Page 35 of The Beachgoers
“Cee.” Maris gives a sad smile. “I know.”
“What?”
“Elsa told me her news yesterday.”
“She did?”
“A little bit. She filled me in some when she stopped by my house. She was on her way to Cliff’s for dinner.”
“Okay.” Celia gives a slight sigh. “So I guess I don’t have to put up a front for you.”
“No. You don’t. I totally understand and am pulling for you both.”
“Thanks, Maris,” Celia says while giving her a hug. “Did you tell Jason?”
“No. Nobody.” Maris steps back and assures Celia. “I gave Elsa my word.”
“That’s good. Elsa wants everyone to hear it from her.” Celia glances toward the illuminated inn. “Still, it’ll come as quite a surprise.”
“It definitely will. But Elsa has a way of turning things around, no matter how dire.” Maris looks at the imposing beach inn, too. Several windows are aglow with lamplight, particularly the windows in the turret facing the distant sea. It’s her favorite spot in the whole inn. “Through it all, I hope you’ll keep the writing nook open for me? I love working there, watching the blue water while I type.”
“We’ll always have room for our favorite Stony Point author,” Celia says, giving Maris’ hand a squeeze. “Oh, look! There’s Jason now.” She points toward the wide veranda. “I’ll catch up with you two later? Because Elsa’s waiting inside for me.”
Maris nods. “Go!” she whispers, shooing Celia away.
* * *
But Maris doesn’t go to Jason. Not yet. First she stands there in the shadows of this grand New England inn. On the grounds, off to the side, a long catering table is set out. Food prep is happening there. Closer, people linger on the wide veranda, where candles flicker in hanging Mason jars and ceiling fans slowly paddle the evening air. Jason sits there on a white wicker settee. He’s eating something off a plate on his lap. Maris starts walking in his direction. She passes familiar faces along the way: little Timmy—who Sal saved from drowning last year—is here with his parents. Other Stony Point families mingle. And there’s Vinny and Paige. And Cliff. Elsa is just stepping out onto the veranda, too.
But just then, Maris notices someone else. Someone no one seems to even be aware of yet.
When she looks at Jason first, he watches her walking in his direction and stands to meet her. So she slows, right there on the dewy grass. His casual look suits him tonight, that gray sport jacket over his heathered-white tee and faded jeans. Maybe it’s because his own demeanor finally, after a volatile summer, seems just as casual. She motions for him to follow her across the lawn toward the beach path, where there’s a quiet spot to talk.
Because now’s the time. Shehasto get to Jason beforehenotices who just arrived. Before he notices Shane Bradford.
“Everybody’s here,” Jason calls as he nears her. “Lots of energy in the air.”
“I know,” Maris says. “So we just have a minute.”
Jason takes her hand, and hesitates. And steps closer. And tucks her hair behind her ear. “If I haven’t told you three times already, you look beautiful tonight.”
“Jason.” She gives him a quick smile, then glances toward the distant crowd. “Listen. I actually have something for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. I was going to give it to you at the bakery, but time got away from us.” As she’s talking, she walks further from the inn and pulls a piece of paper out of her denim clutch. Turning, she gives the folded paper to Jason.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“Open it.”
Jason looks down at the paper, unfolds it and reads the two words written in faded ink there. “Shane Bradford.” Jason’s quiet for a long moment. It’s a moment when Maris hears the waves breaking out on the beach, beyond the dune grasses. Those waves lap and hiss, again and again, as though whispering in the night. Squinting at Maris then, Jason asks, “Is this what I think it is?”
Maris nods. “From that bonfire night, fifteen years ago.”
Jason steps closer, tipping his head. “When Kyle had us all burn Shane’s name—”
“Notallof us did, though.”
