Beach Blondes: June Dreams, July's Promise, August Magic (Summer) (22 page)

When Summer woke, she was surprised to find herself in the main house, surprised at all the things that weren’t there—the smell of mildew, the lap, lap of water. Surprised at the firmness of a pillow that had given her a stiff neck.

Then she was surprised to discover she was wearing an oversize man’s shirt. In a flash she recalled the night before, the terrible earlier parts, the sweet later parts. Her video camera was on the nightstand. Good grief, had she actually done a video blog entry for Jennifer? She’d probably babbled like an idiot. Her baby-tee and boxers were drying on the back of a chair, looking stiff from the salt water. She must have found the man’s shirt in the closet. Had this room belonged to Diana’s father, back before the divorce?

Summer got up, feeling strange and unsettled. She pulled on her robe, went to the window, and drew back the heavy shades.

“Whoa!” She staggered back, laughing and covering her eyes.

It was amazing. The sun! The sun of Florida, so much more intense than in her home state of Minnesota. The sun
there
was a light in the sky. The sun
here
seemed to penetrate everything, to be reflected back from every possible angle, to fill the world and everything in it with brilliant yellow light. The heat of it glowed from the window glass.

Outside the water sparkled, almost blinding in places. A sailboat was passing by on its way out to sea, big white triangular sails filled with morning breeze. It moved in slow motion, majestic and silent.

Summer slid the glass doors open and stepped out onto the balcony. The balcony was larger than the room, a vast wooden deck surrounded by white-painted rails. The chill of air-conditioning was just a memory in the heat that burned Summer’s bare toes and baked her upturned face.

She went to the edge of the balcony and looked down toward the stilt house. It was mostly invisible from here, hidden by trees that ran down to the water’s edge, but she could hear the sound of a hammer, pounding, stopping, then pounding again.

Seth. It could only be Seth.

It would be nice to go down and see Seth, she realized. And nice to go back to the stilt house. In fact, as long as the world was this gloriously bright, everything would have to be nice.

Summer went downstairs to make a pot of coffee. It was one advantage of being in the main house. Diana and her mother always bought great coffee. In the stilt house she had a jar of Folgers crystals. Even she could tell the difference.

Diana was already there in the kitchen, looking withdrawn and thoughtful. She was eating raisin toast and leafing indifferently through the newspaper.

“Hi,” Summer said, trying to sound casual and normal and not as if she was talking to a delicate person.

“Hi,” Diana said. “There’s coffee there already. You have to work today?” she asked casually, making conversation.

“Yes, lunch shift. Unless, you know, you want me to stay around here?” Summer poured herself a cup of coffee. “Look, Diana, maybe we could talk.”

“I don’t think so,” Diana said bluntly.

“Okay, then maybe you could talk to a counselor or something,” Summer said. “I’d be glad to go with you if you’re nervous about it.”

Diana made a wry face. “Summer, whatever you do, don’t start being sweet to me.”

“I’m naturally sweet,” Summer said with a trace of sarcasm. “I can’t help myself.”

“That’s better,” Diana said. “Listen, when you go down to the stilt house, I have something for you to give to Seth.” She slid a manila envelope out from under her newspaper.

Summer had a pretty good idea what was in the envelope.

“Tell him for me that he is the original sweet, decent guy,” Diana said softly. “I can’t go on torturing a guy who’d let me blow my nose on his shirt.”

Summer buttered her toast and sat down at the table. She waited for Diana to say more, but her cousin went back to gazing blankly at the paper, occasionally taking a quiet sip from her mug.

“Diana…” Summer began.

Diana sighed.

“Look, I really think we should talk about what happened last night.”

“Not much to talk about,” Diana said. “I put on a big dramatic scene. Now everyone knows just how messed up I am. I’m sure everyone is pleased—that cold witch Diana turns out to be nuts.”

“That’s not what anyone thinks,” Summer said.

“Uh-huh.” Diana tried a sneer that became a quivering lip. She concentrated determinedly on the paper.

“Diana.”

“Yeah? What?”

“I don’t think that at all. I think you saved me.”

Diana rolled her eyes. “That’s me, a regular rescue 911.”

Now it was Summer’s turn to feel reluctant. For some reason she hadn’t told anyone the details of the night before. It made her feel vulnerable or foolish.

Like Diana felt, Summer supposed.

“Diana, look. I didn’t tell you,” Summer began, “but Ross came to my room.”

Diana looked up sharply.

“He was at my door, just when you and Marquez and Seth showed up,” Summer said. “I thought he was Adam at first. He was drunk. I guess he’d been drinking for a while beforehand. I don’t know what would have happened. Maybe you think you looked foolish or something, but that’s not how it looked to me.” Summer had blurted the story in a quick burst, trying to get rid of it. But the cold fear she’d experienced was not entirely gone. If Diana had not come to the Merrick mansion, Adam might not have awakened. No one might have heard Summer crying out. “Anyway, Diana, I owe you.”

Diana was at a loss for words. She seemed to be concentrating, trying to digest some unusual idea. Then, with a small, impatient shake of her head, she said, “Nice of you to say that.” She stood up suddenly. “Well, I have to go take a shower.”

Summer watched her go and felt frustrated. It was as if what she’d said just hadn’t reached Diana. Like Diana had raised some wall of armor that kept out any expression of gratitude or friendship.

“Diana,” Summer called.

Diana stopped and turned back, annoyance and impatience clear on her face. “What?”

“Thanks.”

Summer poured coffee into two mugs and walked down to her stilt house with the manila envelope under her arm.

The stilt house sat out over the water of the bay, connected to land by a wooden catwalk. It was a modest little bungalow, even a bit shabby. When Summer had first learned that Diana had planned to stick her out here, rather than in the luxurious main house, she had been upset. But now it was home. Funny how quickly it had come to seem familiar.

A pelican sat on the railing, wearing an expression that seemed simultaneously dorky and scolding.

“Hi, Frank,” Summer said to the pelican. “How’s fishing?”

She knew the pelican’s name because Diver had told her. How Diver knew that its name was Frank was a mystery. But then, everything about Diver was a mystery. Last night, as she had finally climbed out of the water, she had been talking to him and only then realized he was no longer there.

Probably he had gone back up to the deck of the stilt house. Probably. Or maybe he was just a figment of her imagination. She smiled at the thought. But no, Marquez had seen him once. So if Diver was a hallucination, he was one that others could see, too.

Summer hesitated at the door to her house. She could hear Seth still hammering away and pausing to sing, then hammering again. A lot was unsettled between her and Seth. An awful lot.

He had asked her to go out with him. He had asked her
after
he had kissed her in the airport minutes after they first met. But then it had turned out he had a girlfriend named Lianne. He’d said they had broken up, but then Summer had walked in on Lianne lying in Seth’s bed.

After that, well, after that she no longer had any doubts about setting Seth Warner aside. It had seemed so obvious at the time. Seth was a two-timing jerk, while Adam…

Right, Summer. You have wonderful intuition about guys. You’re the genius of love.

She remembered the manila envelope under her arm. Seth would be glad to get it. No doubt he’d immediately burn what was in it. Which would be a shame, because it really was a very artistic photograph. Diana had taken it the summer before, by accident of timing snapping the shutter at the moment when Seth was rudely pantsed by Adam and Ross and dived for cover off the end of a pier. Diana said she’d been trying to catch the sunset. She’d called the picture “The Sun and the Moon.”

Summer put the mugs down on the rail. Yes, it
was
the photograph.
And
the negative. Yes, it was quite artistic. Nicely composed, all the elements balanced perfectly.

She put the picture back.

“That was wrong of me,” she told Frank. “I’m ashamed.”

Frank spread his wings and glided away, obviously shocked by her behavior.

Summer retrieved her mugs and went inside. An impressive amount of work had been done already. The kitchen floor gleamed, covered in shiny new linoleum. It was a real improvement over the dirty, stained, torn, ragged tile that had been there. The hammering continued in the bathroom. There was a smell of sawdust and glue.

Summer peeked around the corner. Seth was on his hands and knees, wearing jeans with no shirt. He had a very nice back. Muscular in a lanky sort of way, with a narrow waist and no fat. She contemplated the view for a moment.

Maybe the tarot lady had it right. Maybe Seth was the perfect guy all along.

Or else Diver was. Only…no, he wasn’t, somehow.

Or maybe the
right
guy was someone else entirely.

She had to keep all her options open. No falling in love until she was absolutely, dead sure.

Seth had replaced a lot of the old rotting floor with fresh boards, all neatly nailed in place. He positioned a nail and raised his hammer back over his shoulder.

“Hi.”

The hammer came down. “Aaaah, jeeeeeeez! Oh, man!” Seth jumped up, clutching his left thumb with his right hand and doing the dance of pain. “Mmmm-maaaan, oh, man, man that hurt.”

“Are you all right?” Summer asked, alarmed.

“Mmmph. Hhmmm. Oh, yeah, I’m swell. It’s not the first time I’ve smashed my finger with a hammer. Which is not to say that I enjoy it.” He inspected his thumb critically.

“Is it broken?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He wiggled it several times, wincing at the pain. He looked at her crossly. “Is that coffee for me?”

“Yes.” Summer held out the cup. “Sorry if I surprised you.”

He took the cup and tasted a sip. He shrugged. “No big deal. Just if you ever see me using a sledgehammer or an ax or anything, let alone a chain saw…” He worked his thumb back and forth.

Summer giggled. “You must have been down here working since the sun came up.”

“It’s better to start early,” Seth said. “It’s not as hot then. At least I should have the place ready to be lived in by tonight.” He looked down, staring into his coffee cup. “I’m uh, really sorry about, you know, being a jerk.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“The way I tore this place up,” he said. “I mean, I know it’s my job and all, I know I had to do some of it, but I could have been more careful. I could have made sure you could still use the place. Then, you know—”

Summer sighed. “Look, Seth, what happened wasn’t your fault. Besides, nothing did happen, so no biggie, right?”

“That’s not the point. I can’t just be a jerk because I feel like it.” His face was stony. “I was mad at you.”

Summer smiled ironically. “Yeah, I kind of figured that out, Seth.”

“I know what happened with Lianne,” he said. “I mean, I know what you think happened.”

Now Summer began to feel uncomfortable. It was way too early to be talking to Seth as if maybe they were going to have some kind of relationship. She had just broken up with Adam—if you could call it breaking up. Summer wasn’t sure. She’d never really had a serious boyfriend before. Was what had happened the night before an official breakup?

Maybe not official, but a breakup, definitely.

Seth seemed to sense that he had carried things too far, too fast. “Look, I’m sorry. I keep having to say that. I just meant that I know you’re feeling bad, and I wanted to tell you that I still really care about you.”

Summer made a frustrated noise. She couldn’t deal with this, not yet. “Seth, I really don’t think—”

He held up his hands. “Okay, I understand. You want time.”

“That’s right,” Summer said, gratefully seizing on the opportunity, “I want time.”

He pointed with his hammer at the floor. “I’ll get the rest of the tile laid in here before noon. That way the adhesive can dry by this evening. I’ll grout it tomorrow.”

“Grout?” Summer grinned.

“Sure, grout. What? What’s funny about grout?”

“I don’t know, just the word. Grout. Grout. I’ve never known anyone who used the word
grout
in casual conversation before.”

Seth smiled his reticent smile. “I’ll try to watch my use of that word.”