The Summer House: A gorgeous feel good romance that will have you hooked

“I worried I might be rusty,” he admitted, mixing more taupe to the yellow on his palate. “But it’s like riding a bike: just get back on and go.” He examined the color and then added some white. “You know, once, I did a mural for a lady who owned a beach shop. She came in and started sobbing. I nearly had a heart attack. Luckily, her tears were out of happiness. I’ve never been so relieved in all my life,” he said with a chuckle.

“Haha. Have you painted a lot?”

“Ah, not too much. I prefer drawings to murals really. I don’t let anyone see them until I’m finished. There’s something about the seclusion—just my eyes and my pencil on the page—until I’m ready to show someone. Sometimes I don’t show anyone at all. It feels more personal to me. Sometimes I showed Alice.”

“Were you close with Alice?” she asked daringly.

Frederick drew his brush lightly along the wall, making one long streak that, after a few other touches were added, she realized was a piece of sea grass. It was so lifelike she couldn’t believe it.

“Very. She and I were always together when we were young.”

“Did you drift apart?”

Frederick pursed his lips. “Not really. I just moved away, and distance will take a toll on any relationship.”

“Do you still own the house across the street?”

“Yep.” He dabbed on some white, his strokes seemingly chaotic until a seashell shape began to emerge.

“Do you ever rent it or anything?” She liked Frederick. He was easy to talk to, like Luke.

“No. I just left it. Like I said, it’s too hard. Too many memories.” He painted another little seashell and Callie was amazed at how easy he made it look. “Don’t feel like you have to entertain me,” he said. “I know you have a ton of work to do but you’re very kind to sit and make conversation with me.”

Callie smiled. “I’m going to run some errands. I’ll be right back. Olivia’s upstairs if you need anything. Would you like a glass of tea before I go?” Callie asked, standing up.

“That would be nice,” he said with that grin that looked like his son’s.



Callie had worked right through her sandpaper. It was nearly as smooth as the wall. She’d spent all morning before Frederick’s arrival filling holes in the upstairs bedrooms and hallways, and patching a few odd spots where the movers must have dinged the drywall. She’d had to drive to Rodanthe to the hardware store, and the drive there had been quiet apart from the radio. They were still watching that storm, the clouds lingering, taunting them all.

She couldn’t wait to get back and see Frederick’s progress on the mural. Now that he’d gotten started, she was so thrilled he was feeling creative again and that he’d decided to do his first piece at The Beachcomber. It made her feel like she’d helped in some way. Perhaps that was why she had been meant to find the lockbox. Maybe things were fine as they were, but Frederick needed to feel like he could come back to this place, that it wasn’t so scary after all. Maybe he’d even venture over to his cottage and have a little rummage inside.

When Callie pulled up in the drive, her skin stung with the sensation of a million needles as she came to a stop behind Luke’s SUV. She sat at the wheel, clutching the little bag of sandpaper and her purse, not sure what to do. Luke could read her better than anyone ever had, and she knew that if she had to come face to face with him, he’d know something wasn’t right.

Then panic set in. What if Frederick had told him? What if Frederick had also said she’d known all about it? Her hands started to tremble. With the car off, the heat was mounting despite the cloud cover, and she’d eventually have to get out or she’d develop heatstroke. Callie opened the door, the sea breeze feeling cool against her skin, and walked up to the house, the bag rustling in the wind at her side.

With a gulp of air, she turned the knob and pushed open the front door. She heard Luke’s voice first: unruffled, casual. “So when you put the sunlight on that stem there, did you have to mix colors to blend it, or is that just plain white?”

Frederick answered him. Callie, barely listening through the gale of worry in her head, moved quietly like a cat, coming up on the entrance to the living room. Luke and Frederick were standing side-by-side facing the painting, their backs to her, and the resemblance in their build was uncanny. She took a step toward them, a board creaking under her feet. Both of them turned around at the same time—even their movements were alike. She forced a nervous smile.

“Hey,” Luke said with a wave.

Callie took in the curve of his lips, the playfulness in his expression—there was no hint of worry there. She threw a look over to Frederick. He was smiling too, his face innocent of anything, but a sparkle in his eyes. She knew this moment was huge for him; she just didn’t expect to have it go quite like this.

“I thought I’d come over to help,” Luke said. “Since you wouldn’t go out with me because of all the work you had to do.” His voice was droll to be dramatic.

Always playing.

Well, this wasn’t funny, was it? He was standing in front of his biological father. And now Callie was witness to it. She had to watch it unfold, feeling the mortification that she knew he would feel once he found out, and it was only a matter of time because how could they all just exist like this together?

“I was only kidding,” he said, and she snapped out of her internal monologue.

Callie looked at Frederick, wondering what to do, but his look of warning made her feel like she should carry on covering everything up. She took in a breath. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve just been really busy and I don’t have time to do anything else.”

“You look really tense,” Luke said. “Is everything okay?”

Fear blasted through her veins and she just knew her face had turned a ghostly white. She was terrible at keeping secrets. She could hide all her emotions and know people for years without revealing anything about her worries, but when it came to a secret like this, her body language would give her away—and this was the biggest one she’d ever had to keep. It made her so uncomfortable she could hardly stand still. She wanted to tell Luke because, until this moment, she’d been able to tell him anything. He was the first person she’d ever met who made her feel like she could open up and, instead, she had to be closed off.

“Callie, what’s wrong?”

She blinked, steadying herself. “Nothing. I’m fine. I’ve just had a lot on my plate lately with the house.” She caught Frederick look down at the floor and she wondered if he felt guilty for putting her in this position. It wasn’t his fault.

“You need a break,” Luke said, striding over to her. “Let me get you some lunch. Nothing fancy; just somewhere we can kick back and relax.”

She shook her head, but knew she didn’t have a good reason to say no.

“Callie…” Luke looked utterly concerned which only made her panic worse. She felt just awful.

“Okay, fine,” she said, raising her eyebrows in an attempt to look light-hearted. She’d caved, faltered, but she couldn’t help it. Telling him now would only make things worse. She’d have to be strong. She’d just go out to lunch, have a sandwich, ask him about work, and then go home. That was it.

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