flew open wide. Her lip was trembling with suppressed rage. She seemed poised to rush forward, perhaps hang up the phone.

  “And you are the daughter of Mallory Olan, the writer?”

  “Yes, my mother is the famous writer,” Diana said, enjoying the moment. “You’re probably curious about how she’s reacting to this too, right?”

  Mallory froze.

  “Well,” Diana said, “of course my mother’s been very supportive. What kind of mother would be anything but supportive?” She sent her mother a look of cold triumph. From this moment on, Diana was in charge. What could Mallory possibly do, now that everything was going public? If she failed to support her daughter, she would look like an unfeeling monster.

  “I haven’t decided whether I want to do any interviews,” Diana said. “I mean, the FDLE guys advised me not to talk to people like you, no offense. So I’m going to have to think about it.”

  She listened a moment longer. One more surprise for Mallory. “Yes, there is a tape,” Diana said.

  Her mother rocked back, pressing her palm against the counter for support.

  “A videotape,” Diana said. “Sure, I can confirm that. The FDLE has a copy and I have a copy. What does it show? It shows Ross Merrick confessing, and it shows the senator trying to intimidate me.”

  To Diana’s surprise, her mother did not faint. On the contrary, she laughed, a dry, amused, perhaps amazed sound.

  A few minutes later, after repeated and increasingly annoyed refusals to sit for an interview, Diana hung up the phone.

  Mallory began clapping her hands, slow, ironic applause. “You’re a piece of work, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Am I?”

  “Oh, yes,” Mallory said. “You have one of the richest, most powerful families in America shaking in its boots.”

  “I guess I do. Plus the other thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “I also have one of the biggest romance writers in the country shaking in her boots.”

  Mallory bit her lip and said nothing. Diana moved close, close enough for her harsh whisper to be heard clearly. “You had your chance to decide who to support, Mother.”

  “I was only trying to protect you,” Mallory protested.

  Diana laughed derisively. “Sure you were. You were trying to protect me. All you cared about was the wellbeing of your daughter. And that’s the story I’ll keep telling everyone…which is a good thing, because if I didn’t, if I told people you trie
d to destroy evidence because you wanted to protect your career…I guess after that got out, you wouldn’t have much of a career.”

  Mallory took a deep, steadying breath. “Diana, whatever you think, I do love you.”

  “I love me too,” Diana said. “Now.”

  Just then Summer opened the kitchen door and came in. Reading the mood, her face went from sunny to guarded in an instant.

  “Is this a bad time?” Summer asked.

  “No, not at all,” Diana said brightly. “This is a great time.”

  “Hi, Aunt Mallory,” Summer said.

  “Summer. Well, I’ve barely had a chance to see you since you got here,” Mallory said. “We’ll have to remedy that. But right now I have a little headache.”

  Summer started to answer, but her aunt was already on her way out of the room.

  “Sense a certain tension in the air?” Diana asked gleefully.

  “Kind of,” Summer answered neutrally. “Were you guys planning World War Three or something?”

  Diana laughed, saw that her laughter had startled Summer, and laughed all the harder.

  “I, um, just was wondering if you’d seen my video camera,” Summer said, looking mightily uncomfortable. “I couldn’t find it. I use it to post a video blog.”

  Diana just laughed harder. “I have a very interesting story to tell you about your video camera,” she said. “Come on, we’ll get it, and then you and I—and why not, we’ll even pick up Marquez—we’ll all go shopping or something.”

  “Are you all right?” Summer asked skeptically.

  “I’m the greatest I’ve ever been,” Diana said. “And you know what, Summer? You helped start it all.”

  “Me? What did I help start?”

  “Everything. You know what you said to me the day after the whole big thing at the Merrick estate? You remember, the next day? You told me thanks. For coming to make sure you were okay, and for telling you everything. Thanks. That’s what started it.”

  Diana realized she was babbling, but she didn’t care. Summer looked as if she was measuring the distance to the nearest exit, but that just made Diana want to laugh again.

  “See, you said thanks, and I started thinking, thanks for what?”

  “Because you had taken a risk to protect me,” Summer said.

  “Exactly. You said I was brave. And I thought about it, and after a while I started to wonder if maybe you weren’t right. And then I started thinking, you know, Diana, maybe if you were brave for Summer, you could be brave for yourself, because what it all comes down to in the end is that you have absolutely no one in the world but yourself. And from that the whole answer became clear.”

  “What answer?”

  “The answer to why I should live rather than die,” Diana said simply.

  “So…”

  “The answer is revenge. Hurt everyone who ever hurt you. Hurt them worse than they hurt you. Hurt them until they never want to hurt you again.”

  It was obvious, really, now that she understood it.

  And yet Summer was looking at her with pain in her eyes. Pain and concern.

  “Come on,” Diana said, “let’s go do something.”

  “Okay,” Summer said reluctantly. “Just remind me not to make you mad.”

  8

  Hairy Chests, Tape, and Doing the Right Thing with Each

  It was an unusual get-together, to say the least.

  Summer, Diana, and Marquez, sunglassed, sandaled, and bare-midriffed, occupied an outdoor table on the deck of the appropriately named Marina Deck restaurant. They had before them various extravagant, rapidly wilting salads and sweating cold beverages. The sun was high in the sky, but only their bare legs stuck out from beneath the shade of the umbrella.

  One of the unusual parts was the conversation, which had started with Diana’s incredible tale of the video camera and moved to Summer’s even more incredible tale of the underwater cave and her long-lost brother.

  The other unusual part was that while Summer was behaving like herself, Diana and Marquez seemed to have switched personalities. Marquez was acting just short of sullen, while Diana, of all people, was the life of their little party, giddy, witty, flirting with the waiter, and admiring the parade of passing men in shorts and trunks and Speedos.

  They were down just a little from the Crab ’n’ Conch, overlooking the marina. The large boat—Sean Valletti’s uncle’s boat—was still parked at the far end of the pier.

  “Footprints,” Diana said, nodding her head sagely. “Sounds like a good idea to send for them. Seth is always very practical that way. The kind of guy who’s good with his hands, if you know what I mean, and, Summer, I’m sure you know what I mean.” Diana wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  Summer exchanged a look with Marquez. Yes, Diana was definitely acting strangely.

  “You know, Summer, I thought for a while there that I might take a quick pass at Seth myself,” Diana chatted away. “I mean, he is cute, isn’t he?”

  “I think so,” Summer said darkly.

  “He has a better behind than anything I’ve seen here on the boardwalk.” Diana laughed. “Don’t worry, just kidding, Summer. I’ve decided against that.” She took a long sip of her virgin strawberry daiquiri. “But now that I’m back, well, I’m back. Just because Adam was a disaster doesn’t mean I should become a nun.”

  “I’m sure the sisters at the convent will breathe a sigh of relief,” Marquez muttered. “Do you have a guy in mind? Or will this be someone you call from the fiery pits with a pentagram and a Black Mass?”

  “That’s better, Maria,” Diana said patronizingly, patting Marquez’s knee. “See, Summer? Maria’s finally waking up.”

  Marquez made a halfhearted attempt to stab Diana’s hand with a straw.

  “Actually, there is a guy—” Diana began.

  Summer cut her off with a karate chop in the air. “Shh. Turn around. Don’t look!” She turned away from the boardwalk, rested her elbows on the table, and cradled her head in her hands.

  “Where? What are we looking at?” Diana demanded, rising from her chair to look around.

  “I said, don’t look!” Summer hissed.

  “Oh, I know what she’s hiding from,” Marquez said, with a glint of her usual mischief. But to Summer’s relief, Marquez too shielded her face from view.

  “Now, there is a specimen,” Diana said. “Great shoulders.”

  “Diana. Will. You. Sit. Down?” Summer said through gritted teeth.

  Diana sat down abruptly. But it was too late. Sean had spotted her, and from spotting her, had spotted Summer.

  “Summer!” he yelled, plowing through a passing flock of in-line skaters.

  “What am I going to say?” Summer asked Marquez. “He’s going to ask me out.”

  Marquez shrugged.

  “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Diana asked grumpily. “What am I? Skank woman?”

  “No, you’re just schizo,” Marquez said. “Look, Summer knows this guy from back in Mootown.”

  “Hey, Summer, I almost didn’t see you,” Sean said as he arrived. Instantly he bent over and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. Then he grabbed a vacant chair and pulled it over to the table, sitting between Summer and Diana.

  He was wearing trunks and no shirt, still Minnesota pale but reddening. Summer noticed that he had actual chest hair. She had not encountered much chest hair before, and it disturbed her a little. Seth was completely smooth. Boyish. Sean managed to look as if he was ten years older somehow.

  “Sean Valletti, this is Marquez, and Diana Olan. Diana is my cousin.”

  “You’re one of the waitresses from last night, right?” Sean asked Marquez. “What kind of a name is Marquez?”

  “Japanese,” Marquez said.

  “Oh, I get it,” Sean said after a moment’s hesitation. He turned his attention to Diana. “You two are cousins, huh? You don’t look at all alike.”

  “Well, we’re not biologically related,” Diana expla
ined. “I mean, Summer’s father is my mother’s brother, but my mother was adopted, so, see, no actual blood relation.”

  Sean looked doubtful. “Are you pulling my leg? Some kind of a joke, right?”

  “No, it’s true,” Summer said. She was shifting away from him slightly and glancing over her shoulder every few seconds, hoping that Seth was not done with his work, and that if he was done, he had not decided to go for a walk by the marina.

  “I didn’t know that,” Marquez said. She made a gesture of relief. “Thank God. I couldn’t figure out how good and evil could come from the same family tree like that.”

  “So, Summer,” Sean said, “we on for the Bacchanal?”

  “Um…” Summer began.

  Marquez and Diana both waited attentively. Sean smiled his toothy smile and unconsciously rippled the muscles of his chest as he leaned close.

  “Um, I may have to work that night. I’ll have to see,” Summer temporized.

  Sean surprised her by taking her hand between both of his. “Try hard, okay? I feel like I had to come all the way here to realize what I was missing back home, you know? But now that we’re both here, why not?”

  “I thought you were seeing Liz Block,” Summer said, trying again to find a graceful way to resolve everything without having to tell him no. Actually having to tell Sean Valletti no was not something she had ever expected to do. She wasn’t any more prepared for it than she was for blowing off Zac Efron.

  Sean waved his hand dismissively. “History. I had to end that. I mean, she’s sweet and all, but she’s not very interesting. To be honest, it was because she was great-looking, you know?” He smiled a dazzling smile. “But you…you have the looks and the brains.”

  “Thanks,” Summer said, blushing in a way she hoped was invisible in the shade of the umbrella.

  “So make it happen, all right?” Sean said. He got to his feet. “Gotta go now. Nice to meet everyone.” He pointed an index finger at Summer. “You and me at the big party.”

  And then he was gone.

  Marquez and Diana both sipped their drinks and said nothing.