Summer Again

by Julia Gabriel

  She smoothed out her navy blue skirt. She had packed for a business conference, not a party. She’d paired the skirt with a pale yellow silk shell, but even that was hardly party-worthy. Oh well, she thought. Tomorrow it’s back home, back to normal life. Normal life was good. She missed Douglas and Gina. She missed the camp. The kids had an irrepressible energy that everyone involved with the camp fed off of.

  How could Sterling not see that? Not see how much good the Inn did with the Kids Kamp? You can’t put a price on that sort of thing. What was that old advertising campaign? A mind is a terrible thing to waste? Well, a life is a terrible thing to waste. Those kids deserved a chance to make something of their lives. It’s not their fault that they weren’t born with silver spoons—or entire place settings—in their mouths. It’s not their fault that their parents were uneducated or addicts or, like Lucy’s mom, a love-addled woman who chased after the wrong men year after year. Lucy had deserved a chance to make something of her life. Douglas and Derrick Jones had deserved that chance, too. John Matthew had given them that chance. And they’d made good on his bet, as lots of campers had. What had Sterling done with his life so far? Skiing, seducing his way across Europe, spending money. Considering all the opportunities he’d been born with, that wasn’t much.

  Lucy watched Sterling for several minutes more. Despite the women’s best efforts to get his attention, Sterling ignored them. Lucy chuckled inwardly. What on earth could he and Sreenivas be talking about that was more engrossing than attractive, available women who were all but stripping off their clothes and wildly waving their arms to get his attention?

  She strolled over to the buffet table to get a piece of birthday cake. A petite young woman with short dark hair and dark eyes was standing there, contemplating chocolate versus yellow cake. The cake had been baked half and half, and decorated with a pale yellow frosting. A pile of charred candles lay next to the plates.

  “Tough decision,” Lucy said.

  “Maybe I’ll just have both,” the woman said and plopped two slices onto her plate. She held out the cake server to Lucy.

  “That sounds like the right decision.” Lucy scooped up a slice of each, as well. “I’m Lucy Wyndham, by the way.”

  The other woman swallowed her first bite of cake. “Pleased to meet you. Cassandra Centeno. Are you a guest or a friend of the birthday boy?”

  Lucy laughed, covering her cake-filled mouth. “Technically, I’m an employee of the birthday boy.”

  “Oh, where do you work?”

  “I’m the marketing director at the Chesapeake Inn. It’s a small resort in—”

  “St. Caroline, Maryland.”

  Lucy quirked an eyebrow at Cassandra. “You know it?”

  “I attended their camp for kids when I was a teenager. Small world, eh?”

  “Really small world,” Lucy replied. “So did I.” Lucy could practically hear the gears turning in her own head. “What do you do out here?”

  “I’m a marketing assistant at the convention center. But I think I’m going to move back east soon.”

  “Closer to family?”

  The young woman nodded. “And my younger brother is starting his senior year of high school this fall. I want to be around to help him with his college applications.”

  “Do you have a card? I’ll be happy to keep my ears open for any opportunities.”

  “Oh gosh, that would be such a help,” Cassandra replied as she fished in her purse for a business card. “Here.”

  “Have you two ladies left me any cake?” Sterling was next to Lucy all of a sudden, eyeing what was left of his birthday refreshments.

  “Sterling. I’d like you to meet Cassandra Centeno. Cassandra was a camper at the Inn—how many years ago?”

  “Twelve,” Cassandra replied. “I was sixteen. I must say, your Inn’s camp changed my life. And introduced me to yoga, also, I might add.”

  “Really?” Sterling asked. “How so?

  “Well, there was a yoga teacher in St. Caroline who came to the camp every morning and taught us ten or fifteen minutes of yoga.”

  Sterling directed a questioning look in Lucy’s direction.

  Lucy nodded. “The camp used to do that. It helped the kids relax and acclimate to their new surroundings.”

  “Really? That was thoughtful of you all.”

  Lucy could hear the tightness in Sterling’s voice. Apparently, Cassandra heard it as well. She set down her half-eaten cake and excused herself to go speak to Sreenivas.

  “We could bring in Sreenivas to do a yoga retreat at the Inn,” Sterling said. His tone of voice said things were back to business now between them now. “I’m sure Elle and Edward would allow us to borrow him once in awhile.”

  “If he came in the summer, he could give a few lessons to the campers, too,” Lucy said, fully aware that she was entering the lion’s den here. “Just ten or fifteen minutes in the morning.”

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to borrow Sreenivas before the end of this summer,” Sterling said coolly. His face was impassive, his mouth set in a thin straight line. There was none of last night’s seductive softness or mischievous sense of humor.

  Lucy knew exactly what he was telling her. The camp was done. He had not changed his mind, despite her Plan B, despite their having made love twice. Before she slept with Sterling, she had wondered how she would feel if her Plan B didn’t work. Would she regret sleeping with him? Would she be embarrassed?

  Now she had her answer. No. Even though she knew she should regret it—she’d just slept with her boss on a business trip—she didn’t. But did Sterling? Lucy wasn’t sure.

  Chapter 16

  The plane was approaching cruising altitude and Sterling was regretting upgrading Lucy’s seat to first class. It had seemed like a good idea when he’d done it, before the surprise birthday party last night. After the three days they had just spent together, it had struck Sterling as awkward for him to fly home first class, while Lucy sat back in coach. So he upgraded her ticket.

  That didn’t seem like such a hot idea anymore.

  One, he was afraid she’d bring up the camp again. Elle’s seduction strategy had been a bust. Clearly, Lucy was not the kind of woman who could be romanced into changing her mind. That had been painfully evident at last night’s party. She’d shown no compunction about bringing up the camp again ... at his party, no less. And finding another camper at Elle and Edward’s B&B? They were coming out of the woodwork, it seemed, like zombies in some cheesy horror movie. Everywhere Sterling turned, another camper.

  No, Lucy had slept with him for the fun of it—and with no sense of obligation afterward. Imagine that, he thought ruefully. A woman whose approach to sex was the same as his had always been. Not that it hadn’t been fun for him. Oh, it most certainly had been. Too much fun, almost. Because now they were heading back to St. Caroline, teeny-tiny St. Caroline—a town much too small for him to get away with sleeping with an employee. Much as he might want to continue doing so. And he definitely did.

  Which brought him to reason number two for wishing Lucy was back in coach: she was too much of a damn distraction sitting this close. During takeoff, when she had been white-knuckling the armrests, it had taken all his willpower not to reach over and cover her soft hand with his. It had been impossible not to notice her taking slow, deep breaths to try and calm her fear. The curves of her breasts beneath her white sweater had risen and fallen with each inhale and exhale.

  Right now, the citrusy scent of the B&B’s organic shampoo was drifting over from her hair to his nostrils. He wanted nothing more than to just bury his face in her hair, thread his fingers through those soft waves, pull her face around to meet his ...

  He leaned back in his seat and closed his tired eyes. It would be lovely to just sit here on the flight and picture Lucy as he had seen her the other day in the sauna. Naked and daring him to kiss her, daring him to go further. But he was hurtling back toward reality, at hundreds of miles an hour. Actually, re
ality had found him out here even. At five o’clock this morning, his mother had called with the news that his father’s condition was deteriorating. Sterling wished his mother had told him earlier—months ago—about the gravity of his father’s illness. He would have come home sooner, contrary to popular opinion. He and his father did not have a close relationship, it was true, but John Matthew was still his father and Sterling would have come back to St. Caroline if his mother had asked.

  It would have made things at the Inn easier, too. Trying to fix things during the peak summer season wasn’t really possible. You need a certain amount of lead time to implement changes. Realistically, Sterling was looking at staying in St. Caroline at least until next summer. He’d be there over the winter, his absolute least favorite time in St. Caroline, when the skies were gray and bitter winds whipped in off the bay. Many of the restaurants and shops on Main Street closed for the season, too, making a sleepy little town even sleepier.

  His heart sunk in his chest. He had never wanted to run the Inn. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he was even up to the challenge. Sure, he’d spent his entire adolescence working for his father. Sure, he knew how the place ran, knew how every person who’d ever run every department had done things. He could rattle off bookings and profitability numbers forward and backward. But he was missing the most important part of the equation. His father had loved the Inn with all his heart. His big, open heart. Everyone who worked at the Inn seemed to love it that way, like it was their own business. It’s only me who can’t stand the place.

  He looked over at Lucy. She had reclined her seat and pulled the airline’s scratchy blanket over her arms and chest. Her eyes were closed but Sterling couldn’t tell whether she was asleep or not. What had possessed her to move to St. Caroline? It sounded like she’d had a good career going in Washington. Her marriage broke up, but Sterling couldn’t imagine that being enough to send someone fleeing to a tiny town where, frankly, there weren’t that many eligible men. Other than maybe that Douglas guy, the camp director. He wondered whether he and Lucy had ever hooked up. They seemed like more than just good friends. That evening at the Blue Crab Bistro, when he and Elle had been meeting with the bankers for the first time, he’d been certain Lucy and Douglas were dating. There had been an ease about them, an intimacy that looked closer than one would expect from two coworkers having drinks.

  Probably they had slept together, he decided. Lucy had fallen into his bed, after all, three times now—if you count that first time when they were teenagers. Douglas wasn’t a bad-looking man and he certainly didn’t have much competition in St. Caroline. There weren’t many options for Lucy in town either.

  He signaled the flight attendant standing at the front of the cabin and asked for a scotch. He needed a drink. Maybe it would help him sleep the rest of the flight and forget about the woman lying next to him.

  When Lucy stepped out of the gangway and into the bright flickering light of the terminal at Dulles International, her back and neck ached, her mouth was dry and fuzzy, and she didn’t even want to think about what her hair must look like. At least she didn’t feel as awful as she normally did after flying coach. First class had definitely been nicer, even if she had napped on and off for the entire flight.

  She hoisted her carry-on bag up onto her shoulder and jogged after Sterling, who was making his way toward the mobile shuttles at a brisk clip. They hadn’t said twenty words to each other since the plane took off in San Francisco. Sterling seemed distracted, as though he had a lot on his mind. He probably did, Lucy acknowledged. The thought flashed through her mind that he might have had news about John Matthew’s condition. Surely he would have mentioned that to her.

  She caught up to Sterling right at the entrance to the shuttle. Dozens of other travelers were filing stiffly through the narrow door, as well, pulling their rolling suitcases or tired children whose short legs couldn’t keep up with an airport’s pace. Inside, the shuttle was standing room only. She took a spot next to Sterling in the aisle and touched his arm gently.

  “Thanks again for the upgrade,” she said. “Though I may be spoiled for coach from here on out.” She directed a rueful grin his way, but Sterling’s face remained impassive.

  “Don’t mention it,” he said.

  It struck Lucy that he didn’t want her to mention anything else either, so she stood quietly as the shuttle lurched and jolted its way across the concrete to the main terminal. Lucy had always loved Eero Saarinen’s swooping, mid-century design of the main terminal but these shuttles could stand to be updated into the 21st century, she thought. It was worse than riding a subway. At the front of the shuttle, an infant began to wail. Lucy was glad to be almost home.

  She was a homebody at heart. She was glad to have seen San Francisco—or a little of it anyway. She hadn’t been as sad as she had expected to be. San Francisco had been one of the cities she’d always thought she’d visit with Josh. San Francisco. Paris. Barcelona. Cities one should visit with a lover.

  Oh well. It is what it is, she thought. Life throws you unexpected turns sometimes.

  The shuttle lurched to a stop at the main terminal. Automatically, the crowd of people inside began surging toward the door. Lucy let herself be pushed along, like riding a wave into shore. In the terminal, Sterling stopped at one of the television monitors hanging from the ceiling to see which baggage carousel their luggage was being routed to. Lucy followed ten feet behind him. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk to her. She didn’t understand why, given the past several days they had spent together, but she knew enough about men to know when to give them their space.

  At the long, oval baggage carousel, Lucy stood off to Sterling’s side. She would collect her bag, get on board the bus shuttle to long-term parking, pick up her car, and then start the drive home to St. Caroline. If traffic was decent, she’d be home in two hours. Of course, there was no guarantee of that in the Washington area. Traffic on a Sunday evening could look like Monday morning rush hour. She crossed her fingers that there wouldn’t be a Nationals game letting out soon.

  She glanced at Sterling out of the corner of her eye. He looked much like he did the evening she saw him at John and Sarah’s house. Was that really just a few weeks ago? Sterling was wearing creased and rumpled cargo shorts and a wrinkled linen shirt. His hair was a mess of waves, his jawline sported a dark five o’clock shadow. She watched as his body gave a quick little jerk, as though he’d dozed off there for an instant and then woke up. He reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out his cell phone. He pressed the button and began scrolling through messages.

  The baggage carousel stuttered to life and began spitting out a motley assortment of suitcases. Lucy watched the metal conveyer belt like a hawk, looking for her small black bag with its bright red luggage tag. Sterling’s bag came around the turn. Lucy looked over at Sterling, expecting him to stride over and pluck it off the carousel. Instead, he was still furiously scrolling on his phone.

  Then, just as quickly as he’d begun, he snapped the leather phone case closed. He strode over to the baggage carousel, picked up his suitcase, waited a few seconds for Lucy’s to come around and grabbed hers too. He walked over to her and dropped her bag, with a thud, onto the floor in front of her feet.

  “Do your expense report and submit your travel receipts to accounting tomorrow morning by 10 am. Then clean out your office.” Sterling turned on his heel to go.

  “Wait! You’re ... firing me?”

  Sterling turned halfway back to her, a look of pure disgust on his face. “Yes. Immediately.” Without another word, he turned again and walked away.

  Lucy looked down at her suitcase, sitting forlornly by her feet. She felt a sharp stabbing pain in her chest. The look on Sterling’s face ... he’d looked at her as if she had some contagious disease. She willed herself not to cry. Not here, not in the middle of a busy airport on a Sunday evening, with hundreds of people rushing past, with lovers, husbands and wives saying feverish goodbyes before busine
ss trips or trips back to school or home.

  What just happened? Lucy thought as she struggled to corral her emotions. Suddenly, it hit her. Derrick. Hadn’t he said that his article was going to run in Sunday’s Post? It seemed like years ago that she had spoken to him. So much had happened since then. Muir Woods, North Beach, the sauna.

  Lucy dragged her suitcase and carry-on over to a bench along the wall. She sat down and rooted around in her carry-on for her iPad. She powered it back up. Lucy was one of the few people who always turned her electronic devices off on planes. She was a stickler for rules that way.

  She squinted at the screen as she pulled up the Washington Post web site. She hurriedly looked for Derrick’s byline. Yup. There it was. “After 30 Years, It’s Lights Out for Chesapeake Inn’s Kids Kamp.” Great headline, she thought. She scrolled some more. “New CEO Sterling Matthew is ending the camp that has provided a summer respite for thousands of underprivileged teens over the past three decades ... The camp sits on prime waterfront property in the town of St. Caroline, an Eastern Shore summer haven for the rich and powerful of the mid-Atlantic ...”

  Lucy sucked in her breath. Derrick Jones had managed to talk to one of the bankers. “‘The Chesapeake Inn needs to make more profitable use of that land,’ James Toth said.”

  She read on. “Grammy Award-winning singer Simone Adkins is staging a fundraising concert in St. Caroline on July 23 to raise money to save the camp. Opening for Adkins will be The Hiptones, who are interrupting their summer tour to participate ... Janice Wilson, CEO of the Back Bay Tea Company and camp alumni, announced her intention to donate five percent of the company’s July and August sales to a special fund set up for the camp ... CEO Sterling Matthew was unavailable for comment.” Somehow, Lucy doubted Derrick had really tried to interview Sterling. The campers had never “pounded” Sterling in person, as a teenager, but they were certainly pounding him now in the press.