Page 75 of The Summer House
“Hey,” Luke said with a grin as he ducked away from a few of the reporters, throwing a hand up to signal that he’d return. “How’s my girl?” He gave Callie a squeeze around the shoulders.
“Fantastic.”
Luke took a deep breath and grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the staff. “I’ll be back. I have a few more reporters who want to know about my father’s plans for the company,” he said, with slight apprehension on his face. Callie was keenly aware that he was keeping his worries at bay so as not to spoil the day. She didn’t want to think about what would happen after today. Pushing it out of her mind, she offered an encouraging smile. Then he darted off into the crowd.
“He is an absolute delight,” Gladys said. “He’s been here through everything.”
Callie twisted the new bracelet on her arm nervously, hoping to channel her grandmother’s calm. To her surprise, her mother had also brought something for them. She had brought a bottle of wine for everyone, and offered her another gift privately. Before everyone had arrived, she’d asked Callie to join her in the formal living room, that was now full of white linen-covered sofas and chairs with denim and burlap throw pillows, gauzy white curtains at the windows and a soft, driftwood-colored rug in the center of the room, Frederick’s mural providing all the color the room needed.
“I haven’t been there for you like I should have,” she said, concern causing her to frown. She’d told Callie that same thing once when she was in high school, but until now, Callie hadn’t been ready to believe her. “Time has passed so quickly,” she said, shaking her head, the lines of worry over the years etched into her face. But then, she offered a cheerful expression, her thin lips pressed into a bright smile. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve all of this.” She waved a hand in the air, taking in a few breaths as if she were putting in order what she was going to say. “Anyway, I wanted you to have this.” She dug around in a small sack she’d brought in with her, pulling out a tiny gift bag and handing it to Callie. Callie reached into the bag and pulled out a gift box, opening it gently.
She gasped quietly as she pulled from the cotton batting a delicate silver bracelet with a single charm. She held it up and inspected it, admiring its beauty. “Is that a diamond?”
“It’s the diamond from your grandmother’s wedding ring. She wanted you to have it. I made it into a bracelet for you. She told me to wait for the perfect occasion—you know how she was. She liked to make a statement.”
Callie smiled. “I do remember. I love it.” She slipped it on and hugged her mother, closing her eyes and squeezing her tightly.
“I brought a little something for the house too,” she said. “It’s up in my suitcase.” Callie had taken the gift out to Olivia later that morning and they’d opened a small picture frame with little sand dollars at the corner.
“We should all take a picture today!” Olivia had said.
They’d agreed that once the crowds had gone, they’d take a photo for the frame. But for now, it was time to entertain. Callie and Olivia had hired a band to play outside on the patio, they’d put fresh flowers in tiny pots on every table inside and out, and, while they’d had to cancel their original caterer because they were low on funds, the ladies had worked quite hard to make the spread of food elegant and simple, hiring only a small staff to work the party. Even Gladys had joined in, delighting in having a reason to make her favorite dishes all at once. The paddle fans on the porches whirred, causing the beaded driftwood mobiles to tinkle like wind chimes, the ocean calmly lapping as if it were celebrating this moment of completion and relaxation. It had all come down to this: opening day.
All the Sullivans were there for the opening—all except Edward. Luke had called to tell him about it, but had had to leave a message as Edward had not picked up. Juliette had been helping all morning to prepare, Mitchell arriving with Lillian for the ribbon cutting.
The opening had gone off without a hitch. An area restaurant had offered to partner with her, providing dishes that she could serve at the bed and breakfast, and the local paper was going to run a full-page story on The Beachcomber. Luke had promised interviews to generate a buzz in the media, the press also taking photos of Callie and Olivia as well as the house itself. The reporters wrote notes in their notepads, their companies’ photographers busy behind their lenses taking photos. Callie gave one reporter the address of the new website for The Beachcomber. She’d never thought they’d be able to open when they had, especially given the storm, but they’d done it. She couldn’t have asked for a better day.
When Luke had givenhis last interview, he met Callie on the porch. She’d followed her mother outside. The crowds were dwindling now, and they were settling down, the champagne and good spirits showing on their faces.
“So you are the famous Luke Sullivan,” her mother said, finally able to talk to him, as Juliette filled her glass again with what was left of the champagne. It had been so busy that they’d barely had a chance to talk, only meeting briefly.
Luke nodded graciously.
“My daughter speaks very highly of you.”
He grinned at Callie. “Does she?” He poured two more glasses of champagne at the small table they’d set up for guests. It was now littered with empty glasses. He handed one to Callie, affection in his eyes. Poppy, who’d been running around the grounds most of the day, plopped down at his feet. As they all settled in, Callie wished the day could stretch on forever. She took in the curve of Luke’s jaw as he smiled at her, the lack of tension in his shoulders, the interest in his eyes.
“Yes. And that’s saying a lot because she’s never told me much about anyone she’s dated.”
Callie pulled her attention back to the conversation.
“Well, I charmed her with caramel macchiatos and crab cake dinners.”
Callie laughed.
People had filtered in and out all day, but Callie was glad that the Sullivans had stayed after the rest of the public had gone and had settled on the porch with them. With the last of the crowd still lingering around the band below, the Sullivans, Olivia, Gladys, Wyatt, Callie, and her mother had all remained there, talking. Luke made a silly face at her as if he were exhausted, and she felt that familiar adoration swim around inside her. She knew he hadn’t wanted to talk to the press but he’d done it for her, to help get her name out there. He pulled an empty rocking chair next to her.
“Today was good!” he said, looking out over the ocean. The sun was beating down but it wasn’t terribly humid, so the sea breeze cooled them easily. Someone down on the beach was playing with his child, lifting the little girl up onto his shoulders. The band continued to play—they’d paid them until five—and there was a sort of magic in the air. Callie peered over the railing at the new walkway and a smile inched its way across her face: The wood was sparkling in the sun. With excitement, she looked over at Gladys.
“Stardust,” she said with a wink.
As they all sat around, the hum of chatter in the air between them, Poppy hopped up and turned toward the door, her ears perked. There was a hush, and Callie felt the serenity of the moment slide away. Slowly, she turned around. Edward was standing in the doorway.
“Hello,” he said, walking in, his stare fixed on Luke but his words clearly meant for everyone. He pulled his focus off Luke to offer a polite smile to Callie and the others.
Lillian stared at him, an apprehensive look on her face.
Luke stood up. He walked over to one of the tables and pulled a bottle of beer from a melting bucket of ice, popping the top and handing it to Edward as if it were a peace offering.
