Courtney beamed as I handed her down a strawberry float complete with a cookie straw. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that.”
“Well, I feel a sense of responsibility to further introduce you to the wonder that is the strawberry.”
“And you’re doing an admirable job.” She took a sip and nodded as I waited in anticipation. “It’s wonderful.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Is that Margaret Beringer I see up in that booth?” Courtney’s grandmother yelled as she came up behind her.
“Netta!” I shouted back. “Wait right there!” I quickly made up a second float and walked it down to her. “A strawberry float for you.”
Courtney raised one of her perfect eyebrows. “You’re going to go bankrupt if you’re not careful there, Maggie. You’re giving away all of your merchandise.”
“I seem to be walking on the wild side today.” I was also in a fabulous mood, which helped.
“You girls already know each other?” Netta asked. She had her gray hair in a twisty bun today and wore a festive red hat.
“We do,” Courtney said. “Because of Maggie, I know lots more about Abraham Lincoln.”
“Well, that’s something, I suppose.”
I laughed at her very candid response. Netta was a sweetheart, but she didn’t pull any punches.
“I was hoping you would introduce Courtney around, show her all the stuff she needs to know. Look out for her.”
Courtney looked instantly embarrassed. “Grams, I don’t need anyone to look out for me.”
“She does, too,” Netta whispered.
“I’ll do my best,” I whispered back.
“If you guys are done conspiring, Maggie, do you think at some point today I could introduce my mom to yours? She could use a friend.” The concern written all over Courtney’s face was not lost on me.
Netta nodded along. “I think that would be a very good thing.”
“Yeah, of course,” I told them. “She’s working in the booth now, but our shift ends in an hour.”
Courtney seemed relieved. “Maybe on the picnic grounds?”
“Sure. We’ll see you then.” Netta and Courtney disappeared into the throngs and I went back to work. My mother was, of course, more than agreeable, and we found the Carringtons right where they said they’d be. Mrs. Carrington sat in a chair with an untouched funnel cake in front of her on one of the long rectangular tables arranged in rows. She attempted a smile when we approached, but she seemed weary and nervous. Her eyes were red rimmed with dark circles beneath them. She was, in every way, a contrast to my own mother, who stood alongside me vibrant, outgoing, and friendly.
“Well, hello,” my mother said, happily approaching the group. She extended a hand to Courtney’s mother, who did not get up from the folding chair in which she sat. “I’m Evie Beringer. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Tanner Peak.”
“Thank you,” Courtney’s mother said shyly. “I’m Beverly. Courtney speaks very highly of your family.”
My mother swatted Courtney’s arm good-naturedly. “She’s just being sweet. Courtney’s welcome at our house anytime.”
I stepped forward. “Mrs. Carrington, I’m Maggie. Margaret.”
My mother grabbed my shoulders from behind. “This one belongs to me. I should have led with that.” She turned to Netta laughing, and Netta joined her.
Beverly Carrington’s watery blue eyes met mine. “A pleasure, Maggie. I’m glad Courtney has a friend.”
My mother, the natural, took her cue and pulled out the chair across from Beverly and took a seat. “Why don’t we have lunch tomorrow. We can meet at the café and I can catch you up on all the town gossip in one fell swoop.”
Beverly looked up at Courtney, who stood behind her. Courtney nodded encouragingly, and it seemed to be the confidence booster she needed. “That would be nice. What time should we meet?”
“How about noon?” my mother asked. “We can hit up the place in the midst of the lunch crowd and introduce you to some folks. How does that sound?” It must have sounded awesome to Courtney, who beamed at the turn of events.
“I would like that,” Beverly said conservatively. But she did seem pleased. I was proud of my mom in that moment for reaching out to someone who clearly needed it.
My mom leaned across the table. “We also have a book club you might like. Though I should tell you that those ladies drink more red wine than a nun on Sunday.” She laughed at her own joke the way she always did. “We do a little reading, too.”
“This is fantastic,” Courtney whispered to me. “Thank you.”
I shrugged off the thanks because this was just what people did in this town. They looked out for one another. “No problem. Are you enjoying the festival?”
“It just got infinitely better.”
*
I was actually excited for school that Monday, which never happened, especially not at this point in the school year. Maybe it was because summer was so close I could almost reach out and grab it. Maybe it was because Berta was back from her weekend away. Who knew?
Well, I did.
And it had nothing to do with either of those two things.
As I closed my locker and headed off down the hallway to my anatomy and physiology class, the skip in my step didn’t miss a beat as I passed Michael Kersten making out with Mindy Stevenson against her locker. I nodded in their direction. A few steps away, a clique of senior girls chatted about the fake IDs they’d used to get into a club one town over. I smiled and waved. Down the hall was the huddle of academics planning their final exam study sessions. I mentally high-fived them.
As I walked, Berta appeared next to me. “Alert. Louis is headed this way.”
“Well, you are looking extra alluring.” That earned me an elbow in the ribs. “And aggressive.”
Louis Macheski was a kid we’d grown up with since birth. Sweet. Quirky. Redheaded. Sometimes annoying. Always harmless.
He appeared right on cue.
“Berta. Hello. The AV club is doing a movie night. Not this Thursday, but the next Thursday. And it’s not just for club members, which is what I wanted to speak to you about, because in fact, anyone can attend. I was hoping you would.” He smiled at Berta, braces and all, before remembering me. “You, too, Margaret. God. You should come, too. I should have said that from the start. Everyone’s invited. I just wanted to make sure that Roberta—”
“Cool,” I said, stopping him before he continued until Christmas. “Maybe we will.”
“Do you know what they’re screening?” Berta asked.
He nodded as he absorbed the question. “I do not know, as of this moment. But I will check and get right back to you. To you both,” he said, making sure to meet my eyes. His exuberance was sweet and made me smile. But then again, I was excited too.
“Thanks, Louis,” Berta said, and patted him good-naturedly on the shoulder. A buddy pat—I hoped he understood that component. Louis fled down a side hallway, probably in search of the president of the AV club and an answer to Berta’s question. I turned to her in all seriousness.
“His love for you knows no bounds.”
Berta sighed and repositioned her backpack. “He’s a nice guy.”
“You realize you’re probably going to have to let him down easy at some point, though, right?”
She turned to me as we walked. “You sure I can’t keep smiling and patting his shoulder?”
“Might be cruel and unusual after a while.”
“I don’t like hurting people’s feelings,” she said, wincing.
“Which is one of the sweetest things about you. But maybe it’s the kinder way to go.”
She nodded and slipped into thought before we split for our respective classes.
When the time came for third-period history, I slid into my desk as always and spent the few moments before the bell going over my homework from the weekend, not at all wondering when Courtney would arrive. Not. At. All.
But the
n Mr. Blankenship stood from his ridiculous desk and class was under way. No Courtney. I forced myself to pay attention as we discussed the fallout of the Civil War and the economic effects of—giggling. There was definitely giggling coming from the back of the room, followed by the sound of it coming to an abrupt halt. I turned along with the rest of the class as Melanie, Courtney, and Lila Jane, the overzealous soccer goalie, took their spots surreptitiously. Courtney passed Mr. Blankenship an apologetic stare as she took her seat next to me.
“Hey,” she whispered, moments later, and sent me a smile. I wasn’t exactly someone who talked in the middle of a lecture, so I nodded politely. She wore a pale pink sundress with a thin brown belt. She even made a sundress look sophisticated. I shoved the thought from my mind and focused on the lecture, of which I’d already missed a good chunk.
Forty-six minutes later the bell rang and I gathered my stuff.
“See you later, Maggie,” Courtney said, dipping her head to catch my eye as I packed up.
“Yeah, see ya.”
Travis waited for Courtney outside the classroom and the two headed off down the hallway together. He leaned in and whispered something and she slugged him playfully. On the bright side, Courtney was fitting in and finding friends easily. I would try and concentrate on that particular detail and sideline the unattractive jealous thing creeping up my spine.
Louis decided to join us for lunch that day and went about setting out each individual Tupperware container his mother had meticulously packed for him. Homemade roast beef in one. Mashed potatoes in another. Gravy. And a berry salad.
“You don’t mess around,” Berta told him in awe. “I literally slap some peanut butter between some bread and head to school.”
I nodded. “I’m lucky if I remember to do that.”
Louis seemed disturbed by this concept. “Why don’t we share? I don’t mind sharing. I have plenty. Here.”
“No, no,” Berta said, holding up a hand. “I was simply remarking on the array.”
“Margaret?” he asked, holding up his now gravy-drenched roast beef. He’d always been such a kindhearted person.
“I’m good.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
“That’s quite a spread you have there,” Courtney said, setting her tray next to mine. I looked up and met bright blue eyes, surprised to see her. My pulse seemed to beat a little faster and I felt this upshot in energy. I really needed to grab control of this little crush. And yes, I could admit that that was what this was.
Louis shrugged, now looking embarrassed. He shifted to an impressive shade of red to match his hair, and I understood that I wasn’t the only one Courtney had an effect on. “My mom is—”
“A saint,” Courtney finished, gesturing to the food. “Look at the culinary showmanship. Mine’s probably still in bed.” I sent her a questioning glance, but she waved it off. “So here’s the thing. Are you listening?”
I nodded. “I am.”
“I was talking with Melanie and Lila Jane in second period, and there’s a group heading to Santa Barbara this weekend for a beach party. Melanie’s parents have rented a house and we can stay the night.”
“That’s awesome,” I said blandly, and investigated the contents of the less-than-happy enchilada on my tray.
“And we’re going.”
My gaze snapped to hers. “We? No, no, no.”
“Yes. You and Berta are coming with me.”
Louis, having been left out of that invitation, looked up feebly, and my heart squeezed for him. If Berta and I fell on the boring list, then Louis could best be described as living on the untouchable one. I turned to her. “I’m not sure we’re up for it, Courtney.”
“We’re not,” Berta said more emphatically.
She nodded. “I was expecting that. You don’t like those guys and don’t make much secret about it.”
I balked. “That’s not true.” Totally true.
“All I’m asking is that you suspend your judgment and come have fun with us. Keep an open mind, and you might actually find that they’re not as bad as you think. Louis should come too,” she said, passing him a smile. That scored her big points in my book.
He was instantly red again. “Oh, thank you for the invitation, but my parents are taking me fishing.”
“Next time, then,” Courtney told him and then turned to me. “Tell me why you don’t want to go.”
“They don’t want us there,” I told her. “Trust me.”
“I’ve already informed Melanie that I’m bringing you both, and she was ‘no big deal’ about it. The house is huge and has plenty of room. Everyone’s just going to sleep on the floor. Say yes, so I can stop begging.”
I held up a finger. “Let the record reflect that there has been no begging.”
She turned to me and showcased her big blue puppy-dog eyes of unfairness, blinking back at me sadly. Like there was any possible scenario where I could resist that kind of setup. I sighed loudly. “Okay. I’ll go. Fine. You’ve twisted my arm via your pathetic facial work. But I won’t have a good time.”
“I’m sure you’ll hate every minute of it,” Courtney said and dusted off her hands in victory. She turned to Berta. “Well?”
Berta shook her head. “I think I’m gonna pass. But thanks.”
Well, that was that. I smiled at Courtney. “When do we leave?”
She took a moment, studying me before grinning back. “I’ll pick you up at the farm after school on Friday. We can be at the beach in forty-five minutes.”
Berta raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged back. It made sense that she’d wonder what the hell I was thinking, as I generally avoided Melanie and her clan at every turn. But Courtney had a point. Maybe I hadn’t given Melanie a chance. Maybe she was a decent person after all. And it was possible that Travis was just being a teenage boy. Or maybe I just wanted all of these things to be true for Courtney’s sake. One thing was for sure, Courtney had me reaching outside my comfort zone.
And it was terrifying.
*
“Looking for a ride?” Courtney asked from the driver’s seat of a blue Mercedes convertible. Wow. I stood in my circular drive that Friday afternoon, clutching my duffel bag and pillow in awe of the car she’d just pulled up in.
“This is yours?” I asked, circling it in reverence. I was promised a car when I turned eighteen, but even then it would be a used model. This was…an impressive piece of machinery.
Courtney flipped her sunglasses onto her head. “All mine. My parents’ strategy of not having to do much in the way of kid maintenance, I suspect.” I whistled low, still taking in the car. “Don’t just stand there drooling. Hop in.”
Before I could, the door to the house opened and my mother raced toward us waving. “Hi, Courtney!”
Courtney beamed back from the car. “Hi, Mrs. Beringer. How’s the writing today?”
“Jeffrey is brooding again and racing his motorcycle all over town. Chastity can’t take her eyes off him.”
“Isn’t that always the case? The quiet ones pull you in.”
My mother nodded quite seriously. “You’re a wise one, young lady.”
“Are we all set?” I asked, ready to flee the scene and this awkward conversation as fast as possible. Unfortunately, my mother wasn’t quite ready to say good-bye.
“So I’ve spoken to Melanie’s mother, who assured me she will be in attendance at the beach house all night.”
I nodded. “I already told you that.”
She ignored me. “Courtney, do you have a valid driver’s license?”
“Yes, ma’am. Would you like to see it? I could—”
“Mom,” I said, trying to intervene. Nothing.
“Any speeding tickets?”
Courtney shook her head. “Not one.”
“Good.” My mother turned to me and took my face in her hands as if I were still four. Mortifying. “You’ll call when you all arrive in Santa Barbara? The minute you arrive?”
>
“I will.”
“Please remember that you’re representing your father and me, not to mention the Beringer name.”
“Of course. May I go?”
She kissed my cheek and offered me a squeeze. “You girls be careful and—”
“Call you,” I finished.
My mother blew a kiss. “Call me.”
I climbed into the car. With a final wave to my very nervous-looking parent, we were off.
“She’s adorable,” Courtney said, and flipped on the music. Loud.
I laughed internally at the characterization. I would have gone with overbearing. “The cutest,” I said instead over the music.
“Ready for a little fun in the sun?”
Despite my trepidation, I was prepared to give this whole thing a shot. “Why not?”
“Now, that’s what I want to hear.”
We wound our way to the front of the farm, passing the green plants that still held the odd strawberry not yet harvested. The sun beat down from half-mast in the dazzling blue sky. It really was the perfect day for a drive, and the warmer temperature would hold on for another hour and a half at least. I looked over at Courtney. Her blond hair was down and blowing in the breeze. It carried a subtle curl that I decided was most likely Courtney-made. Black Chanel sunglasses rested on her face, and she sang quietly with the song on the radio. It was an image I could stare at all day.
“Sing with me,” she said, as we hit the highway, gaining speed.
“As much as I would like to, I’m afraid I don’t know this one.”
“What?” She gaped at me. “How is that possible? It’s the most overplayed song of the year.”
“About that? Yeah, I have a confession to make. It’s pretty shocking, so brace yourself.”
She glanced over at me, dipping the sunglasses. “Okay. Try me.”
“I rarely listen to current music.”
“No!” she said in mock horror. “Get out of my car!” Then softening, “Okay, so what do you listen to? And if you name a boy band I might actually drop you at the next rest stop.”
“Hopefully, we won’t pass any for a while.” I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and gestured to her radio. “May I?”
Strawberry Summer Page 5
