What Happens in Summer

by Caridad Piñeiro

  “I’m not really sure. All I know is that anywhere is better than here.” She shot her hand up like a cop stopping traffic as the security guard moved to enter her office. “No need to call in the reinforcements. I’ve got nothing to take with me.”

  When she reached the door, she turned toward Bill and said, “If you need assistance on any of the cases I was handling during the next month, you know where to reach me. After that, I’ll send you a bill for services. Please copy me on the letters you send to the clients advising on the change of representation. We wouldn’t want anyone to be accused of ethical improprieties.” Namely Goodwyn, and she had no qualms about taking him before an ethics panel if he failed to do the right thing.

  Head held high, she stopped to wish her tearful assistant goodbye. On her way to the front door with Bill, the security guard trailing behind them, she was greeted by several other attorneys and a dozen or more staff members who wanted to wish her well. She said her goodbyes to each one, trying to hold back the tears building inside and the fear that she thought she had overcome when she had first made the decision to leave just days earlier. At the receptionist’s desk, Bill held his hand out, and she took the lanyard from around her neck and passed him her key card.

  “Have a nice life, Bill,” she said and exited into the elevator bank. Once inside, she took one deep breath after another, telling herself to hold it together until she got off the floor and down to the lobby. Instead of heading home, she walked through the underground connection to the Chrysler Building, where Maggie’s offices were located.

  A short elevator ride later, she was standing at the door of Maggie’s office. Her friend was on the phone but waved at her to come in, her gaze questioning. As she finished the call, she shot a quick look at her watch. “Half day?”

  “Last day,” Connie replied.

  Maggie came around and sat on the edge of the desk. “For real?” she asked.

  Connie told Maggie about what she had just done, and as she finished, she couldn’t stop and tacked on, “I’m pregnant.”

  “Wow.” Maggie shifted a chair so she could sit beside her and wrap an arm around her shoulders in sympathy. “Are you okay? Have you been to the doctor?”

  “Yes and yes, and before you ask, Jon doesn’t know. I haven’t told him yet because…” Her voice trailed off as she mentally considered the long list of reasons why she’d kept her silence, including that he had a whole lot of his own shit going on.

  Maggie patted her upper arm, offering comfort. “It’s okay, Con. Is that why you quit?”

  She shook her head. “There’s been a lot going on the last couple of months. I didn’t want to trouble you with it.”

  “Because I was so wrapped up in my own shit that I didn’t realize my best fuckin’ friend in the whole world needed me. I am so, so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, her throat tight with emotion. Feeling suddenly tired, she leaned her head against Maggie’s shoulder, and with a sniffle, she said, “It’s going to be okay.”

  “For sure. Why don’t we go to my house and get comfy? We can talk, get chip-faced with a pint of caramel waffle cone, order grandma pizza, and watch every season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

  “Except season seven. I hated season seven,” she said.

  Maggie laughed and hugged her hard. “Everyone hated season seven. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Jonathan sauntered around the living room in his father’s condo on Central Park East. The condo took up half of a city block and was high enough that the sounds of the street below were almost nonexistent. He walked to the windows along one wall and stared down at the expanse of Central Park that stretched west for a few avenues and nearly fifty blocks northward. The trees had started to lose their leaves, and some were already bare, leaving a patchwork design across the vast city forest.

  Prime real estate, his father would say about the condo that had once been home to their family. Now, only his father rattled around in the immense space that hadn’t changed all that much since when Jonathan was a child.

  He walked over to the dry bar in one corner and poured himself a whiskey. Crossed back over to the couch and took a seat where the old man was sure to see him as he walked in. The last thing he wanted to do was scare him to death since he wasn’t expected.

  Barely half an hour later, he heard the snick of the lock and the familiar squeak of the door as his father shuffled in and stopped dead as he noticed Jonathan sitting there.

  In that awkward moment of silence and staring, a thousand thoughts raced through Jonathan’s brain as he took in the sight of his father. Even though his dad was barely past sixty, his thinning hair and the wan hue of his skin made him look far older. He had once been a few inches over six foot, put now he hunched over so much that he had lost several inches in height. His clothing did little to help his appearance. His suit hung loose on him, and the dark color only made his skin seem that much more pale. Although Jonathan had come here to confront him, guilt took hold that his father might not be well enough for a battle.

  “Who let you in?” his father asked.

  Jonathan held up a key chain. “Owen lent me his emergency set of keys.” He tossed them onto the coffee table before him. They landed with a clatter against the polished mahogany.

  “You have no right to be here,” his father said, but he walked closer until he stood behind one of the wing chairs. He didn’t sit but held on to the top of the chair, as if needing support and maybe even a shield.

  Jonathan sipped the whiskey and then glanced at his father over the rim of the crystal glass. “And you had no right to keep Owen and me from our mother. From Thomas.”

  His father’s entire body shook, and his face grew even paler. He fumbled his way around the edge of the seat and then plopped down heavily into the chair. “You can’t even begin to understand.”

  “Really?” Jonathan challenged. “You didn’t love her. You were in love with Elizabeth Sinclair,” he said and waited for a denial that never came.

  He continued. “You thought Genevieve would be a bad influence.”

  His father finally reacted, beating one arm of the chair with his hand. “She was a dreamer. An artist. She was always filling your heads with nonsense. Especially you, Jonathan. I could see how much you were like her.”

  He couldn’t deny that he’d always been a dreamer, but if you didn’t have dreams, what did you have? Bitterness and anger like that which had ruined their father?

  At Jonathan’s hesitation, his father plowed on. “I did it to protect my sons. To make sure they grew up into strong, responsible men, and look at how you turned out. Look at you,” he almost shouted and beat on the arm of the chair again.

  “Yes, look at me, Father. A man who won’t commit to a relationship because he’s afraid he’s not good enough to be loved. A man who’s spent a good part of his life wondering how he could make his father proud,” he said.

  Before his eyes, his father seemed to shrink into himself, rousing Jonathan’s pity. But it wasn’t enough to cool the heat of anger that he now realized had been simmering at his core for so long. Like a volcano spewing lava to release pressure, he had to vent the frustration he’d felt for years.

  “All I ever wanted was to have your love and that of the mother who just upped and left one day. Knowing why she did so doesn’t make it any easier. Knowing I had a brother I never knew about…” He paused to suck in a ragged breath, and his father jumped in at the hesitation.

  “It was a mistake. Genevieve and I had already been fighting over the divorce settlement, and when Elizabeth died…” His father dragged in a shaky breath. “I needed something, someone, and Genevieve was there. For a moment, I thought we could reconcile, but it didn’t take long for me to feel the anger again. To realize I’d lost the only woman I ever really loved. When Thomas was born the way he was, I knew it
was God’s punishment for so many things. Coveting my friend’s wife. Being dishonest with Genevieve. But if anyone should have been punished, it should have been me and not an innocent child.”

  His guilt explained part of the reason why he had never hesitated to pay for everything Thomas needed. In his own twisted way, he’d cared, but he shouldn’t have used Thomas as a pawn in the divorce proceedings.

  “Have you ever even seen him, Father?”

  His father’s head bobbled up and down clumsily as if he was too weak or tired to move. “I go once a year, and I pray for his forgiveness.”

  That shocked Jonathan. He’d had no idea that his father had visited, and he wondered if his mother did either, since she hadn’t mentioned it. He wondered about something else as well.

  “What about our forgiveness, Father? You almost ruined Owen’s marriage, and he truly loves Maggie. She’s everything he could ever have wanted in a wife.”

  His father grew teary eyed. With a sniffle, he said, “Maggie is just like her mother. Owen is a lucky man.”

  “They’re getting married again on Saturday. You will be there this time. It’s time for you to start making things right,” he said.

  His father nodded, understanding that it wasn’t a request. “And what about you, Jonathan? Rumor has it you’re chasing after that Cuban girl again.”

  He was surprised his father knew, which meant that he might actually care, if only a little. “That Cuban girl is named Connie Reyes, and I love her. I asked her to marry me, but we both have a lot going on.”

  Jonathan took a big sip of his whiskey and waited for his father’s rebuke. One like he’d gotten years earlier when his father had gotten wind of who he was dating.

  “She’s a smart woman. Strong. She’d be good for you, so don’t let her get away,” his father said instead. At Jonathan’s questioning gaze, he explained. “She handled a lawsuit for us a few years back. Got us out of a nasty situation. And she’s a looker too. You’d make nice babies.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle at his father’s rather Neanderthal comment. “Yes, she is beautiful, but I’m not quite sure she’s ready to start making babies yet.”

  “Pfft, these career women. Waste the prime of their lives working,” his father harrumphed.

  Jonathan felt some of his anger slipping away at the easy camaraderie that seemed to be developing between them. Some, but not all.

  “I’m not sure Connie would appreciate that sentiment,” he said, feeling the change in the tone of their discussion and maybe even their relationship, although it would take time to heal the wounds of the past. “Can I get you drink?” he said and held up his glass.

  His father nodded, and Jonathan rose, walked over to the bar, and prepped another whiskey, taking the time to consider that the night was progressing far differently than he had envisioned. He returned and handed his father the drink. Sat back across from him on the couch.

  After taking a sip, his father asked, “What are your plans, Jonathan? Rumor has it you plan on opening another location in Sea Kiss.”

  He chuckled. “You seem to listen to a lot of gossip, Father.”

  A hint of a smile chased away years from his father’s face. “Owen can be a bit of a busybody.”

  Shaking his head, Jonathan told him his plans for the new research and development facilities and everything else. The coding classes for anyone who wanted to take them and the internships for the local students.

  His father sipped his whiskey and nodded. “That’s a sound building and a good location. I actually remember old man Scordato and his son before the company got bought out and they moved production down south.”

  “You’ve seen a lot of change in Sea Kiss,” Jonathan said.

  That prompted his father to regale him with stories of some of those changes and the tales he had heard from his father before him. As he finished one story, he said, “There’s even talk that the Pierces and Sinclairs were bootleggers. Made the money to build those homes running rum.”

  He’d heard the stories and that maybe even old man Scordato had helped them by building barrels. “Are they true?” he asked.

  His father shrugged. “The Pierce men have always been determined. Followed their own paths, just like you, Jonathan. I’ve been a fool not to see that you do the Pierce name proud.”

  He couldn’t have been more poleaxed if his father had actually hit him with a pole.

  At his silence and surprise, his father continued. “Sea Kiss needs men like you to keep it going. Taking your business there will be a big help to the entire area.”

  He nodded. “I hope so, but I need your help to do something else.”

  “I’ll try to help in any way I can. I owe you that much,” he said.

  With a pleased smile that his father seemed ready to start making things right, Jonathan said, “I don’t want to drift from place to place anymore. I need a home, Father.”

  Chapter 29

  A couple of months earlier, it had been hard for Connie to see Jonathan after so many years apart. This afternoon, as she stood across from him by the arbor that had been set up on the beach, waiting for Maggie and Owen to walk down the aisle together again, was possibly harder.

  He was ramrod straight, handsomely dressed in a bespoke suit that hugged his broad shoulders and lean hips. His sun-streaked hair was raked back into a man bun. His face was freshly shaven and with a hint of color that said he might have been out on the water earlier, surfing and getting sun on what was an unusually warm late autumn day.

  As the chamber music orchestra began to play the wedding march, she waited for the sight of Maggie and Owen coming over the boardwalk on the dunes before heading past the two dozen or so close family members and friends gathered for this second wedding. But as her friends came into view, she realized that besides Maggie’s dad, Owen’s father had also shown up for the ceremony.

  “Holy shit,” Emma whispered.

  “I second that,” Tracy murmured.

  Connie glanced across the way at Jonathan, but there was no surprise there. Just a pleased look on his face that said he might have known about his father’s attendance all along. As his gaze met hers, the confident look in his only confirmed her suspicion.

  She said nothing as Maggie, Owen, and the two dads walked down to the arbor near the water’s edge where the minister and bridal party waited. Given the unusual circumstances of having this second ceremony just months after the first, the minister’s message was more about staying committed to marriage than the usual wedding speech. It seemed that in no time, Maggie and Owen were renewing their vows and returning back up the beach for the cocktail party to thank friends and family for attending the ceremony.

  The two dads walked arm in arm behind the newlywed couple, earning raised eyebrows from several guests who were aware of the family feud that had been going on for over twenty years. Mustering her courage, Connie walked to the center of the aisle and took Jonathan’s arm, imagining how this might have been them if she’d accepted his wedding proposal weeks earlier.

  As she stumbled on the soft sand, he gently offered support. “You okay?” he said, his heavenly blue eyes filled with concern.

  She nodded. “More than okay.”

  He smiled and laid his hand over hers as it rested on his arm. Matched his steps to hers as they walked onto the boardwalk and across the great lawn. Since this was supposed to be a less formal gathering, there were only tall tables scattered here and there where guests could stand and have a cocktail or grab an hors d’oeuvre from a passing waiter.

  She intended to walk to a table and wait for Emma and Tracy to join her, but Jonathan apparently had other plans. He guided her to where Maggie and Owen stood with the fathers. She hugged her friends and Bryce Sinclair, who had always been kind and supportive. As she came to Robert Pierce, whom she’d met in the past when she’d done som
e work for his company, she stepped back. “Mr. Pierce,” she said with a curt nod.

  “Miss Reyes. It’s good to see you again. Jonathan has told me a lot about you.”

  She looked over her shoulder at Jonathan, who shot her a chagrined smile and shrugged.

  “All good, I assure you,” Robert tacked on.

  “So glad to hear that, and may I say it’s nice to see you here. I know how much this means to both Maggie and Owen.” Her words, while neutral, clearly struck home.

  “As long as there’s breath, it’s never too late to rectify a mistake,” Robert said.

  His admission surprised her, but she didn’t have time to respond as Jonathan said, “If you’ll excuse us, Connie and I were just going to get a drink.” With a less than subtle nudge against her back, he urged her in the direction of the bar and ordered them champagne.

  “A cranberry juice for me,” she corrected, earning a puzzled look from Jonathan.

  “On the wagon? You always were such a lightweight,” he teased.

  After the bartender handed them the drinks, Jonathan clinked his glass against hers. “To Maggie and Owen.”

  She repeated the toast and took a sip. She strolled away from the bar with Jonathan following beside her. Emma, Tracy, and her husband were standing and eating at a nearby table, and she joined them there, but Jonathan did as well. As a server came by with food, Jonathan swooped some off the tray and placed one of the dishes in front of her.

  “Thanks,” she said, a little unnerved by his attention, because she hadn’t quite decided the how and when of raising the issue of their future. But his attention said that the time spent apart hadn’t dimmed his desire to be with her, and she was grateful for that. It would only make what she had to say to him easier.

  Another hour passed, spent in mindless conversation with Jonathan and her friends and eating an amazing variety of hors d’oeuvres prepared by Carlo and his staff. Little by little, family and friends drifted off until it was just Maggie and Owen, the dads, Mrs. Patrick, and the group gathered around her table. Tracy and her husband excused themselves to go home while Emma claimed she had to run and give Carlo and his people final directions.