Rachel was momentarily startled, but the sweet smile on Nadine’s face contradicted her sharp tone.
Sandra turned to her. “Nadine, do you know how many times I’ve offered to buy that house? And now they’re not even running the inn—probably because it’s too much work. And really, at your mother’s age, who needs that much work? Don’t you agree?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“You tell your mother that when she’s ready to unload it, I will write her a check for the asking price.”
“We’ll talk,” said Nadine.
Rachel, having nothing to add to the real estate conversation, glanced at her phone to check the time. She was itching to leave and looked around for any signs that dessert was on its way out.
Was it too late to head over to Paul’s party? She was ready for some fireworks. And she wasn’t thinking of the ones in the sky.
Marin watched Kelly from across the table. The way Kelly talked and laughed and toasted the holiday, Marin almost wondered if she’d imagined their conversation at the A-House. She wanted to believe she’d imagined the conversation.
Finally, Kelly excused herself, and it was the opening Marin had been waiting for. She trailed her into the house, calling out to her in one of the beige living rooms.
Kelly turned around, startled.
“Jeez, Marin. You scared me. What are you doing?”
“Following you.”
“Obviously.” She tugged her long hair out of its ponytail and shook it loose. Her cheeks were flushed under the smattering of freckles.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said irritably. “Go back to the party.”
“Kelly, I’m really afraid you’re not dealing with this news at all. How can you be here talking and laughing like nothing is wrong?” Her eyes filled with tears.
Kelly put her hands on Marin’s shoulders. “Marin, keep it together. It’s the Fourth of July. The official start of the summer season. And it’s your last night here, so please—if I can have a good time, so can you.”
“What if it’s not my last night?” she said.
“Meaning?”
“I’m thinking of staying. I know you don’t want to tell Amelia what’s going on right now. But I want to be here when you finally do.”
Kelly gave her a quizzical look, wrinkling her pert nose and narrowing her eyes.
“Stay for how long?”
“A month. Or maybe until the end of the summer. I don’t know exactly. I’m just not ready to leave. Would that be okay with you?”
“Don’t do this because of what’s going on with me.”
“It’s not just that,” Marin said, and she realized it was true. She wasn’t ready to get back to the mess of her own life yet. “I like it here.”
“Well, in that case, I’m all for it. I told Amelia we should have kept the inn open this summer. She is happiest with a full house, and to have it filled with family? It’s a dream come true.” Kelly stepped forward and hugged her. “Having you here for the summer will be good for all of us.”
Marin exhaled in her embrace, feeling good about her decision.
“Marin—hey. Are you heading out?” Rachel had somehow snuck up behind them.
Marin did want to leave. She was exhausted.
“Yeah. Soon.”
“You girls should go to the pier and get a good spot for the fireworks. We’ll meet you there soon.”
“No fireworks for me. I’m going home,” Marin said.
“I was thinking of stopping by Paul’s party,” Rachel said.
Kelly looked at her phone. “It’s probably winding down. It’s almost fireworks time. Come on, Marin. It’s the best part of the day. I’m going to round up Amelia and your mother now.”
When she was gone, Marin turned to Rachel.
“What’s the deal with Paul’s party? Everyone we know is here.” Oh—not everyone, she realized. Marin sighed. “For God’s sake, Rachel. Stop chasing that guy.”
Rachel looked stricken. “What do you mean?”
“Paul’s party? Luke? I mean, it’s obvious every time I see that guy he’s ready to jump into my pants.”
“Oh my God, you’re disgusting!”
“I’m disgusting? Okay, fine. Disgusting, but accurate.”
“You’re just jealous!” said Rachel.
“Of what?”
“Your boyfriend dumped you so you don’t want anyone else to be happy!”
Rachel turned on her heel and stormed off. Marin felt a small flicker of regret—had she been too harsh? But she was too worn out to care.
“Oh, good—you’re still here,” Amelia said, rounding the corner and entering the room with Kelly close behind. “Kelly said you’re going home without seeing the fireworks? I won’t hear of it. Come along. You don’t mess with tradition.”
Kelly touched Marin’s shoulder. “Come on, kiddo. Carpe diem and all that.”
Marin was about to protest but…where had she just heard that expression recently? It was Paul—that first day at the A-House. When he told Marin that Kelly was a cancer survivor.
She followed them out the door.
Marin hadn’t spent much time at MacMillan Pier, though she passed it every single day. Right in the center of Commercial Street, it was where the ferry came in from Boston and where you could catch a whale-watching tour. There were quirky little art studios and a pirate museum. But tonight, the pier had one purpose and one purpose only: serving as one of the penultimate stops for the daylong Fourth of July extravaganza. Nine hours since the parade started, and the revelers were still going strong.
Personally, Marin was over it.
Amelia and Kelly set up folding beach chairs they’d picked up at the house on the way over. They wore red, white, and blue foil Uncle Sam high hats that were being handed out, and an artist painted a small American flag on Kelly’s cheek.
Rachel perched on a narrow plank that bordered the walkway and the beach, facing the water, still pouting about what Marin had said to her, yet clearly craning her neck and looking around for Luke Duncan. Well, at least she couldn’t say Marin didn’t warn her.
“I’m going to walk to the water,” Marin said to Amelia.
“Okay, hon. If you see Paul or Bart, send them over.”
Marin threaded her way through the crowd. Someone was blasting the Sia song “Chandelier” and something about the song and the pier and the water gave her a flash of déjà vu. It was a memory of a late-winter evening in New York, sometime well past midnight, walking along the East River promenade with Julian. He held her hand, something they had sworn never to do in public. But in that moment, he clearly had not cared; he had reached for her hand, and her heart soared.
She shook the thought away, trying not to wonder what he was doing for the Fourth. She’d thought about it earlier and Googled where the Manhattan fireworks would be this year. Where she would have been, had life not laughed in her face.
“Hey, Marin!”