Small Town Hearts

by Lillie Vale

  “I’m almost out of food, so I asked my dad to send one of my brothers over to take over my table while I cook, but—” Lorcan’s lips flattened into a thin line. “Yeah, didn’t happen.”

  “Are they seriously still pissed you didn’t want to work at the pub anymore?” I asked.

  “I told them I’d help out in the winter, but you know Dad. He saw me doing my own thing as disloyalty,” Lorcan scoffed, and wiped his sweaty brow with a napkin. “Well, that’s the last of the shrimp and catfish.”

  “What if I helped you?” Lucy suggested. She seemed to have forgotten how tired she was.

  “I can’t ask you to do that,” said Lorcan. He ducked his head. “Enjoy the fish fry.”

  Lucy fell silent while Lorcan helped a middle-aged couple. She made change while he handed them their shopping bag.

  “Thanks, have a great time,” said Lorcan.

  “Lorc, you’re running low on a lot of things,” said Lucy, eyeing the table. “The corn and potatoes are over, and you only have a couple of crab legs left. They were really popular. If you have time to make more, you should. Plus they’ll be fresh and hot, so the smell should get you more customers. I can man your stall while you head back to cook.”

  Lorcan bit his lip.

  “We can help,” said Levi, glancing at me. “Right?”

  “Definitely,” I said, heart happily constricting at his offer.

  “No need for that, Levi. We’ll help Lucy look after Lorcan’s table while he skedaddles on back to his crab shack,” Tom said firmly. “Three of us between two tables will be no trouble.”

  “There, it’s settled,” said Lucy, squeezing Lorcan’s arm.

  Lorcan thanked everyone before dashing away to cook. “We can stay if you want,” I whispered to Lucy as we watched him weave through the crowd.

  “No, you two go ahead and enjoy the rest of the fish fry.” Lucy smiled. “I think we’ve got things handled here.”

  “Let me get some more water from inside,” I said. The sun was beating down relentlessly and the top of Ralph’s bald head was already sunburned. “And maybe a couple umbrella stands, too. They still in the storeroom?”

  “Yup,” said Tom.

  “I’ll go with you,” said Levi. He paused when he passed Ralph, touching his shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Curious, I caught Levi’s eye, but he smiled brightly and didn’t give anything else away.

  We headed into the dark chill of the storeroom. I flicked on the switch, and unflattering fluorescent lighting flooded the room with an unforgiving luminosity. I reached up and pulled my hair from its messy bun, letting the damp strands fall around my ears. Sweeping my hair over one shoulder to let my neck cool, I scanned the room for the white umbrellas.

  Levi moved behind me. A moment later, his hands settled on my waist.

  “Trying to get me alone?” I teased.

  “Look,” he said, resting his chin on my shoulder.

  I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just boxes, boxes, and more boxes. “I’m not following, Levi.”

  “Next to the shelves. Wrapped in brown paper.” Levi dipped his head in a go on gesture.

  I looked. A two-foot-tall, narrow object was wedged between the wall and the shelf. After a questioning look over my shoulder at Levi, I moved forward and pulled the object free. At once, I could feel it was a frame. “A painting?” My eyes widened. At his nod, I asked, “When did you put it here?”

  He grinned. “I snuck it in when I was helping out earlier.”

  “I didn’t even notice,” I said. I split the brown paper with the sharp edge of my nail, revealing my secret superpower of being an excellent paper ripper.

  It wasn’t the same painting he’d been working on at the lighthouse. This one was smaller and the colors were a little brighter, and instead of the entire town of Oar’s Rest, Busy’s took front and center. The frame was simple wood, the corners edged in shiny metal. I held it at arm’s length to take it all in. While most of the other businesses and homes were too small to be recognizable, I made out Dan’s Bike Shop, the book I’d buried in the sand, the B&Bs and crab shacks and even the hint of a little red dot in the top corner that looked like my lighthouse.

  Levi hadn’t just painted a picture. He’d painted home. My home. Tears grew in my eyes and I laughed, mostly because if I didn’t, then I was bound to cry. “This is perfect,” I said.

  “I was hoping you’d love it. It’s a gift for you.”

  “This is … I don’t even have the words, Levi. Thank you.”

  “Don’t go selling it or anything.”

  I gawked at him. “I wouldn’t!”

  He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me, grunting when the simple act became infinitely more cumbersome thanks to the painting in my arms. “I was teasing. But you never know, I could be worth a fortune one day.”

  “You’re worth a fortune to me now.” I hugged the painting to my chest. “I think I’d like to hang it up here for a while. So everyone can enjoy it. Can we go hang it?”

  He agreed readily, and we found a spot on the wall where I could always see it when I was at the counter.

  “It’s perfect,” I said, stepping away, satisfied with the tilt of the frame. “I love it.”

  Turning to Levi, I looped my arms around his neck and met his lips. We held them together for a few seconds before I took the lead. Our kiss was fast and slow, chaste and passionate. Every kiss with him felt like the first time.

  Our tongues hungrily said hello, exploring each other with languid, unhurried curiosity. I felt each of his inhales and exhales against my skin, and I matched mine to his until even our breath thrust in and out in synchrony. His hand cupped my cheek and I melted against him. I pressed my lips to his wrist, satisfied on a primal level to hear his sharp, undone inhale.

  His thumb gently rubbed against my lower lip. I knew it was swollen and red from his kiss, and I knew he knew it, too, judging by the way his eyes clouded with desire, growing a darker, indigo blue.

  “We should join them,” said Levi, his breath a little ragged. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my palm.

  “You go ahead,” I said. “I just need to go to the restroom first.”

  When I came out a few minutes later, my eyes landed on his painting of Busy’s. Warmth bloomed in my chest. Even when Levi left, a piece of him would still be here. A pleasant shiver went down my spine. A second later, the warm, cocooned feeling of being in like was blotted out with a splash of ice water.

  Because Penny was standing in the doorway, mouth pulled into a sullen frown, while Mrs. Wang waved from behind her.

  “Babe!” Mrs. Wang bustled into the coffee shop, quickly enveloping me in a hug that smelled like honeysuckle and sunshine. “You look like a tomato, sweetie,” she said with a cluck of her tongue, studying my face. “Are you drinking enough water? It’s so hot out there.” She fanned my face with the flyer she was holding.

  If I was flushed, it was entirely because of Levi, and nothing at all to do with the temperature. I felt my face warm even more when Mrs. Wang vigorously began to swish the flyer through the air. “I’m fine, really. Thank you.”

  “Mom,” said Penny. She still hadn’t come in. “Let’s get something to drink.”

  “We can get something here,” said Mrs. Wang. She pursed her rosebud mouth. “Penny tells me you didn’t want to do the Clamshell Queen pageant this year?”

  “Uh, I—” Stricken, I tore my eyes away from Mrs. Wang’s concerned face to look at Penny. She’d told her mom that it was my decision?

  “You girls have done it together every year, so I was surprised,” her mom continued. “Are you sure? I still have lots of fabric, so you could just drop by whenever you—”

  “Mom,” said Penny. “She doesn’t want to.” Her eyes cut to me. “And Babe’s working. We’re holding her up. Let’s go to the Dairy Bar for a milkshake.”

  “Why don’t you join us afterward?” suggested Mrs. Wa
ng.

  I wanted to say yes. I wanted, in that minute, to take Mrs. Wang up on her offer and ask her to help me sew a dress for the pageant. If I did, Penny would be forced to keep her mouth shut. She wouldn’t contradict me in front of her mom. This could be my in, my way back to everything I’d lost when I’d kissed Chad.

  But I couldn’t do it. I didn’t know this side of Penny, which meant I didn’t know what she would do next. What if she didn’t like me pulling a fast one on her and turned the tables? What if she called me on it, outed me to her mom right here and now? She could reveal the story, tell her mom what Chad and I had done. It wouldn’t matter that they’d been broken up, not to a mother. She’d take her daughter’s side, obviously. I didn’t want Mrs. Wang to look at me with disappointment. So I held my tongue.

  “Penny’s right,” I said. “It’s pretty busy and, um, Tom’s counting on me out there, so…”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Wang smiled. “The offer’s still open, though. Just drop in if you change your mind about the pageant.” She squeezed my shoulder before heading for the door.

  Penny shot me one last look before spinning on her heel and following her mom. She had lied. She’d pretended it was my idea not to join them this year. I felt numb all over, then icy hot, then nothing. Then I felt the grief rise through my belly and into my throat. It crested into a brilliant, agonizing sob of hurt and pain and every emotion in between. I didn’t feel nothing anymore. I felt everything.

  thirteen

  A few evenings later, Levi and I padded our way across the beach to the wreckage of our castle. Even from a distance, I could see that the towers and once-packed sand had crumbled in little chunks at the base. His face fell as we got closer.

  “We can’t even be sure that’s ours,” said Levi, sounding hopeful.

  “Oh, it’s ours all right,” I said dryly. “I remember because it still looks lopsided.”

  We stared at it, both a bit dejected, before I slapped my palms against the tops of my thighs. “Okay. Time to practice.”

  He wore a look of determination as he sank into the sand.

  I slid my sunglasses from my hair to my nose. “I know we built a sandcastle just for fun a few days ago, but I’m about to take you into the big leagues. You ready, Keller?”

  “It can’t be too different than sculpting, right?” There was a hopeful lilt at the end of his sentence.

  I grinned. “So … you haven’t made a real sandcastle before, I’m guessing.”

  He winced. “Nope. Sorry.”

  “Okay, no worries.” I pursed my lips. “I can walk you through the basics.”

  I’d selected a spot close enough to the water so we didn’t have to keep refilling our five-gallon bucket. Tools lay scattered in front of me, and I lifted each one up to explain its purpose. The spade was for scooping and packing, and the smaller buckets and yogurt containers were for towers. An old funnel made for a pretty good roof, a trick I’d picked up from Chad, and a few other kitchen and home improvement tools would finesse our creation into a professional sandcastle.

  We used the spades to scoop a big mound of sand in front of us, building it higher and higher into a bowl shape. The sand was already a little wet, but I tilted the big bucket and poured more water on it. “Now we tamp it down with our feet so we get an even foundation to build on,” I said. While I bounded over our workspace, Levi was more self-conscious, patting the sand gingerly with his bare feet.

  “Not like that,” I said, fighting back a grin. Taking his hands in mine, I drummed my feet into the sand, flattening it even further. “Come on, put your heart into it.” It took a few tries, but he finally got it, stomping with abandon. Once that was done, we had a four-by-four plot of sand that was ready to build on.

  “Here, take this.” I pressed a bucket into his hands. “Fill it almost to the top with sand, pour water in, and pack it down.” I watched as he followed my directions, packing the sand as tight as he could.

  “Now what?”

  “Flip it.”

  Immediately, Levi began to pull the bucket off.

  “Wait!” I exclaimed.

  His forehead scrunched. “Why?” he asked, sounding adorably puzzled. A lock of hair fell into his eyes.

  “Use your hands to tap the sides and remove any excess air. It’ll come out smoother.”

  With his open palm, he slapped the bucket on all sides until he determined it was ready to lift. “I’m nervous about getting this right,” he said with a laugh.

  I reached for his hand. “Don’t be.”

  He gave me a squeeze. “Building a sandcastle for the first time makes me feel like a kid again.” His eyes skimmed the beach.

  I followed his gaze. The other teams that had claimed their spots were already working on elaborate towers and turrets, their castles twice the size of ours. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get you caught up in no time.” With an encouraging smile, I nodded to his bucket. “Go ahead and lift it up.”

  Grasping the sides, Levi began to slowly pull it upward.

  “Gently,” I coaxed.

  The bucket came off, but an area where the sand hadn’t totally been tamped down crumbled immediately.

  “Try it again,” I said. “Try adding a little more water this time.”

  Once he mastered that, I showed him how to repeat the process with the funnel roof. The good thing about building sandcastles was that once you knew the basics, there were so many different ways you could apply the same knowledge to get different results. Once we had a few different towers going, I showed him how to roughly shape a wall with our hands, using a spackle knife to get the edges sharp and neat. Once the wall was level, we used the knife to create little cuts at the top to resemble battlements.

  “It’s always way easier to cut away than to add more sand, so I like to kind of keep it a little messy when I’m building,” I explained. “It can always be tidied up at the end.”

  The peal of his cell phone made us both jump. With an apologetic smile, he reached into his pocket. “Just a second,” he said. “It’s my mom.”

  “No problem.” I waited for him to move away, but he didn’t. Weirdly, it felt good that he didn’t want privacy.

  “Hey, Mom.” He paused. “Yeah, I’m doing fine. Just out on the beach.” He shot me a helpless glance and mouthed Sorry. “Yeah, it’s going really well. You saw my photos, right?” Another pause. “Yeah, Dad would like it here. Did he see them, too?”

  He tilted his head to the side, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder. “I’m still sharing my art on Instagram, yeah. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve gotten a lot more engagement since—no, I’m not accusing you of stalking my account. I’m not trying to hide anything, Mom. Go! Look all you want. Everyone loves the new stuff I’m putting up.”

  I flashed him a thumbs-up.

  He made a sound of frustration. “I’m just saying that it’s not the career killer you and that hack agent thought it was.” He made a face at me. “Yeah, I have gotten a lot of interest. Some new commissions, too. Someone asked me if I could do her wedding invitations for her. She wants to get married right here in Oar’s Rest. She fell in love with the lighthouse.” He caught my eye and shot me a small smile.

  He spoke to his mom for another couple of minutes, assuring her he was eating well and that he was super happy here. By the time he hung up, his cheeks were a little pink. “Sorry,” he apologized again. “She hates that I’m so far away. She’s been calling me a lot since we made up. I think I’m wearing her down about everything, though. Maybe by the end of summer, she’ll actually let me do things my way.”

  “She gets why you had to leave?”

  Levi nodded. “Yeah. Dad does, too. He’s still pissed about the hole my pushpin left in his map, though.” A half smile curled his lips. “But that’s just how he is.”

  “You’re getting more commissions,” I said. “That’s really good.”

  “It’s different from what I’ve painted before. Th
ey were pretty, but a little generic. Since coming here, I feel like my style has evolved into something with more character.”

  I nodded. I could see the new nuance in his work, too. “Maine left its mark on you.”

  “Or you did,” he said lightly.

  My face warmed. I hoped that was true.

  “What now?” he asked, leaning forward to survey the rest of the tools. “Measuring spoons?” He lifted them out with a wry grin.

  “For decorations.” I pulled out some starfish and clamshell cookie cutters. “The sandcastles look really pretty when you decorate them with seaweed and shells.”

  “Could we try making something bigger?” he suggested, pointing to the nearest sandcastle.

  I grinned. “Let’s go for it.”

  This time, we piled up a ton of sand and then got to work shaving away the walls so we were left with a huge foundation about three feet tall. We added a keep in each of the four corners, slicing the rounded bucket walls so they became squares. Walls connected each keep, creating a perimeter for our project. Levi was exacting enough to cut out the battlements just right, while I focused my attention on creating ledges. Holding the knife at a downward angle, I cut into the keep, then dragged straight down. The sand neatly fell away.

  Levi paused in his work when I grabbed the melon baller. “What are you doing with that?” he asked curiously.

  “Watch.” I hovered the melon baller under the ledge until I had the angle just right, then scooped.

  “Whoa.” A grin spread over his face. “Lookout windows.”

  “Exactly.”

  He crouched forward to study the battlements. “That gives me a great idea. You think I could make arrow slits on these battlements?”

  “I don’t know if you could carve out something so skinny,” I admitted. “But you could try drawing them on with the knife and see if that works.”

  It did, although the detail was too fine to be easily noticeable. Still, Levi seemed proud to have attempted it.

  “We forgot the door,” he said, frowning. “I could try my hand at a really shitty drawbridge?”