Page 7 of A Novel Summer
“You know,” she said, fanning herself with the agenda printout, “I could be having brunch right now with a very attractive guy I met last night.” That wasn’t exactly true. The whole point of a one-night stand was that it wasone night. So even without the morning meeting, she wouldn’t have made an exception for Ezra. She was, as Lady Gaga said, a “free bitch, baby.”
Maybe the thing that bothered her the most about Shelby’s book was that it was, on the surface, a fairly accurate depiction of how indiscriminate her sex life might look from the outside. But Hunter didn’t want to be in a relationship. She didn’t see the point. She had no intention of getting married and living like the rest of the Dillworths: kids in all the right schools and homes all over the world filled with all the right stuff. No thanks. She wanted to travel light.
And also—she liked sex. So what? It was totally normal to hook up with a lot of people when you were in college. She had nothing to feel ashamed about. And she hadn’t—until Shelby’s book.
There was one particular scene in which the main character, Ashley, was called DD behind her back—for Dirty Dozen. Hunter had practically tossed the book across the room when she read that. Had people called her that at school and Shelby never told her? Never toldher, but announced it to the world?
She couldn’t ask. She had too much pride.
“Well, I’m glad that you’re here,” Duke said. “It’s important to be involved.”
“If I take the job with you and Seaport Press, that’s involvement.”
“Civic duty helps the entire town, not just the reading population.”
One of the things she liked best about Provincetown was thateveryoneseemed to be part of the reading population.
“And speaking of reading populations,” Duke said, “how was Shelby’s event last night?”
She’d wondered if he was going to bring it up. “I wish you’d been there. I really let her have it.”
Duke’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”
Before she could fill him in, Gene Hobart, owner of the hardware store, tapped his mic from his seat at the front table. Gene was in his sixties, with gray hair and a beard, and wore round, wire-rimmed glasses. “This meeting is called to order.”
The chatter in the room fell to a murmur and then dropped off completely.
“Welcome, everyone. We have a lot to get to and I know everyone wants to enjoy the day so without further ado...” He shuffled some papers in front of him. “We have one outstanding vote from the last meeting: parade applications. Judy, can you please read the names of our applicants?”
Judy, an art gallerist who wore her strawberry blond hair in a long braid, read a list of local businesses everyone recognized. Someone in the second row stood and said, “I move to approve all the applications as a whole.”
After a pause, Judy said, “I second that motion.” And then it was passed unanimously.
Hunter checked her phone. At that rate, she might be able to meet up with Colleen for brunch.
“One more bit of follow-up from last month: we do have an applicant for the short-term lease at 629 Commercial.” He adjusted his wire-framed glasses and again consulted his paperwork. “It’s a Boston company looking for a seasonal outpost: Hendrik’s Books.”
Hunter and Duke shared a glance. A new bookstore in town? Colleen was going to flip—and for good reason. Hendrik’s Books was a huge chain in Boston and Rhode Island. Why would they bother with a place as out-of-the way as Provincetown? There were more convenient places on the Cape.
“I’ll handle this,” he whispered, then stood up. “We already have Land’s End Books. The priority should be supportingthatbusiness. I don’t think another bookstore is a good use of that space.”
Hunter pulled out her phone and mapped the address of the proposed new bookstore: 629 Commercial—formerly a store where people bought clothes that said things like It’s Better on Cape Cod—was only a half mile away from Land’s End.
Across the room, Justin Lombardo stood as well. Justin was tall with dark hair and cheekbones that could cut glass. Everyone turned to look at him, because, well, no one passed up an excuse to stare at Justin Lombardo. No one except Shelby Archer, who’d been selfish enough to break up with him.
“Actually, I think it’s a perfectly reasonable use of that space,” Justin said. “We have more than one coffee shop, more than one candy store. More than one Italian restaurant. There’s no reason to reject an applicant with solid financials and great name recognition.”
He sat back down. Murmurs broke out, and Gene Hobart called for everyone to settle down.
“For the record, I agree with Mr. Lombardo,” Gene said. “But let’s take a vote. Everyone who’s for the Hendrik’s outpost, raise your hand.”
Hunter and Duke glanced around the room as hands shot up.
“And everyone who opposes?”
Hunter, Duke, and someone from the family who owned the boatyard raised their hands.
“The ayes have it,” Gene said.
