Unforgettable Summer Read online

  Caroline was watching me for some sort of stunned, or pained, reaction.

  Instead I just shrugged. “Well, okay. What about that? I mean, why tell me?”

  “I just thought you’d want to know. They were really close.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Really close,” she repeated.

  I figured she was trying to say, in her Caroline way, that they’d slept together. “I don’t see how it really matters, but okay, now I know.” I shrugged. “What other news you got?”

  “What do you mean?” Caroline asked.

  I leaned forward on the desk. “Tell me about Miss Crossley. Who did she date last summer?”

  Caroline glared at me. “Ha ha. You think you’re so funny.”

  “Come on, if you’re spilling gossip, tell me everything. In fact, who did you date last summer? If I don’t have the background on every single person here, I won’t feel comfortable,” I said. “I mean, this is the kind of stuff I was looking for that night at the bonfire. The dirt on everyone. But no one said anything.”

  The phone rang and Caroline grabbed it on the first ring, no doubt to avoid my question. “Thank you for calling the Tides Inn, my name is Caroline, how may I assist you?” she said in a sugary-sweet tone.

  She had the perfect phony voice to be answering the phone. I would never have been able to match that, so she probably did deserve the front-desk job over me.

  What was Caroline so worried about? Zoe was seeing Brandon-with-a-motorcycle now, so it wasn’t as if Caroline had to look out for her best friend’s interests.

  Does Caroline have a crush on Hayden? I wondered. Is that why she’s being so rude to me, and why she wants me to stay away from him? Is that why she’s spying on us?

  If that were true, maybe she felt like she deserved him, since she’d known him longer.

  Still, I couldn’t picture her and Hayden together. He seemed too loud and adventurous and fun, and she seemed too rigid and, well, unfun.

  But if she truly liked him, I could let her have him. I could wait until she got off the phone, and tell her not to worry, that Hayden was all hers and I’d keep my distance.

  Except I didn’t want to do that. So I walked out of the lobby onto the back porch, stretched my arms over my head, and took a deep, satisfying breath of the fresh salty air. I couldn’t wait to get back onto the beach.

  “Do you have to look so happy?”

  I turned and saw a man sitting in one of the wicker chairs, near the edge of the porch. He had his feet up on the railing and a computer on his lap. He looked like he was in his forties, with slightly graying black hair, longish sideburns, and wore a loose linen shirt and jeans.

  “I’m sorry?” I asked.

  “You look too unbearably happy. And must you breathe so loudly? You even breathe happily,” he commented.

  “I just really enjoy the way the air smells here.” Or, at least I did, I thought as I fanned the cigarette smoke away from my face. “What are those, clove cigarettes?” I asked.

  “No, they’re Turkish.”

  “Mm.” Cool-sounding, but still cancer-causing, I was guessing.

  I remembered Miss Crossley’s instructions on our first day. You don’t have to smoke with the guests, but you do have to offer them a light. Fortunately, this guy didn’t need one.

  “It’s impossible to concentrate around here, with so much coming and going,” he said. “And nobody told me this place would be full of children.”

  I was going to point out that he shouldn’t sit on the entrance facing the beach, where everyone had to walk past, if he wanted privacy. But that seemed obvious—not to mention a little obnoxious. “I don’t know, it’s still kind of early in the season. I don’t think there are that many kids. What are you trying to concentrate on?” I asked.

  “Writing,” he said.

  “Oh. Oh!” I hadn’t recognized him at first, but of course—it was the writer Caroline had mentioned at breakfast.

  “And it’s only June, and this is the sixth place I’ve stayed already this summer, and I haven’t been able to write a word at any of them. Though that’s not your fault. I mean, it is, but it isn’t.”

  I laughed. “How is it my fault—like, at all?”

  “It isn’t. I was just grasping at straws. Speaking of straws, here we are now.” He nodded at Daunte, who was carrying a tray toward us.

  Daunte smiled at me on his way past, then set a tall glass on the table and had the guest sign the bill before heading back inside.

  He grimaced as he drank it. “Horrible, awful stuff.”

  “What is it exactly?” I asked.

  “Quintuple espresso, on ice, with a splash of grenadine and a lemon wedge.”

  The description alone was enough to turn my stomach. “And it’s bad?” I asked. “Should I get you another one? Here—let me do that. I’ll run to the kitchen,” I offered.

  “No, it’s not the way it’s made. I mean, it’s supposed to taste ghastly. And it does, so I can’t complain to the bartender.”

  “Barista,” I said.

  “Whatever,” he said. “As long as it works, I don’t care.” He took another gulp and made a face. “Something has to work. Or else I’ll have to pack, again, and move to yet another hotel for inspiration.”

  “How would moving help? I mean, how do you know this isn’t the right place to write your next book? It could be the perfect spot, if you just give it a chance.”

  “Your optimism is tedious. But I’ll take it.” He looked over at me. “What’s your name?”

  “Liza.”

  He reached over to shake my hand. “C. Q. Wallace.”

  I wanted to ask what the C. Q. stood for, but I decided that would be rude. If a person chose to go by his initials, there must be a reason—probably that he didn’t like his name. Anyway, I could get the information out of Caroline later. If she was still speaking to me.

  “You work here?” he asked.

  “No, I just offered to run to the kitchen for you because I’m such an optimist,” I said.

  He laughed and lifted his coffee cup. “Touché.”

  CHAPTER 7

  That night I ran up to the shuttle van just as Hayden was pulling away from the Inn. The van was always parked right out front, on the circular drive, and I’d caught him just before he left. I was panting and out of breath as I knocked on the window to get his attention.

  Hayden lowered the window and stared at me. “What are you doing here?”

  I waved my pager in the air, because I was temporarily unable to speak.

  He leaned out the window. “You need a new pager?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Town. Have to . . . go to . . . town.”

  “Okay . . . Well, don’t die on me. Get in.”

  I walked around and climbed up into the front seat of the van. Then I slicked my wet hair back from my face.

  “Were you summoned out of the ocean?” Hayden asked.

  I laughed. “Almost. I had just gotten out of the shower when Miss Crossley paged me.”

  “And what did she want? Did she say I needed company? An assistant, maybe, to carry all the luggage? ’Cause that would be nice.”

  “No!” I laughed. “I called and she said to come to her office, so I did and then she hands me this pen. And tells me I have to go to town with you and find more pens like this. And she tells me I have like thirty seconds before you leave for the train station. I tried to tell her I had a car here and I could drive, but she said this was official Inn business, so I should take the official Inn van—”

  “No problem. There’s a small office supply store near the train station,” Hayden said.

  “Oh. Okay,” I panted. “Then it doesn’t completely not make sense. You could have gone there, though, couldn’t you? I mean, why didn’t she ask you to just run in and get the pens?” I asked.

  “I see. Trying to get out of work already.” Hayden nodded. “You’ve only been a gofer for a couple days and you’re
already trying not to go for stuff?”

  “No!” I said. Then I laughed. I seemed to do that a lot around him. Was he that funny, or was I that nervous? “Well, maybe.”

  “No, I know what it is. Miss C. probably didn’t want me to leave the van, in case the train comes and nobody’s there to meet the guests. Although that’s completely ridiculous, because the train is almost never early. In fact, it’s usually late by a few minutes.” He pulled out onto the main road into town. I was busy combing my hair and squeezing the ends to wring out some of the extra water.

  “Do you need a towel?” Hayden asked.

  “No, that’s okay. I can just dry my hair this way.” I opened the window and let the warm evening air rush over me. The day had been one of the warmest yet, which was why I’d needed an extra swim, which was why I’d needed an extra shower. I’d even postponed dinner, preferring instead to spend the time in the water bodysurfing. Of course, now it was looking like I wouldn’t eat at all, given that it was about a half hour trip to the train station, and by the time we got back it would be close to nine. But I could always sneak into the Hull and grab a bowl of cereal, at least.

  “So. Pens,” Hayden said. “Miss Crossley had a sudden urgent need for pens.”

  I shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Uh huh. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who ever runs out of things,” Hayden commented. “You know what I mean?”

  What was he getting at? “What, you think I made this up? I didn’t!” I said. “If I wanted to go with you, I would have just asked.”

  “Really.”

  “Really,” I said. “Anyway, like I said, I have a car here. Last time I tried to start it, though, it wouldn’t start. But let’s say I did want to go to town. I’d drive that,” I said.

  “If it started,” he said.

  “Right.” It was difficult to be indignant when you drove an old, slightly dented, slightly-to-very-unreliable car. And your hair was wet, and your hair made the back of your shirt wet, and you had thrown on jeans that were clinging to you because the night was so hot. And they weren’t even your favorite jeans to begin with.

  “So how many guests are we picking up?” I asked.

  Hayden grabbed a slip of paper on the dashboard of the van. “Lyle, party of four.”

  “How does this work? Do they pay you? Do they tip you?” I asked.

  “Tips are welcome and appreciated,” Hayden said in a monotone voice.

  I laughed.

  “That’s what it says in every other shuttle van or bus I’ve ever been in, but not this one,” Hayden said. “But people seem to know, anyway. I carry their luggage, I tell them whatever they want to know about the Inn, the area, my college plans.”

  “You’re like a tour guide,” I said.

  “Kind of. I guess,” he said.

  “You’re the first impression they get of the Inn.” I checked out his official Tides Inn polo shirt, khaki shorts, and Tides Inn ball cap. “You’re dressed for the part. Shoot. I probably should be, too.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll just tell them you’re some random girl I picked up on the way,” Hayden said.

  “Oh, thanks.” I laughed. “That’s how I dream of being known.”

  “And you obviously got caught in the rain. Not that there’s been any rain,” he said.

  “Tell them you saw me swimming to town—no, drowning in the ocean—and you pulled over to offer me a ride.”

  “Good. That’s good.” He nodded. “Okay, so we’ve got our story straight.”

  “I’m surprised Miss C. didn’t tell me I should be better dressed. She was a little frantic,” I said. “Like, really stressed about these pens.”

  “Whenever she gets like that, it’s usually because of a guest. So maybe those pens aren’t for her, maybe they’re for someone staying at the Inn,” Hayden suggested.

  I looked at the pen, twirling it back and forth in my palm. “You know what? You’re right. I bet these are for that famous writer, C. Q. Wallace. You know, the guy Caroline mentioned? I actually met him and talked to him this afternoon.”

  “What’s he like?” Hayden asked.

  “What’s that word that means someone’s kind of rude . . . but funny? You know, someone who sits around and complains about everything,” I said.

  “What was he complaining about?”

  “Writer’s block.”

  “Wait a second. Didn’t he have some huge best-selling book? Isn’t that what Caroline said?”

  “I guess. I don’t know. Is there a bookstore in town where we could check out his books?”

  “There is, but I doubt we’ll have time tonight,” Hayden said. “What with the emergency pens and all. Maybe another expedition, another night.” He glanced over at me as he stopped at a red light.

  What was he implying? Was he asking me out—sort of? I wondered. “Sure,” I said slowly.

  And then he just sat there and stared at me for a few seconds, without saying anything. As if there was something about my face he was trying to memorize, in case he had to describe me or pick me out of a police lineup. I could feel this heat on my face, and it had nothing to do with the warm evening.

  “Um, I think you can go now,” I said, gesturing to the stoplight. “The light’s green.”

  “Yeah, of course.” Hayden coughed and turned his attention back to driving.

  “Told you the train would be late.”

  I walked out of the small office supply store to find Hayden standing on the sidewalk, waiting for me, clutching an ice cream cone in each hand.

  “Curmudgeon,” I said.

  “What?” Hayden laughed. “What did you just call me?”

  “Not you. The guy who needs these pens.” I held up the small brown bag that contained a dozen of the special pens. “I just thought of the word I was trying to think of before to describe him,” I explained.

  “Curmudgeon. Okay.” Hayden held out one of the ice cream cones to me. “You like chocolate? Everyone likes chocolate, right? Which is what I was thinking. See, I was going to get a vanilla and a chocolate, to give you a choice, but then, if you chose chocolate, I’d be stuck with vanilla, which would suck.”

  “Always thinking of others, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “Hey, I can eat both of them,” Hayden offered.

  “What? No way.” I took the waffle cone from him. “I’m starving—thanks. How did you know I missed dinner?”

  “I didn’t,” Hayden said. “Anyway, it’s not like you can’t have dinner and ice cream.”

  “How much do I owe you?” I asked.

  Hayden shook his head. “No problem.”

  “No, seriously,” I said, taking a few dollars out of my pocket.

  “Don’t even.” He pushed my hand away. “Save it for your next trip to the coffee shop.”

  “Okay. It’s a deal. I’ll treat next time we both happen to be there at the same time,” I offered.

  “We could always go together. To make things easier,” Hayden pointed out.

  He was doing that thing again, where it seemed like he might be asking me out, but I wasn’t sure.

  “Hm. Yeah, I guess we could. If we ever get the same break schedule again.” That was seeming a little doubtful, since I wasn’t going to know my breaks ahead of time. Of course, I could ask Hayden for his cell number, so I could call him whenever I did have time to meet at the coffee shop, but that seemed a little aggressive.

  But I did have some questions I wanted to ask him. Since we were hanging out on a bench at the train station, eating our ice cream, now seemed as good a time as any.

  “So, you and Zoe,” I said. “You guys went out?”

  “How’d you find out about that?” he asked.

  “Caroline.”

  “Ah. And she told you because . . .”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. I didn’t ask, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Okay, good. Well, she’s quite the gos
sip, then.”

  “Yeah, and that’s exactly why I was pissed when she got that front-desk job instead of you.”

  “You were?”

  “She’ll try to keep tabs on everyone, and she’ll turn everything into a story that she just can’t wait to tell everyone else. She’s one of those . . . I don’t know. My mom would call her a busybody.”

  “So. There’s no story?” I asked.

  “Sure, there’s a story, but it’s pretty short. We dated,” Hayden said. “It was weird, because back home, we go to the same school—”

  “The vaunted Maple Syrup Academy,” I interjected.

  “Mapleville. And we never even talked much there. Anyway, we went out for a while here, then it started to kind of be not that much fun anymore.”

  “Don’t you hate it when that happens?”

  “It happened to you?” Hayden asked.

  “Sure. Once or twice, anyway,” I said.

  “So, are you—you know—seeing anyone right now? You have a boyfriend stashed at home?”

  “Stashed? Like, where. Under the bed?” I joked. Then I realized that was kind of an unfortunate, misleading choice of words. “Not quite.” I could tell him about Mark, but I wasn’t sure I needed to, at least not yet. Anyway, we were on an official break, so Mark wasn’t technically my boyfriend right now. He was my boyfriend-in-limbo.

  “How about you?” I asked, turning the question back on Hayden.

  “I don’t have any boyfriends at home, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said.

  “I wasn’t.” Though I guess I could have, if I didn’t know about him and Zoe.

  “No girlfriends, either.” He tossed the napkin into the trashcan.

  Okay, so we’d established that we both were available. Now what? Some people weren’t seeing anyone, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were available. Hayden could have sworn off dating, or he could be waiting for the perfect girl, or waiting until he got to college to have another girlfriend, or something like that. Because why start something now, when it was bound to implode in September? Then again, why not start something now—knowing it would be short-term?