Page 29 of A Novel Summer
“You must be off course. I’ve got this block. But come in so the cat doesn’t run out.”
Shelby stepped inside, and he closed the door behind her. The house was already overheated and had a strong floral smell. “I could use some help, actually. I’ve been here for fifteen minutes trying to get the woman who lives here to leave.” He turned on his flashlight and she blinked against the bright beam.
“I don’t care how many of you show up, I’m not going,” a female voice said from the darkness. The beam from Justin’s light danced near the woman, not directly on her, but close enough for Shelby to make out a long green robe and the fact that the woman resembled actress Maggie Smith.
“Ms. Brier, this heat is dangerous. Just come to an air-conditioned shelter until the power comes back.” Justin leaned close to Shelby and whispered, “She won’t go without her cat.”
“Understandable,” Shelby whispered back.
“How are you with animals?”
“Great,” Shelby said. The truth was, she’d never even had a pet. But she found herself volunteering to find the cat and bring it to her owner at the shelter. Shelby and Justin exchanged phone numbers to get in touch if needed.
Later, when she reconvened with Hunter and Colleen at the Dillworth house, she told them both about her little adventure. Hunter seemed particularly interested and asked her a million questions. But Shelby didn’t confide in them that she hoped to see Justin Lombardo again. It was embarrassing to have a summer crush. She was an adult now. There were more important things to think about.
Then, a few days later, Justin texted her. Then they spoke on the phone, and he invited her for a hike. He picked her up in his truck and they drove to Dune Shacks Trail. The mile walk led up and down steep hills to the ocean. They talked about their families. He was soft-spoken and serious and for a while she wondered if he was even interested in her as more than a friend. And then he kissed her at the edge of the ocean.
Now, in the Town Hall room where she’d first seen him, it took her less than thirty seconds to spot him in the front row. He’d been so kind the other night with Hunter. She hoped she’d at least have his vote today.
The town selectman, Gene Hobart, banged a gavel on top of the table where he was seated alongside five other members of the council. The room silenced itself. “The first item on tonight’s agenda is the sale of 16 MacMillan Pier, the current site of the Pirate Museum. Now, as a reminder, we’re looking at three thousand square feet with a twenty-five-foot boat slip. Prime real estate,” he said. “At issue is whether or not we expand the zoning to allow for residential use.”
The crowd erupted in chatter.
“Order, please,” Gene said, banging his gavel again. “Bert Lombardo has the floor.”
Justin’s father stood and turned to look at the room. When they first met she’d liked him immediately. He was a man who did his job without fuss or drama, with a determined “do it right or don’t do it at all” ethos. She’d sensed from the beginning how important it had been to Justin that she and his father click, and they had. So it hurt now to see his deep-set brown eyes skip over her like she was a stranger.
“Every summer we have less and less affordable housing for seasonal workers,” Bert said. “We’re failing the people who help us service the tens of thousands of tourists spending the money that, for most of us, makes our entire year. If it weren’t for generous neighbors donating their guesthouses for my line cooks, I don’t know if I’d be operational right now.” He spoke quickly, obviously uncomfortable with public speaking, but making an effort for something about which he felt strongly. When he finished, he glanced at Justin, who stood just as his father sat back down.
“I’m sure everyone in this room knows that Lombardo’s Restaurant isn’t the only business in this situation,” Justin said. “So let’s do something about it: a building’s for sale on the wharf. It could be turned into affordable housing. I’m asking that the town trust put together an offer to try to buy it.”
Shelby knew all about the town trust from her summer with Justin. The group had formed a decade ago, when the general store closed and the town missed it so much they decided to find a way to bring it back. An offshoot of the town council created a Provincetown Community Trust, raising hundreds of thousands of dollars to reopen the store and subsidize its continued operation.
The room erupted in conversation. Gene banged his gavel for silence, then called the vote. It appeared everyone raised their hand to vote yes.
“Do we have any nays?” he asked.
The room was silent. Satisfied, Bert Lombardo sat down.
Next, it was her turn. She stood, squared her shoulders, and glanced at Duke. He gave her a thumbs-up.
“Hello, everyone,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m Shelby Archer, and I’m working with Colleen Miller at Land’s End Books. One thing we’re trying to do to keep the store competitive is host more author events. But our floor space is less than two thousand square feet and a lot of that is taken up by permanent shelving that can’t be moved to make room for an audience. I’d like permission for temporary use of the beach behind the shop, just to set up folding chairs and host events once a week.”
Justin languidly unfolded himself from his seat and once again faced the room. “As head of the Conservation Commission, I’d like to remind everyone that we voted to cap the commercial bay beach usage at forty percent, and we’ve reached that ceiling since the Buoy opened their outdoor seating.” He sat down without so much as a glance in her direction. She felt her face turn red.
What was he doing?
“Land’s End is an institution,” Shelby shot back. “The book industry has changed since the store opened and, respectfully, I think this town should help Land’s End to change with it. It’s a beloved bookshop, and it needs our support.”
Justin stood back up. “We need to draw the line somewhere to protect our beaches.”
Gene Hobart took it to a vote. Shelby lost by three.
Afterwards, as everyone filed out, she marched over to him.
“What was that all about?”
He stopped walking and ran his hand through his hair.
