Page 22 of Summer Romance

“I’m really notstupid,” Harold says while we’re waiting on the front steps. He’s fidgeting with the stiff collar of his shirt, and I can only imagine how he longs to be back on the beach, where the work is straightforward and the uniform is unstarched.

“She doesn’t think you’re stupid. I don’t speak French. Not because I’m stupid but because I never learned how. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Ferris lifts his head off my lap and alerts me that something exciting is happening just before Ethan comes into sight. He’s walking from the parking lot in a white T-shirt and red swim trunks with a giant bag of limes in each hand. He smiles when he sees me, like I’m the thing he’s been looking everywhere for.

“Pretty,” he says, and then turns to Harold. I scan myself for what he could be referring to. “So I got some frantic and mildly aggressive texts about limes? I went to Costco. Has Frannie gone insane?”

Harold takes the limes. “I don’t know, man. It’s about a lot more than limes.”

“Harold hasn’t had a chance to learn the ordering system, so Frannie’s on her way here. I’m going to watch Theo.”

Ethan squats down to pet Ferris. He hasn’t shaved, and he has the tiniest bit of stubble on his jaw. He looks up at me and says, “A baby, a dog, and Ali Morris. I’m staying for this.”

I’m standing here in front of the man who I held hands with and with whom I want to have a summer romance, and I am tongue-tied. I’m trying to get the word “okay” out when Frannie pulls up. She leaves her car right at the entrance, like she’s in a fire truck and time is of the essence. “I’m sorry I yelled,” she says to all of us, pulling Theo out of his car seat. “It’s just too much. I don’t think Mom and Dad know what they’re asking of us.”

“Yeah, wait till you see how much stuff is in that house,” Ethan says. “I went through a single cupboard yesterday and almost ran away to Florida myself.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Frannie says. “Here, take Theo. I’ll text you when we’re done.” She thrusts the baby into my arms, but he reaches for Ethan instead.

I know just how Theo feels, so I hand him over. Frannie and Harold disappear to the offices around back, leaving Ethan and me standing there on the steps with our charges.

“They carry him too much,” he says.

“Right?” I agree.

“I try not to give parenting advice, because what do I know.”

“Well it’s true—he’s like a marsupial,” I say.

“Let’s go onto the beach and let him crawl around.”

“I have the dog,” I say.

“I know the owners.”

We walk into the inn and I have the same sense of awe that I’ve had every single time I’ve been here. It’s as if by walking through the double oak doors, I am retrieving a piece of my heart. My mother is by my side, and we’re celebrating something—a birthday, a big soccer season, a goodgrade. Table for two on the patio, please. My mother gets the crab cakes, and I order a steak. It’s where she surprised me with my charm bracelet and my very first charm, which she designed after my third-grade play. After dinner, we stashed our shoes under the deck and walked down the beach while the sun set. I ran my arm through the water and watched the tiny fairy charm shimmer wet in the light. She held my hand and reviewed every performance in the play. She sparkled with the thrill of it, as if she’d waited her whole life to have a child in a school play. Which, after seven miscarriages in twelve years, she probably felt like she had.

The Hogans had just completed the big renovation before my mom’s last birthday, so she got to see it as it is today. I remember our collective relief that the renovation was mainly just tweaking and updating. The spirit of the place is the same as it’s always been, and I am oddly possessive of it. Reception is a long white desk that must be a hundred years old. Beyond it, floor-to-ceiling plantation shutters are open so that we can see straight out to the sound. The floors are original but have been restained a dark cherry, making the bright white walls and shutters feel like an explosion of light. The chandelier at the entrance is made of seashells, and they sway a bit with the motion of the ceiling fans.

Ethan carries Theo through a sitting area toward the back deck. I carry Ferris out of respect for the new sisal rugs.

He leads me down the steps where my mom and I used to welcome the summer. We walk down the beach toward the water. Ethan puts Theo down and we each take one of his hands and let him kick at the hot sand.

“This is pretty good, right?” he asks.

“It’s pretty good,” I say.

Theo lets go of our hands and plops down onto the sand. We sit cross-legged on either side of him, forming two half circles that should attach at our knees. Ferris crawls into my lap. Ethan’s squinting against the sun and showing Theo how to shovel sand into a heap with his hand. I run my eyes across his brow and along the angles of his cheekbones. It is an inarguably beautiful face, but when Theo makes him smile it is something else, something clear and warm. I’m trying to connect this to anything I remember about him from high school, but I can’t.

“How’s the house coming along?” I ask.

“It’s a nightmare.”

“I love that house.”

“It’s a good house. Crazy location though, right in the middle of everything.”

“Super convenient to the library,” I say.

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