“It really sucks,” Elsa affirmed.
Carmella placed her hands on her hips and watched her phone over the next fifteen, twenty seconds. And just when she wanted to give up on it, it flashed. When she lifted it, she found a welcoming message from Cal, the man she’d basically obsessed over the previous few days.
“Is it him?” Elsa asked.
“It is.”
“Read it!”
Carmella couldn’t remember the last time Elsa had shown such interest in her life. She beamed as she read it aloud.
“Carmella, great to hear from you! I’d love to get a drink. What about tonight? Meet me at the Sunrise Cove?”
Carmella and Elsa screamed in unison and jumped up and down like teenagers. Elsa wrapped Carmella in a hug, then said, “I always knew you’d find happiness, Carmella.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Carmella told her, even as her heart ballooned three times its size.
But later that night, as Carmella drove over to the Sunrise Cove, she was overcome with a sense of hope. Anything really could happen if you dared to believe in it. She was mending her relationship with her sister; she was finding new ways to laugh and to love. She deserved it. After so long, it was her time.
Cal waited for her at the Sunrise Cove Inn Bistro with a bottle of wine and olives, cheeses and freshly baked bread. He was exceedingly handsome, and he flashed that now slightly familiar smile toward her as she stepped toward him. A blush crept up across her breasts, over her throat and across her cheeks, and she beamed at him as she sat.
“Hi,” she said.
“And hello to you.”
There was such tension between them. Carmella found herself fumbling for conversation topics. After their first glass of wine, she eventually found herself laughing easily, tumbling through conversation. She made Cal laugh several times, a fact that thrilled her. And when he asked if she wanted to go to his suite for another glass of wine, she nodded slowly, careful to keep her excitement at bay.
They walked through the foyer toward the staircase. A young man stood at the foyer counter — not a Sheridan, as far as Carmella knew, although it was difficult to keep up with the mass numbers of Sheridans. They seemed to come out of the woodwork. He bid them goodnight as they headed up the steps, and Carmella blushed all over again. Was she really going to spend the night? With this guy? At the Sunrise Cove?
Upstairs, Carmella sat at the edge of the suite’s couch and poured them both glasses of wine. Cal checked something on his phone and muttered something about his deadline from that day. Carmella breathed a sigh of relief. After all, if he’d had a deadline, then that meant he’d had reason enough not to text her. People were busy—people who weren’t her, at least.
“To your deadline,” Carmella said as she lifted her glass to clink against his.
“Thank you.”
They continued to talk and flirt and banter. Carmella was mesmerized by how comfortable she felt. She could have gazed into his eyes forever.
Eventually, they kissed. Carmella wasn’t entirely sure on the details of who kissed who — just that suddenly, his arms were around her and her heart pattered wildly in her chest and she was lost in a sea of lips and the immensity of her feelings.
If this was what living was, she wanted all of it— forever.
Chapter Fourteen
Years before, when Carmella had been maybe eight or nine, her father had said something that stuck with her. The only constant in this world — the only thing that never changed was change itself. The sentiment had struck her as strange and sad at the time. After all, she’d looked around to see her mother, her brother, her sister, her father, and their dog at the time and asked herself, how could she possibly live any other kind of life?
That morning, Carmella blinked awake and discovered that she’d stretched herself out on the couch in Cal’s suite. She was fully clothed, with a large quilt over the top of her, and her makeup remained caked to her face, which was a big no-no, according to Mila Ellis, the woman who owned the esthetician salon. Carmella’s head echoed with the severity of her hangover. She groaned inwardly and lifted herself the slightest bit from the couch. At the far end of the room, Cal was tucked away in bed. Light snores rolled out from his throat.
What had happened? Carmella remembered they kissed, then nothing much at that. She guessed she had just fallen asleep, and he’d had the kindness to place the blanket over her and let her dream away into darkness. She was a bit disappointed, but also not. She hadn’t fully been ready to go “all the way” with this relative stranger. Besides, if it was real, then what was the rush?
Carmella’s purse sat alongside the couch. She reached for it, unzipped it, and then found her phone at the top. The time was eight-thirty — much later than she’d expected. She didn’t have an appointment at the Lodge until eleven, but she needed to head back home and get cleaned up. This gave her pause, as well. She didn’t want to go back to the chaos of waiting for him to text her again. Plus, there was the horror of imagining what would happen next. Would he leave the island, even after such a beautiful time?
Carmella had several text messages — all from Elsa.
ELSA: Good luck tonight!
ELSA: Thinking about you so much!
And then, just past eleven, Elsa texted:
ELSA: Oh my gosh! I haven’t heard from you. Are you still with that guy?
Then, around midnight, she texted:
ELSA: You! Are! Up! To! No! Good!
But then, at eight-oh-seven that morning, Elsa had written another, more sinister message. It had a link to a Boston magazine along with the text:
ELSA: Call me when you leave his place right away.
Carmella furrowed her brow and clicked the link. It sent her to the Boston magazine, where a title flashed before her eyes.
HELEN SKARSGAARD WON’T FIND HEALING AT THE KATAMA LODGE
Then, the sub-headline was as-follows:
The Katama Lodge and Wellness Spa advertise itself as a one-stop-shop for wellness, health and therapy. But in the process, the Lodge buries its own sinister background that is filled with lies, deception, death, and family secrets that lurk beneath its glossy sheen walls.
Carmella bolted to her feet and gaped at the article. The writer, of course, was none other than Cal. As she read through the first few paragraphs, her arms began to shake and her heart pounded so hard in her chest that it threatened to burst free. He’d written about all of it — about Carmella’s relationship with her father and mother in the wake of her brother’s accident, about Colton and what had happened, and about Elsa, Aiden, Nancy, and Karen. The stuff about Karen was particularly jolting, as he had also talked about Carmella and what she’d said about their relationship
“I first met Carmella Remington in the Southwest. She’d just had an encounter with her ex-stepmother, a woman who had lived with Neal, Elsa, and Carmella Remington over twenty years previous and also worked at the Lodge at the time. Carmella reported that Karen was guarded and dark, yet another black force beneath the heart of the Katama Lodge. Carmella was very upset about her run-in with Karen, as it had brought to the surface a number of traumatic events within Carmella’s life with her father and sister. ‘Maybe she’s right. Maybe they never really loved me or cared about me after the accident,’ Carmella Remington says. And it’s true that when I look at Carmella, the local acupuncturist, I wonder how such a messed-up creature could possibly care for anyone at all.
“Now, it’s up to us to ask — is Helen Skarsgaard receiving the best treatment at the Katama Lodge and Wellness Spa? Is this really the answer to her heartache and horror? I heard several times that the security around the Lodge itself wasn’t up to snuff and that several tabloid journalists burst past the lines and took photographs of poor Helen as she reckoned with the healing process. If the Katama Lodge can’t uphold security above all things, what are they good for?”
The article was probably two thousand words long. It just went on and o
n. Carmella’s jaw dropped lower, her mouth was instantly dry and she felt nauseated. She felt like a trapped animal. She turned her eyes back toward the slumbering man, a total stranger, and the man who’d violated her trust and totally thrown her family and the Lodge under the bus to advance his own career. Oh God, how could she had trusted him?
She had two options. She could run out of the room and never speak to the guy again. Or, she could demand answers. Maybe a different version of Carmella would have run away. But this version stormed up to his bed, placed a hand on his shoulder, and shook him until he woke.
His eyes popped open. He gaped at her. “What the hell?”
Carmella flashed her phone around to show him the article. “I should say the same to you.”
Cal rubbed his eyes and groaned. He then slid himself up to lean against the pillows behind him. “I don’t know what to tell you. You know that I’m a journalist.”
“But you never once told me that I was a part of your damn story.”
“Stories fall into your lap like that, and when they do, you have to grab them. It’s just part of the business,” he said, like it was no big deal.
Carmella seethed. She wanted to throw her phone at his face. “But what about last night? What about our time in the Southwest? What about —”
He shrugged again. “We just talked. I don’t know.”
“That wasn’t just talking. That was so much more than just talking.”
He was gaslighting her. This was what that was. She wasn’t sure she’d ever had it happen before. It felt like a double-edged sword had penetrated her heart.
“Whatever, Carmella. You’re clearly not really—” He gaped at her.
“Clearly not what?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “You know.”
“What?”
“Experienced.”
Carmella’s eyes widened. The truth of it hit her hard. Still, what kind of man actually called her out on this fact? She couldn’t believe it.
“You’re a disgusting man. You need to get the hell off this island,” Carmella fumed.
He just shrugged. “It’s a free country, right?”
Carmella could have thrown a million insults into his face, but she held them back. She jumped back toward the couch, grabbed her purse, and headed for the door. As she gripped the doorknob, she turned back and caught his gaze one last time. She was reminded of all the tiny, little pieces of their experiences together — all the times she’d thought, maybe, it was finally her time to fall in love. How stupid she felt. How stupid to trust such beautiful eyes. How stupid to trust the enormity of her hope.
“Goodbye, Carmella,” Cal said. He saluted her like some kind of evil soldier and then gave her that crooked grin. “I hope you get out of that prison soon. Thanks for the great content. My editor loved it.”
“Go to hell.” Carmella stomped into the hallway and slammed the door closed. Tears sprung to her eyes. Hurriedly, she rushed down the staircase, only to discover many of the Sheridans downstairs, all having some kind of boisterous family meeting around the front desk. There was Amanda Harris, Susan’s daughter, along with Susan, Audrey Sheridan and her baby, Max, along with Christine and Lola.
Lola recognized Carmella first, lifted a hand, and then waved. Her eyebrows lowered when she realized Carmella’s state. Carmella whipped past her, pretending not to have seen her, but Lola rushed out into the bright morning and called her name.
“Carmella Remington! Stop!”
Carmella stood out on the front porch of the Sunrise Cove and waited. Lola appeared alongside her. She wrapped a strand of hair around her ear and tried to lock eyes with Carmella, who refused.
“I read the article this morning.”
Carmella knew Lola worked as a journalist. She turned sharp eyes toward her.
“Do you know him?” Carmella breathed.
Lola shook her head. “I’ve worked for that magazine several times. I just contacted my editor there to see what’s up.”
Carmella almost looked hopeful for a moment. “Do you think they can take it down?”
“Probably not,” Lola told her. “And because it’s about Helen Skarsgaard, the readership will be off the charts.”
Carmella allowed the first of her tears to fall.
“He’s staying at the Sunrise Cove, isn’t he? I thought I saw his name on the ledgers.”
Carmella nodded.
“Is that where you just came from?”
Carmella nodded again as her face scrunched up with sorrow. Before she knew what she’d done, she placed her forehead on Lola’s shoulder and wept. Lola’s hands found her shoulders and she held her softly, tenderly.
“I can’t imagine facing my sister right now,” Carmella said through tears. “It looks like I totally threw the Katama Lodge and our family under the bus. But I thought I was just getting to know someone! Gosh, Lola, I never get to know anyone! And now this happens!”
“He’s an awful excuse for a man. Really. This is something, as a journalist, I would never do,” Lola said softly. “I hope you know that it isn’t your fault. It really isn’t. You walked right into a toxic person who took full advantage of the situation without any regard for your feelings or family. Anyone else would have fallen for it, too.”
Carmella wasn’t sure that she believed Lola; she wasn’t sure she could trust anyone right then. She felt completely vulnerable. One thing that was sure was that Lola was the stronghold she needed right then. She walked her over to her car and made sure she got out of the parking lot okay, then waved a hand as Carmella disappeared back toward Edgartown.
This was the day of reckoning. Carmella would have to face her past and her mistakes. And she wasn’t fully sure if she was strong enough — especially with this broken heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Carmella stood in a catatonic state in her shower as the water streamed over her back. Her hangover had latched to the back of her head; it felt as though craters formed along her skull. In just half an hour, she would have to face her sister, her stepmother, and her stepsister, and it wouldn’t be pretty. Was there anywhere in the world she could possibly run to? For years, she had envisioned herself calling Karen and building a new life wherever she was. That door had officially closed and it was now locked for good.
Carmella parked in the lot, grabbed her purse, and stepped out of her car. Toward the edge of the lot, several tabloid journalists had gathered in a circle. Carmella could just barely make out some of the words they spewed.
“How did he get all this info?”
“He must have had someone on the inside?”
“These photos — how did he make it all the way down to her cabin?”
Carmella clenched her eyes shut. She told her heart to calm itself down and she tried her best to breathe. After another moment, she stepped up the walkway to the foyer, then breezed in to find Mallory at the front desk. Her fingers flew hurriedly as she typed across the keyboard. She hardly glanced up. The air was already sinister, dark.
Carmella headed for the hallway. Perhaps she could escape her sister’s wrath, get through her appointments for the day, and then return to her bed alone. All she wanted was sleep. But the moment she entered her office, Elsa’s shadow darkened her door. She cleared her throat, crossed her arms over her chest, and gave her that look — the very same one she had given her long ago when Carmella had accidentally broken one of Elsa’s toys.
“So, you had quite a night last night.”
Carmella felt her heart race and a lump form in her throat. She dropped her purse to the acupuncture table and forced herself to find her sister’s eyes. Her own welled with tears. She couldn’t control her emotions any longer.
“I didn’t know,” she breathed.
Elsa’s face relaxed the slightest bit. “Of course, you didn’t know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Elsa shrugged. “I mean, you told him everything. All our dirty laundry. It’s all out there,
now.”
Carmella’s nostrils flared. She stuttered, then said, “I mean, I think I’m allowed to talk about it. About everything that happened to me.”
“Yeah, but not to a journalist, Carm.”
“Then who the heck am I supposed to talk to about it? Because it’s been pretty clear over the years that you don’t want even an ounce of my honesty or how I feel.”
Carmella’s heart pattered louder. She suddenly felt all the pent-up anger that had been building. It was the hangover, maybe — or maybe it was just the culmination of decade after decade of pain and heartache and feeling excommunicated from her own family.
“Calm down, Carmella.”
“No. I don’t think I can.” Carmella swallowed the lump in her throat. “I didn’t mean to put any bad press out there. You know that the Lodge has been my only home over the years. As you’ve gotten married and had babies and built your life, all I’ve had is this. And you know, I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. At least not on purpose.”
“You’ve made it pretty clear that you never liked our family. That we poisoned you, and therefore, that we’re apt to poison every other woman who comes here for ‘healing.’ You made us look so foolish, Carmella.”
“Why is that the worst part of it?” Carmella demanded. “Isn’t it maybe worse that I’ve felt like I’ve never fit in, on this island, or within our family — ever since everything happened?”
“You blew it so far out of proportion, Carmella,” Elsa blared.
At that moment, Carmella’s first client for the day appeared at the far end of the hallway. Carmella snapped a finger to her lips and glared at her sister. She no longer felt any of the goodwill she’d brewed in the previous month. Elsa looked like a stranger.
“Let me do the one thing I’m capable of doing,” Carmella said pointedly. “Just let me help this woman.”
“Before the Lodge has to close because of the article,” Elsa said under her breath. “What the hell would Dad say, Carm? After all he’s done for us? After all he’s built here?”
Summertime Nights Page 9
