The Shore House: An emotional and uplifting page turner (Dewberry Beach Book 1)

by Heidi Hostetter

  “Isn’t that pretty?” her father said. “I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that before. Funny how clearer things become when you slow down.”

  After a moment, he continued the story as they walked toward the boatyard.

  “Your mother’s father was not a good man.” Chase inhaled slowly. “He got mixed up in things he shouldn’t have and left the family without a word of explanation when your mother was very young.” He raised his hand to stay her objection, then continued his story. “We never told you because you didn’t need to know. I’m telling you now because it might help you understand your mother. She holds tight to her family because she knows what it’s like to have one of them suddenly taken away.” He slowed his pace. “I was at work when I had my heart attack, you know that. What you don’t know is that in the confusion, your mother was sent to the wrong hospital. When she arrived, they had no record of me, so of course, she thought the worst. It wasn’t until hours later the hospital discovered their mistake and called to correct it.”

  “She thought you were dead?”

  “She did. For almost a whole day.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “So if it takes your mother a bit longer to recover from this, we need to understand why.”

  They carried on walking, feeling the morning sun on their skin and listening to the songbirds in the trees.

  “It’s been three years, Dad,” Stacy said finally.

  “I know.”

  Seven

  Whatever Chase had said to Stacy seemed to help. From her place at the kitchen window, Kaye saw them walk up the driveway, Stacy leaning into her father and Chase laughing at something she’d said. Like peas in the same pod, those two.

  The rest of the day passed leisurely, as summer days at the shore house seemed to. Stacy retreated upstairs with a book while Ryan looked after the children. Chase settled into his den, with one of the newspapers Maeve held for him behind the counter at her shop. Around noon, Ryan and the kids wandered into the kitchen for lunch then ventured back out again, this time to the salt pond with a heel of bread for the ducks. Chase went to join them, ignoring Kaye’s observation that he might be doing too much.

  By early afternoon, Kaye had found a project herself, planting a flat of red geraniums into the side garden. She’d planned to hire landscapers to cultivate, plant, and mulch all the bedding gardens before Stacy and the kids arrived, but they had been slow to respond so Kaye took on the task herself.

  Time passed quickly as she leaned into the rhythm of her work. She felt the warmth of the early summer sun as she listened to the cicadas coming to life and let her mind wander, hoping to find a solution to her troubles with Stacy. While it was true that she loved both of her children fiercely, she did not love them equally. From the moment she was born, Stacy seemed to know exactly what she wanted from her life and met all of its challenges with unapologetic independence. She took her first steps, made friends at school, medaled in track and field events, and excelled in academics, all without assistance. Even when it came time to apply to college, Stacy didn’t ask for help though Kaye would have been pleased to provide it. Her daughter’s focus seemed to be absolute, and to get in the way of it felt like stepping in front of a moving train—not good for either of them. So Kaye didn’t. She held back, leaving Stacy alone to navigate her life while Kaye poured her energy into Brad. Her son had always been much more willing to share the details of his life with his mother—his first girlfriend, stories from school, dreams of travel. Kaye had been pleased to feel needed. And, to be fair, it was easier to be in her son’s company, especially after that day at the beach when Stacy was little.

  It had been one of the worst days of her life. The only way Kaye found to live with what she’d done was to imagine that Stacy was too little to remember that day. But now, it seemed, she did remember. Ryan’s comment the night before about Stacy being afraid of the ocean had chilled Kaye to the bone.

  When the last geranium was planted, Kaye stood to survey her work. Red geraniums had always signaled the beginning of summer for her. Her mother-in-law had planted her garden full of them and Kaye was happy to uphold the tradition.

  Brushing the dirt from her knees, Kaye collected her gardening things and crossed the backyard to the shed. When she’d first put the house up for rent three years ago, the agent had insisted families would need access to the shed. Kaye had refused. As a compromise, she’d bought an oversized storage box for beach things and positioned it in the corner of the yard. Looking at the rusted padlock securing the shed now, she wondered if this was the summer to finally unlock it. Inside was her father-in-law’s workshop, dusty and filled with tools—it had been an almost sacred space for him. Many weekends, he’d spend whole days there waiting for his son to join him, to work on a project together, but Chase never did. Chase’s love was the world of business, and when he changed his given name from Cesidio Bennetti to Chase Bennett to better fit in with his Ivy League classmates, the rejection of his heritage caused a rift between father and son that never quite healed.

  As she walked toward the house, Kaye wondered what would happen if Chase had joined his father in the work shed, just one time. Then, deciding nothing good would come from looking back, she went inside to start dinner.

  Dinner was ready just as the afternoon light gave way to the softer blues of twilight. Kaye walked out onto the back deck to light the citronella candles scattered across the deck. She’s been worried that Sophie might be allergic to mosquito bites as Stacy had been when she was that age, so the first thing Kaye did when she arrived was buy almost the entire stock of citronellas from Applegate’s Hardware. There were three on the outdoor dining table, a half-dozen more along the deck railing, and a few larger ones stuck in the sand by the firepit just in case. She’d made sure there was fresh wood laid in the firepit, along with bags of marshmallows, clean sticks and packets of chocolate bars in the kitchen in case anyone wanted s’mores. The cushions on the Adirondack chairs had been freshly scrubbed, and the blankets draped over the arm would be warm if the night air cooled. She wanted to serve dinner on the deck as well, especially for the first night at the shore, but decided it was still too chilly. They’d move outside later, for coffee and dessert.

  Back inside, Kaye checked on dinner and was pleased with what she saw. She’d set the table with new linens bought especially for the summer and flowers fresh from the market.

  “The table looks nice, Mom.” Stacy entered the dining room with Connor and lifted him into his booster seat. They’d come to an understanding of sorts, which Chase had no doubt orchestrated and which Kaye was grateful for.

  “Thank you.” Kaye added a garnish of julienned basil to the caprese salad. “I hope you’re all hungry. There’s plenty of everything, so have as much as you want.”

  “It looks delicious, Kaye.” Ryan guided Sophie into her high chair. “I haven’t had a good lobster roll since we left Boston.”

  “Are they from the Fish Shack?” Stacy asked.

  “They are.” Kaye turned to Ryan to explain. “When the kids were little, we’d pick up dinner from a shop by the inlet bridge for the first night—”

  “And it was delicious,” Stacy added.

  Kaye glanced at her daughter and smiled. “It was, wasn’t it? For whatever reason, we stopped going and I think it’s a tradition that needs to be revived.”

  “Did I hear something about lobster rolls?” Chase came in from the den, reading glasses perched on his head. He looked tired. The trip to the duck pond, along with the walk this morning and a game of pirates with Sophie, had been too much for him.

  “You did.” Kaye pointed to the toaster over on the counter. “I think the brioche rolls are done. Would you take them out please?”

  “I’ll get them,” Stacy offered as she slid past her father.

  “What have we got here?” Chase glanced at his grandson. “Looks like you’re all buckled in.”

  “That’s his booster seat, Dad,�
�� Stacy answered.

  “What’s a booster seat?”

  “He can’t quite reach the table from the chair, so a booster seat lifts him up a bit.”

  “What’s wrong with using a phone book?” Chase teased as he reached for a tear of brioche. “The Yellow Pages were good enough for both you kids.”

  “Not for you.” Kaye nudged Chase’s hand away and ignored the pointed look that followed. He knew bread was off limits.

  Instead, she asked him to fill the glasses with ice and take charge of the drinks, and he reluctantly headed back to the kitchen. Ryan followed, volunteering to pull the corn from the pot and stack it onto a platter. Stacy clipped the tray onto Sophie’s high chair and claimed the seat beside her.

  This was it.

  The chatter, the teasing, the overcrowded kitchen. This is what she’d wanted, what she’d imagined months before, this eruption of chaos of a house filled with family and everyone talking at once. She stood, soaking in every detail. Then it occurred to her: this was almost what she wanted but not quite.

  The only thing missing was her son.

  She pushed that thought away as quickly as it appeared, reminding herself that Brad was an adult and wasn’t required to check his messages or telephone his mother. But she wished he would.

  During dinner, Connor and Sophie chatted about the afternoon they’d spent feeding the ducks and asked when they could go to the beach.

  “That reminds me,” Kaye interrupted quickly. “Beach badges are in the wicker basket in the mudroom, next to the beach towels. You’ll need them to get on the beach starting Monday.

  “There’s a corn-eating contest later this summer, if you’re interested.” Kaye continued, in a frantic gesture to change the subject from any mention of the beach. She pointed to the town’s event calendar taped to the kitchen wall. “Also a kite festival later and a crab-crawl. Oh—and a corn-shucking contest too, and don’t forget the Firefly Festival at the end of the summer.”

  “Good to know.” Ryan reached for another ear of corn. “I can start my training right now. This corn is delicious. Everything is.”

  Kaye glanced at Stacy, then away. “Remember when Brad won the pond race that one year?”

  “Of course I do.” Stacy snorted and her expression cleared. “I wanted to race against him but they wouldn’t let me.” She rolled her eyes. “Something about age categories. Anyway, he won and taunted me with that stupid plastic medal. He wore it around his neck for a full week, then taped it to his bedroom door.” Stacy shook her head. “I’m willing to bet he still has it.”

  Conversation for the rest of dinner touched on everything except the beach. They talked about the upcoming bike parade, especially for the kids, which friends planned on summering at Dewberry Beach this year, and guesses as to who might have children or grandchildren Sophie and Connor could play with.

  “And don’t forget, we have the welcome party soon.”

  “Are we still doing that?” Chase asked.

  “Of course we are—it’s tradition,” Kaye replied firmly. “We don’t attend summer parties without hosting at least one in return.”

  After they’d eaten, Ryan leaned back in his chair and groaned. “I haven’t eaten this much since college. I can’t believe I had two lobster rolls.”

  “And corn. So. Much. Corn,” Stacy added. “I’d forgotten how good summer corn is.”

  “I hope you saved room for pie,” Kaye announced as she rose to collect the plates.

  Ryan groaned and Stacy laughed. “Rookie mistake, Ryan. Should have saved room. Mom always has pie.”

  The ding of an incoming text was unexpected because they were still seated. It had long been a family rule that there were no electronics allowed at the table during dinner.

  “Oh, that’s me.” Stacy fished her phone from her pocket and unlocked the screen.

  Stacy scanned the message and smiled with a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

  “Mom, it’s from Brad. He’s coming. He’s on the bridge.”

  How had Brad known to come? Kaye had left messages but none of them provided details of their summer plans. And none of them had been returned. Confused, she glanced around the room at her family. Stacy was tending to the children, cleaning them up and directing them outside. She would have said if Brad had returned her calls. Kaye looked at her husband, piling dishes up by the sink, his back to her. Then dismissed his involvement immediately. She wasn’t sure Chase even knew Brad’s phone number. Kaye’s gaze swept to Ryan, transporting the last of the dinner dishes from the table. He met her gaze and gave the briefest of nods, then returned to his work.

  Her son-in-law was a treasure.

  After tidying the kitchen the rest of the family wandered outside. Kaye stayed behind to make up a plate for Brad. It was something she’d done for years because her son was never one to watch the clock. In kindergarten, he’d become so absorbed in the wooden blocks on the playmat that his teacher had to remind him that it was time to go home. And later, in high school, when sports practices ran late or he was out and forgot to call, she’d always made sure there was a plate of food waiting for him in the refrigerator.

  She assembled the food on a platter, remembering what he especially liked. She decided on two lobster rolls, a side of caprese—with fat tomatoes and an extra splash of balsamic—and the last of the green beans. Unfortunately, that’s all that was left. They’d eaten everything else. She covered the plate with plastic wrap and slipped it into the refrigerator.

  Summer traffic from the bridge would be light this time of day and Kaye expected Brad before long. He could eat his dinner, and when he was finished, they’d have dessert as a family. She waited a while then glanced at the clock beginning to wonder what bridge Brad had meant when he texted his sister. Surely he’d be here by now?

  She reached for the sponge to wipe down the counter again, when the door from the mudroom burst open and her son filled the frame. He stood, with wild auburn hair that needed a good cut and a shadow of stubble across his jaw, wearing a faded T-shirt under a rumpled flannel shirt, jeans that needed a good wash, and a collection of corded bracelets on his wrist.

  “Hello? Anybody home?!” he called out, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled.

  “I’m right here,” Kaye replied as she tucked the sponge away. “No need to shout.”

  “Hey, Ma.” Brad dropped his duffel, a thread-worn canvas thing that needed replacing. It landed with a thud on the mudroom floor as he went to hug his mother.

  She was overjoyed to see him. The unanswered phone calls, the unreturned messages, all of it would be forgiven now that he’d come home. Her family was together, all of them under the same roof, and the summer stretched out before her waiting to be filled with new memories.

  She eventually released him, then glanced at the luggage he’d brought with him, two more bags beside the one he’d dropped. Each bag was filthy, the canvas splattered with mud, the handles frayed at the edges. How had he managed to travel with such a ratty collection? She’d speak to him later about replacing all of it.

  “You brought dirty laundry home for me to do, I see.” She bit back a smile.

  “Maybe a little.” He lifted one shoulder and offered a lopsided grin. “I’ve been busy. Traveling.”

  “Have you?” Kaye arched her eyebrow. “Have you been traveling? So far away you couldn’t return a single one of my phone calls?”

  “I texted Stacy. Ask her.”

  “You texted your sister from the bridge. That hardly counts,” Kaye pointed out. “I saved some dinner for you. It’s in the refrigerator, same as always. Lobster rolls— though you don’t deserve them, coming in late like this, without a word to anyone.” As she walked past him she squeezed his shoulders, then let go. “Pick up a telephone and call me next time. No more of this texting business.”

  Stacy and Ryan came in from the deck when they heard Brad’s voice.

  “Brad, you little weasel, I thought I heard your voice.
Why haven’t you returned my messages?” Stacy shoved her brother before reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him. “I left a million of them.”

  “Woah,” Brad said, as he pushed her gently away and looked at her stomach. “What happened to you?”

  Stacy scoffed. “Seriously? I have to explain it to you?”

  “See?” Kaye said, as she filled a glass with lemonade. “I’m not the only one who thinks you’ve been away too long.”

  “It’s hard to get an internet connection on the trail, Ma. It’s pretty isolated up there.” Brad went to greet Ryan.

  “Good to see you, man,” Ryan said. “Glad you came.”

  Chase joined them and the energy in the room shifted. The light in Brad’s eye dimmed as if he were awaiting judgment, which, Kaye supposed, he was.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Good to see you, son.” Chase’s tone was formal, cool, as he extended his hand, and Kaye wanted to shake them both.

  There had always been an underlying tension between Chase and Brad that went way beyond normal father-son dynamics. It was as if Chase couldn’t bring himself to accept what he termed his son’s “lack of direction.” The truth was that Brad had more in common with his grandfather, Santos, than he did with Chase and Kaye wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  Quickly, Kaye brought the lemonade to the table and pulled out the chair. They had all summer to heal the rift between father and son. She didn’t need to start now.

  “Uncle Brad’s here!” Connor called excitedly to his sister as he grabbed Brad’s hand. “Come see, Uncle Brad. We have marshmallows. And sticks.”

  Brad laughed as he followed Connor out to the deck. “My two favorite things. Lead the way, little dude.”

  At the door, he stopped and called back to his sister. “I’ll know if you touch those lobster rolls, so keep your hands off.”

  Stacy rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, please. Mom may have saved you sad little leftovers, but you missed out on corn. It was deee-licious.”