The Inn at Summer Island

by Rachel Magee

  Millie returned with the shampoo and squirted a line along the paint stripe. “Same. Since I’ve started full-time home improvements, I’m starving by the end of every day. Now I know why Gus always has a jar of peanuts with him.”

  “Would you like to come over for dinner? I have a freezer full of gourmet meals Lena left me before she went on vacation.” He rubbed his head, looking a little unsure of himself for the first time since she’d met him. “You know, nothing fancy. I can throw one in the oven and you could come over after you get cleaned up or dried off or whatever.”

  Wait? Had Braxton just asked her out? Suddenly, her wet clothes weren’t the only thing making her cold. Icy apprehension pricked her chest. “Oh, umm…” She pretended to focus on lathering the shampoo in her dog’s thick fur as a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. Dinner? With Braxton?

  Sure, today had been a lot of fun, but it just sort of happened. It didn’t mean anything. Dinner was different.

  “Nothing formal,” Braxton said, stepping forward with the hose to rinse off Bear. “Food that’s already prepared. Maybe even served on paper plates.”

  “Right, no. It’s just that…” She let her words trail off again, because what was it? Dinner—at his house, no less—felt personal. It felt like the kind of thing that could lead to something more. Something she promised herself she wasn’t getting involved in, especially with someone like Braxton Channing.

  “I have a lot I need to work on tonight.”

  The excuse was sort of true. Seascape was a lot to work on all the time. The list of projects that still needed to be done before the open house in just over two weeks seemed never-ending. And once she finally checked every single one of them off, it would be time to start phase two. If Braxton and his board decided to approve her appeal.

  But the overwhelming list of projects and the looming deadline weren’t the only reasons she was passing on Braxton’s dinner invitation. The truth was, she found herself looking over at his house more often than she should, and the way her heart fluttered when he flashed one of those charming grins made her nervous.

  She didn’t have a great track record when it came to relationships. In the past, she’d let one relationship after the other derail her dreams, realizing too late that the only person doing any sort of sacrificing was her. She wasn’t about to do it again. Not this time.

  A hint of disappointment flickered across Braxton’s face but he quickly replaced it with his easy grin and a nonchalant shrug. “Sure. No big deal.”

  They gave Bear one final rinse, then she released the dog so he could shake off the excess water. Braxton turned away, busying himself with winding up the hose. Millie replaced the lid on the paint bucket, still considering his invitation. Turning him down was the right thing to do, she was sure of it. Yes, she enjoyed his company and appreciated his help, but anything more would complicate things too much.

  She was being smart. So, why did a tinge of regret nudge at her?

  Annoyed, she pushed the feelings away and focused on the task, which was moving the almost full five-gallon paint bucket to the part of the covered porch where she was storing the painting supplies overnight. She squatted slightly and, using both hands, hefted up the bucket. It wasn’t that it was too heavy for her to carry, but combined with the awkward size, she had to sort of waddle to move across the yard.

  “Here, let me help you.” Braxton jogged over and grabbed one side of the handle, instantly making the load lighter. She dropped one hand and they walked side by side the rest of the way to the porch.

  They set the bucket down on the drop cloth she’d spread out earlier to protect the patio, and Millie propped her hands on her hips to catch her breath.

  Braxton was tying the top of the trash bag he’d been filling before he stopped to help her. Beyond him, the sight of the freshly painted walls caught her eye.

  “Thanks for all your help the past two days.” She hoped the sincerity in her voice portrayed the magnitude behind those simple words. “I really appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure.” He lifted the trash bag. “Would you like for me to throw this in the dumpster on my way out?”

  “Since you spent your afternoon helping me, the least I can do is walk you out.” She reached down and scooped up the pile of oversize garbage items waiting to be taken to the dumpster. “But I’m not going to pass up the opportunity of having someone make a trash run. If you carry the bag, I can carry all of this.”

  They walked around the long side of the house toward the front yard, both carrying armfuls of trash. “The biggest surprise about this whole renovation process is the amount of garbage it has produced. I’m doing my best to recycle what I can, but there never seems to be an end to the stuff going in the dumpster.”

  Braxton nodded. “I remember that feeling. But it gets better.”

  “That’s what you keep saying.” They reached the dumpster and she tossed her things over the top, then turned to examine the front of her house. “I think I’ll have to see it before I believe it.”

  “From what I see, it’s already looking a lot better.” He grinned. “In fact, you’ll have to give me the name of your painter.”

  Millie shrugged, knocking back the unwelcome but ever-present fluttery feeling. “I’m not sure you can afford him.”

  Braxton chuckled. “I really enjoyed today.” His eyes met hers with an expression that sizzled through her.

  “Me, too,” she said, which was the truth. “Thanks for everything.”

  She watched him pause in front of his gate to pull his phone from his pocket. He hit a few buttons, then waited while the giant wrought-iron structure swung open. He threw one last glance back in her direction, held his hand up in a wave, then disappeared onto his property.

  Millie turned back to her own house. As she paused on her front porch to dry off Bear with one of the towels she left by the door, she tried her best not to let thoughts of Braxton distract her. She had dozens of other things she needed to be thinking about. There were reno decisions she had to make. Those new cabinet pulls weren’t going to pick themselves out. Plus, she needed to start considering an advertising and marketing campaign for once she was able to officially open.

  And of course there was the more pressing issue of what she was going to eat since she declined Braxton’s dinner invitation. Satisfied that Bear was as dry as she could get him with a towel, she strolled through her house into her outdated kitchen. She washed her hands then pulled open the freezer to examine her dinner options, confident she’d made the right decision.

  The only problem was that he seemed to occupy the valuable real estate at the front of her mind. And her mood must be transmitting somehow, because suddenly Bear was at her side, nudging her knee. Or maybe it was the prospect of food.

  “It’s nothing, Bear. I’m just processing the events of the day, which is totally normal.” She popped an unappetizing frozen dinner into the microwave and studied the nutrition information on the package to distract herself from thinking about what sort of gourmet meal Braxton was heating up. Or the conversation they might have had if she’d taken him up on his offer.

  But when a comprehensive examination of the entire box only took thirty seconds into her four-minute wait time, she decided she needed another activity to occupy her mind.

  “How about we get out of these wet clothes.” She tugged on the damp shirt, actively trying to avoid thinking about how she got wet. “We’ve got more work to do tonight.”

  Sure, she’d had fun hanging out with Braxton and painting all afternoon. And she probably would’ve had fun if she’d joined him for dinner. But fun wasn’t the point. The point was that she had other things she had to do. Important things. And she wasn’t going to sacrifice them for some other person’s important things.

  She made her way through the empty rooms to her private suite on the other side of the house<
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  “After dinner, what do you say we get a jump start on cleaning the tile floors in the guest rooms? If we knock that out today, we can reseal them tomorrow.” She scratched Bear behind his ears before she peeled off her damp clothes and hung them over the bathtub. “See how productive we can be when we stay focused?”

  The stack of clean T-shirts in her closet was dwindling down to almost gone and there was only one pair of shorts left. It looked like a load of laundry needed to be added to her to-do list.

  With her dry clothes on, she grabbed a laundry basket and started filling it. On her way to the laundry room, she paused in her room to collect any stray clothes that hadn’t made it into the hamper in her closet when the stack of love letters sitting on her bedside table caught her eye.

  There were still two left. Two neatly folded sheets of stationery were all that stood between her and the end of the love story. She paused and ran her finger over the satin ribbon that held them together. What could’ve happened that made it end? Mr. C was clearly smitten with Mildred and from the way he talked in the letters, that love was reciprocated.

  Millie was dying to know what happened to end the romance that, according to the dates on the top, had spanned from at least February to April the following year, and at the same time, she wasn’t ready for their love story to be over.

  “What if we just read one of them,” she said to Bear. The dog wagged his tail, which she took as a sign he supported her plan.

  She slid the second-to-last envelope from the pile and a familiar warmth surged through her. She loved these letters. Just the thought of reading them made her feel less lonely. It made the house seem less empty. Imagining her great-aunt here, with the man she loved and a house full of guests and, well, furniture, even made her footsteps seem less echoey.

  She dropped the letter on the kitchen counter while she started the load of laundry. When she returned to the kitchen, she pulled her flavorless-yet-convenient frozen dinner from the microwave and, sinking down onto the barstool, took the letter out of the envelope.

  “And now, Bear, for your dining entertainment, the latest edition of Aunt Mildred’s romance.”

  She took her first bite of rubbery chicken and started reading.

  My darling Mildred,

  I imagine sunsets along this particular stretch of beach have always been inspiring. But they are never quite as lovely as when I am enjoying them with you.

  Tonight’s sunset was perhaps one of the most stunning I have ever seen. The brilliant pinks and lavenders in the sky reflected in the oceans, turning even the deepest blue at the horizon a rosy shade of pink. After living here most of my life, I’ve never seen anything quite like it. But what made it most special, my love, was that I got to experience it with you.

  It is true that the sun would have set whether or not you were with me on the beach tonight. The rhythm of life continues from one setting of the sun to the next as the world slowly spins in its predictable pattern. Daily tasks, however mundane, are required and completed and checked on a list. However, I am considered one of the lucky ones for even my most mundane task sparkles when I have you to share it with.

  But every once in a while, something astonishing happens. We get a break from the mundane and the opportunity to gaze upon sheer perfection. From here on out one thing that can never be taken away from me is that I once experienced the most amazing sunset imaginable, and it was even more special because I got to share it with you.

  Always,

  Millie laid the letter on the counter and closed her eyes, letting the words echo in her mind.

  “That was the most romantic one yet.” She opened her eyes and combed over the words again, letting the love resonate off the page. “‘Even my most mundane task sparkles when I have you to share it with.’ Isn’t that beautiful?” She forked a few limp green beans into her mouth and chewed.

  Maybe the relationship didn’t work out, but at this moment, she envied her Aunt Mildred. Sure, Millie had had boyfriends before. She might even go so far as to say she’d been in love before. But not one of her past love interests had adored her the way this man adored Aunt Mildred.

  She looked down at Bear. “What would it feel like to have someone like that in our lives?”

  Her dog cocked his furry eyebrows.

  “What? Don’t give me that questioning look. We’ve never had that. Especially not with…” She let her voice trail off, not even wanting to speak the name of her most recent failed relationship. Her gaze drifted out the small window over the kitchen sink as she considered all the ways that particular relationship had been doomed from day one.

  And that’s when her eyes caught sight of Braxton’s house.

  The sight of his house and the thought of his deep laugh filled her with a bright, bubbly feeling.

  Wait—a light, bubbly feeling while eating a more than mundane freezer dinner, echoes of laughter while completing her most dreaded project… Could it be that she…?

  She let that thought trail off, too, because it was ridiculous. They were barely at the point of being friends.

  Bear continued to stare at her with those cocked eyebrows and a judging look.

  Millie looked away to try to avoid him and kept eating her dinner. “It’s nothing. Just two friends who had a little fun while painting a house. I don’t even know why I’m letting a dog make me rethink it.” She glanced back at Bear’s sweet face. “No offense.”

  Bear let out a loud sigh and flopped down on the floor next to her feet, as if to acknowledge that neither one of them was buying the nonsense she was spewing. Whether or not she was willing to admit it out loud, Braxton had made her mundane tasks sparkle. And what made it even worse was that even her dog seemed to know it.

  She let out her own long sigh and picked up her phone, well aware that she was arguing with a dog. “Fine. I’ll ask him if he wants to come help paint tomorrow. But don’t be surprised if he says no. It’s not like he’s writing us love letters.”

  She typed the message and hit send before she could rethink her decision, then plonked her phone facedown on the tile counter with a loud thud.

  “There. Done. Happy now?” She wasn’t sure if she was asking Bear or herself, but she rolled her eyes for good measure and stuffed another oversalted-yet-bland bite of her dinner into her mouth. She hadn’t even finished chewing when her phone dinged to alert a new message.

  She paused mid-chew and stared at the turquoise phone case in front of her. Surely, that wasn’t from him, was it?

  Slowly, she lifted it up and turned it over to look at the screen.

  I’d love to. See you at 3?

  He’d love to?

  She quickly liked his reply and flipped the phone back over, promising herself that she wouldn’t read more into it than there was. Still, she couldn’t stop one corner of her mouth pulling up into a grin.

  “He’s just being nice and he’s trying to keep his mind off his daughter being away. There’s nothing to get excited about,” she told Bear. But it didn’t matter what she said. Braxton Channing said he’d love to come help her with the mundane task of painting her house, and at the moment, everything around her seemed to sparkle.

  …

  On day four of living the single life, Braxton was starting to feel in rhythm.

  In the morning, he took care of all his realtor duties. After a quick lunch, he’d go to Summer Island Memory Care Home for his daily game of chess with Henry. And by three o’clock, he’d be at Millie’s house, ready to help her with whatever project was on deck. And, although it’d taken some convincing, they now topped off the evening with a late dinner on his patio, compliments of whatever Lena had left in his freezer.

  Braxton wondered what kind of project he’d be helping Millie with later today as he pressed the buzzer at Summer Island Memory Care Home just after noon. While he fiercely missed hearing Alic
e’s sweet giggles and footsteps around his house, this week was turning out to be not so bad.

  “Hello, Mr. Channing. Come on in.” The voice rang through as the electronic buzz signaled the door opening.

  As usual, Veronica was waiting for him on the other side of the second set of doors. “You’re early today.”

  “I had some extra time, so I thought I’d spend it here. Is he finished with lunch?”

  “He finished a while ago, and I’m not sure where he’s gone off to now. He normally wanders around the gardens until the alarm on his phone tells him to meet you in the parlor.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll wait over there until he’s ready.”

  “Are you kidding? Seeing you is the highlight of his day. He’ll be thrilled you showed up early. Let me go see if I can find him.” Veronica patted his hand and then scurried off in the direction of the door that led to the courtyard garden.

  Braxton headed over to their usual table, thinking through the rest of his day. Since he and Millie finished painting the exterior of her house last night, she’d mentioned maybe they could get started on the landscaping today. It’d been a while since he’d spent much time digging in the dirt. Maybe when Alice came home he should plant something with her. Tomatoes or herbs or something else that could grow in pots, maybe. It would be good for her to watch something grow.

  While he thought through the prospects, he squared up and gripped a pretend golf club as if he was getting ready to hit a pretend golf ball in front of him. His thoughts drifted back to Millie. Maybe she’d like to come over and help him and Alice plant their new garden. Alice seemed to like her, and it would be good for her to have positive female role models in her life.

  He swung his pretend golf club in a practice swing. His lower back was stiff, but what bothered him the most was the way his right shoulder dipped. That particular faulty form had plagued him his whole life. He’d spent hours at the driving range working on breaking the bad habit. As if on autopilot, he quickly reset and swung again, paying close attention to his shoulder.