Summer's End (Evening Island Book 2)

by Olivia Miles

  “We did,” Heather said. “And a friendship is what it still is.”

  It was true, Andrea supposed. The summer people kept in touch over the year—but not by much. Still, they knew enough about everyone’s whereabouts—like that the Morgan sisters whose family lake house was right beside theirs had also all ended up in Chicago, at least briefly. Years back, when they’d all been younger and newer to the city, they’d met up, but it felt strange and awkward and out of place. The island was what drew them all together, what kept their relationships special.

  Besides, up until recently, Heather had been a happily married woman. Or so Andrea had thought.

  She knew that her sister didn’t like to talk about her marriage ending any more than she liked to talk about the circumstances that led to it. To this day, Andrea wasn’t sure of the reason for the split, but she didn’t pry. It wasn’t her business, and relationships had never been her area of expertise. That was more Kim’s territory. And their mother’s, she thought sadly.

  She adjusted her shoulder bag and moved aside for other passengers. The air was fresh with just the slightest breeze, and she could hear the sound of horse hooves clacking in the distance. She took a few breaths, trying to pull herself away from all that business back in Chicago, knowing that she would have to find a way to stop thinking about it for a couple of weeks at least.

  “Any word from Kim?” Heather asked once their luggage had been unloaded.

  Andrea hadn’t seen anything pop up on her phone, but then, she’d been engrossed in firing off as many emails to her assistant, her boss, and every active client she had so that everything was covered in her absence.

  She shook her head. “Maybe she’s already there. I know she had hoped that one of us would have gone to Mom and Dad’s.” She caught herself, and, seeing the widening of her sister’s eyes, motioned to the street ahead. They’d need to flag a carriage, and they wouldn’t be the only ones hoping to do so on a Saturday evening. Tourism kept this island going—even if some of her happiest memories were those spent in her youth, early in June when school had just let out and the island felt quieter, like it was their own private world.

  “I think she knew there was no chance of you taking another day off work Friday to head out early,” Heather assured her as they managed to slowly work their luggage to the street opening. The smell of fudge—the island’s famed treat—was strong and sweet. Andrea’s stomach rumbled loud enough for Heather to hear and they both laughed. It was a relief to ease the tension.

  “I don’t mean to be hard on Kim, but she sometimes forgets that while she’s been busy collecting another degree and playing wedding planner, the rest of us are trying to earn a living.”

  Heather’s look showed Andrea what she already knew. She was being unfair, even if there was truth in that statement. As the youngest, Kim had always been doted upon by everyone in the family including her, and everything fell into stride for Kim in a way that it never had for Andrea. Kim didn’t worry too much about grades but did just fine anyway while maintaining an active social life all through high school and college. She’d worked in her twenties, but clocking out at five suited her, and she always used up every vacation day, sometimes dipping into the sick ones, too. When she decided to go back to school for a one-year master’s program, she didn’t think twice about walking away from her job or starting over again. And now she was marrying into a wealthy family that seemed to have become her preferred people within moments of meeting them.

  Andrea suspected that Heather shared her sentiments. The pinched look on her face all through Kim’s bridal shower a few weeks ago said as much.

  “Sorry. It’s been a crazy week at work and there were a lot of loose ends I was hoping to tie up before I get back.” She didn’t need to meet her sister’s eye to know that there was little chance of that happening on this remote island. In town, she might stand a chance, but at the house, she could probably forget it. “I’ll feel better once I have a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.”

  They managed to get on the next carriage coming down the street, and for the entire ride to the house sat in companionable silence, listening to the trotting of the horses’ hooves on the dirt road, taking in the scenic view of Evening Island in full bloom, from the lush flowering shrubs and picket fences to the dark blue water of Lake Huron that stretched far into the distance.

  It had been a long time since she’d been back to the island. Once they were older, her parents chose to rent out the old Victorian on West End Road for the spring and early summer months, always returning in August to close out the summer. When Andrea had first graduated from college, she used to come up for Labor Day weekend, even though Kim always stayed longer, and Heather came up most weekends for August. But then Heather got married and Labor Day became her time, too, along with Daniel, who balanced things out for their father, not that he’d ever complained about being outnumbered. Still, Andrea knew he enjoyed having another guy in the family, and it wasn’t like Andrea was ever bringing anyone home. She didn’t have time for anything that serious.

  She didn’t have time for Evening Island most years, either. She’d told herself—and her mother—that she’d come up last year. Set aside the time for it, even. Little did she know how that time would be spent instead.

  She forced her eyes on the road ahead, where a row of large homes faced the water, their front porches inviting and stirring up memories of happier days. Though they were called cottages here on the island, their scale said otherwise. Each home was different, with its own family and story, but over time they’d overlapped, the summers blurring together with the same familiar faces.

  As they came to a stop in front of the robin’s egg blue house with the white front door and the wraparound porch that was always the best spot for taking in the sunset, she couldn’t help but think how much she missed being here. But then, if she used up even a fraction of the vacation days she’d accrued over the years, she’d always assumed she could kiss any chance of partnership goodbye for good.

  Now she wondered just how much that choice had cost her, in every possible way.

  Quickly, they unloaded their bags and paid the driver. The street was otherwise quiet, as this stretch often was. Occasionally a tourist pedaled by on a rented turquoise bicycle, but otherwise, it was kept to the company of the Andersons, Morgans, and Taylors. The summer friends.

  “The house looks good,” Andrea remarked, staring up at it from the edge of the grass and admiring the colorful flowers that she couldn’t even begin to name. The peonies bloomed in July here on Evening Island, but the lilacs were what it was known for. More than once, they’d made the trip in spring to see them bloom and participate in the island’s annual festival. “The paint looks fresh.”

  “Well, there’s a new caretaker,” Heather said. “You know that Edward retired a while back. Now his grandson keeps an eye on the place, and he’s also dating Gemma. They live here now,” she said, motioning to the Morgan home, fondly known as Sunset Cottage.

  “I thought Ellie was the one living here year-round,” Andrea said. At least, that had been the case last time she’d been here, but that had been years ago.

  “Ellie’s in Europe right now, focusing on her art career.”

  Andrea didn’t know that, because unlike her sisters, who had engaged with guests at their mother’s funeral, and later read each and every card before tucking them into a keepsake box, Andrea had stayed in their father’s study for most of that hazy weekend, avoiding the hugs and murmurs of sympathy, aching to get back to Chicago, to think about something—anything—other than her situation.

  She pinched her lips, wanting to defend herself for not visiting more, or keeping in touch with their island friends more, but knew that it wouldn’t help her case. Neither of her sisters understood the importance of her career. The only person who understood was her father, but then, he was just as busy and hard to reach as she was, making their camaraderie a lonely one.

  An
drea scanned the porch and large paned windows, thinking of how familiar and foreign it felt all at once. Like no time had passed even though so much had. The house was frozen in time. A better time.

  Kim’s old yellow bicycle was propped against the side of the porch: a sure-tell sign that she had already arrived.

  Now, as Andrea carefully set her luggage on the porch and waited for Heather to open the door, she felt a pang of jealousy over the evening that Kim had shared with their dad last night while she was putting in her final hours at the office, wishing for that kind of freedom that she’d made impossible for herself to ever find.

  Until now.

  With an intake of breath, she watched as Heather turned the handle at the same time that Kim pulled it open from the inside.

  “You’re here!” Kim’s excitement was contagious as much as it was somewhat out of place. After all, they all lived in the same city, and even if they might not meet up very often, the opportunity was always there.

  “It looks exactly the same,” Andrea said as she set her luggage down in the large entrance hall and looked around at the scuffed wooden floorboards and lead-paned windows original to the home. There was a ray of light coming from the largest window on the landing, and now Andrea looked up the stairs, which didn’t seem so tall anymore, and set her hand on the ornate banister as she eased off her shoes, which were probably not the most appropriate for the dirt roads all over the island. She hadn’t known what to pack, it had been so long, and she hadn’t been able to think clearly when she was studying her closet last night. She’d been too shaken since departing the office; even though it was only for two weeks, she couldn’t shake the strange sensation that it could be for the last time.

  Just in case, she’d left her favorite plant on the window ledge, with strict instruction to Nicole for its care.

  “Of course it looks the same,” Kim said good-naturedly as she closed the door. There was no air-conditioning in the house, but the ceiling fan in the front living room was running on high, and already Andrea could feel the evening breeze filtering in from the back rooms where Kim must have already opened the windows.

  They walked back to the kitchen, with its vintage cupboards that had been painted a soft blue about twenty years ago, with the outdated appliances that still functioned, but only with routine maintenance and care. Andrea could see that the house had been well kept in their absence. She made a mental note to thank this new caretaker when she met him.

  “I stopped by the Main Street Market after I arrived so there’s a bit of food, but not much,” Kim said.

  Considering it had to be transported via a bicycle basket, Andrea wasn’t surprised to find only a few items in the fridge. Heather reached for the pitcher of lemonade and, as was her nature, poured them each a glass.

  “How was Dad?” Andrea asked, sipping her drink and letting it cool her skin. Through the kitchen window, she stared at their old playhouse—which had once felt so big and now seemed so small—complete with curtains in the windows. It had been transformed into a gardening shed years back. Probably, that had always been its intended use. She smiled at it now, exhaling a long breath. She’d be okay. She’d find a new routine. She’d stay busy. She’d get a little fresh air. And then she’d get back to the city. To her life.

  Kim flicked on the tap and began filling one of the large ceramic vases that their mother had collected over the years from the boutiques in town. “Dad? He’s fine.”

  Andrea fought back a surge of annoyance and leaned against the counter. “Fine? What else?”

  Kim shrugged and turned off the water. There was a pile of hydrangea on the counter, and she proceeded to set a few in the vase. “I’m not sure what you want to know. He’s fine. You know how Dad is.”

  “I do know how Dad is,” Andrea said. They all did. The man was busy. Always was, and it had only increased since last summer. But then, she supposed the same could be said for herself. “But I’m not the one who had a chance to see him just a few hours ago.”

  “Hey, I asked. You could have come.”

  Andrea stared at her sister. It wasn’t like Kim to snap, much less use a firm tone. Kim was happy going with the flow, nothing bothered her, and if it did, she wasn’t quick to show it.

  Now, Andrea wondered just what she was implying, and what she wasn’t saying.

  “I couldn’t take yesterday off to come to Michigan,” Andrea reminded her. “If you really felt strongly about all going together, we could have stopped over to see Dad today and then come up to the island tomorrow instead.”

  But Kim was shaking her head. “Dad’s flying out of town tonight. I told you, but you probably don’t remember.”

  No, Andrea didn’t remember, but once again, the tone Kim used was what Andrea cared about more.

  “You seem mad at me.” She flicked her gaze at Heather, who gulped her lemonade, avoiding input and probably still relishing in the fact that Billy was currently within walkable distance from her at this very moment.

  “I’m not mad at you!” Kim lifted the vase of hydrangea from the counter and walked out of the room with it.

  Andrea—never one to back down from anything—followed her down the hallway with its wood-paneled walls that housed framed prints of the island, collected over time. “You’re clearly mad at me. Can you blame me for having to work?”

  “I don’t blame you for having to work,” Kim said, but Andrea suspected this wasn’t true. She’d seen the look on Kim’s face over the years when she’d shown up late for a coffee or dinner because a client call delayed her. Kim took it personally, and there was absolutely nothing personal about Andrea’s work.

  And maybe that was half the problem, she thought, pushing back the memory of Pamela’s words.

  Kim set the vase on the console table near the fireplace in the front room, the one that was lined with framed photos of their past summers going all the way back to when Andrea was just a chubby baby sitting on her mother’s lap on one of the wicker chairs on the porch. Andrea looked at the photos, some black and white, others grainy, knowing each one even though she hadn’t seen them in so long. Her heart ached when she saw the last one she was in, a portrait of the entire family. She’d only come for a long weekend that year. She’d promised her mother she’d try to stay longer the next time.

  That was a promise she hadn’t kept.

  “So Dad is fine,” Andrea reiterated, looking away. She talked to him about once a month, but between his travel schedule and her long hours, their calls were usually brief, but pleasant. “How did he look?” When she’d seen him at Christmas, he’d seemed older than he’d been just a few months before. Maybe a little thinner too. It had hurt her to see. Reminded her of the circumstances she tried to forget.

  Kim seemed to think about this for a moment. “He looked really good, actually.”

  Andrea wondered then why she didn’t seem very happy in reporting this. “Okay, well, that’s good. And he’s still traveling a lot. It’s not too much for him?”

  Kim fluffed the flowers, not saying anything. Finally, she met her eye. “He seemed better, Andrea. Really, he seemed fine.”

  Well, that was something. Andrea sighed, deciding not to push the topic. Kim was upset with Andrea for not going with her yesterday and unwilling to communicate it, and Andrea had plenty of things she could say to Kim, but now was hardly the time. Her clothes felt stale from the long drive, and her skin felt dusty from the carriage ride. She needed a long, hot shower or a soak in the claw-foot tub in the bathroom at the top of the stairs. Maybe an evening walk.

  Preferably somewhere she could get some cell reception. It might be a Saturday, and she might be on vacation, but that had never stopped her before.

  “Well, I’m going to get settled. It’s been a long day.” And judging from the way things were going, it was going to be an even longer two weeks.

  She picked up as much of her luggage as she could carry and began her ascent up the winding stairs, admiring the carved w
ood banister and the tall window that let the light flow in on the landing. She took in the high ceilings once she reached the second floor and walked to her old bedroom, letting her hand rest on the old brass knob—they didn’t make them like this anymore. Inside, her room was just as she remembered it. A wrought-iron bed flanked by two small tables. A window seat with a view of the lake. Someone—probably Kim, but possibly the caretaker—had already thought to crack the window, letting the evening breeze flow. It was so quiet, as if the outside world didn’t exist at all, and all that she had to focus on was the beauty of this house and everything surrounding it.

  She supposed there was certainly a worse place to be trapped.

  7

  Kim

  Things were not off to a great start. That much was obvious, even if she could almost fool herself into thinking otherwise. Kim sat on the edge of her bed and stared out the open window at the unobstructed view of the shimmering lake. The first morning on the island was always the most exciting in past years, when the pent-up cabin fever from a long Midwestern winter, or later, city life, made her want to toss back the sheet and faded summer quilt and rush outside, still in her pajamas. And she often did that, even if as she got older it was just to sit on the front porch and admire the view with a cup of coffee.

  She’d do it today, per tradition. Convince herself that coming here hadn’t been a bad idea. That this trip could be just as magical as all those that came before it. That she and her sisters could shed their real-life problems for a couple of weeks and fall into a different rhythm—the one that was slower, and more relaxed, the one that was almost enough to make them dare to think that life across the water didn’t exist at all. At least for a little while.

  Unlike in years past, Kim dressed before going downstairs—and showered—because she knew from experience that the hot water tank could easily drain before she had a chance to hop in, and while this might not have bothered her so much when she was young, it did now.