Randall got up and reached for his jacket.“Let me know what you decide.”He opened the door and beamed at them as a way to say “Get out of here, please.”One after another, the Harper sisters gathered their coats and stepped into the chill of the early evening.Randall locked up behind them, slid his keys into his pocket, and wished them well.“We’ll talk soon, I’m sure,” he said, before striding toward the parking lot to fetch his glossy sports car.None of the sisters knew what to say.A wickedly sharp blast of wind swept between them.Celia felt the cold deep in her bones.
ChapterThree
It was five o’clock on a blustery mid-May evening when Landon Brooks stood on the sidewalk in front of his son Isaac’s girlfriend’s house, waiting, his heavy coat pressed hard against him by sharp Atlantic winds.Beyond the glorious green Victorian, he could see the white-capped ocean churning, a backdrop that only underscored the quiet mockery of the house itself.Its grandeur was a clear testament to the vast wealth of Addison Smith’s parents and an unspoken comparison to his own meager means.
When Isaac had first told him he was dating Addison—the Smith girl, daughter of the obscenely wealthy man who owned the bank and much of Bluebell Cove along with it—a dull pang of dread had sounded in Landon’s gut.Now, Isaac will see what a loser I am.He’d crushed the thought as quickly as it came, but the bitter aftertaste lingered.I never wanted to be wealthy, he reminded himself.I wanted to make a difference.
But it felt like a pathetic thought, especially as he stood here, in front of the massive house.
He’d known Addison’s father back in high school.Landon remembered the wealth that had beamed off him as he’d sauntered through the halls of their school.Landon remembered how his voice had boomed with a confidence born of generational wealth.
Landon recalled how Celia’s eyes had followed him.
Five minutes after he’d promised he would meet his father, Isaac appeared on the porch, where he turned to kiss Addison goodbye before pounding down the steps and giving Landon a half eye roll.“I know, I know,” Isaac said, pulling his hat low over his ears.
“What do you know?”Landon was careful to keep his tone light.
“I know I’m late,” Isaac said.“But it was only five minutes, and Addison wanted to show me this insane video.I mean, it was wild.”
Landon had tried his best to keep his children from the harms and follies of internet life, but this, deep in the twenty-first century, was a battle he’d lost long ago.As they walked toward his electric vehicle down the block (one of the only EVs in the town of Bluebell Cove), Isaac recounted all the videos he’d watched with Addison.He included his desire to record his own and post them online.To this, Landon was continually resistant.
“You’re fifteen, man,” Landon said, buckling his seat belt and turning to look at his eldest son.“You don’t want to put your face all over the internet yet.Trust me.”
Isaac rolled his eyes again.“We want to make films, Dad.Like we’re artists.”
“You can make films,” Landon assured him.“You can show them to me, your sister, and all your friends.But don’t put yourself at the mercy of the internet.”Landon was terrified for his children's safety and yearned for as much privacy as they could have in a modern world.
Isaac reminded his father of what he’d already told him.At least three kids at Bluebell High School made thousands of dollars per year making online video content.
“Back when I was your age,” Landon began, “we worked at the bowling alley or the ice cream shop or the burger place or the swimming pool.”
“And what was your hourly wage?”Isaac scoffed.“Thirty cents?”
Landon barked with laughter and continued to drive down Main Street, back toward the little three-bedroom that he, Isaac, and Mallory shared.Mallory had a friend over to study algebra, and he’d left them in the kitchen with bowls of macaroni and cheese, screaming the lyrics to the latest Sabrina Carpenter song.He had a hunch that the kitchen would be in shambles when he returned, the algebra books untouched.Sometimes being a single father of two felt like juggling numerous plates, only to let some crash to the floor.
At a stoplight near the old movie theater, Landon pressed the brakes, nodded along to something Isaac was complaining about, something social media-related, and watched as a group of women crossed the road, their faces red and their eyes snapping, as though they were in the midst of an argument.One of them, he realized, was Ivy Harper, a forty-year-old woman who’d lost her husband and was a widow, just as Landon was a widower.He felt a kinship with her and felt his heart swell with memory of what they’d both lost—their spouses.The ones who were meant to walk the path of life by our side, he thought.
But a split-second later, he realized that the three other women Ivy was with weren’t strangers to him, not necessarily.He had grown up with them.There was Wren Harper, the baby of the Harper family, who now ripped around midway through the crosswalk and said something that seemed scathing to Juliet, the second-youngest and the most traditionally beautiful.Behind Juliet, Ivy threw up her hands and continued to walk.But the woman behind her, the slowest of the group of four, remained quiet, her face drawn, as though she couldn’t manage to argue or calm anyone down.
To Landon’s tremendous surprise, it was Celia.Celia Harper.
“Dad?”Isaac called, annoyed.“Dad, the light’s green.”
Landon felt his mind electrify again.As soon as Celia and her sisters reached the sidewalk, he pressed the pedal and purred through the intersection.His blood pressure skyrocketed.Isaac continued talking about social media and Addison’s belief that they could be internet stars, but Landon didn’t have the energy to keep up.He parked in the garage, got out, and walked into the kitchen to find Mallory and her friend belting the same Sabrina Carpenter song as before, as though they couldn’t get enough of it.
“Girls!”he called behind him as he strode toward the study.“Algebra!Please!I’m begging you!”
Landon perched on his desk chair, opened his laptop, and pulled up social media, his heart pounding.He didn’t have an account, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to stalk.He typed “Celia Harper” and waited for her profile to appear.These were strange times indeed.It was twenty-four years almost to the day since Landon had last seen Celia Harper.
“College doesn’t start till autumn,” Landon remembered telling Celia then, a day or two before their high school graduation, his throat swelling with pain.But she’d scoffed at him and said there was no way she was sticking around Bluebell Cove.
“I’m never coming back,” she’d told him.“High school is over, and I’m so done with this place.”
She hadn’t even come to graduation.She’d picked up her diploma and skipped town.
In the years after graduation, Landon often considered what he could have said to make her stay or at least visit more often.I’m in love with you, he imagined.We belong together.But Landon hadn’t exactly been the Casanova his own son, Isaac, now was.Girls hadn’t fawned over him.They hadn’t yearned for him to ask them to the dance; they hadn’t begged for his attention.He and Celia had been closer than close, absolute best friends who’d told one another everything.It had occurred to him in college that when girls told you everything and called you their “best friend,” it didn’t mean they wanted anything romantic with you.He’d had to learn how to be colder, more aloof.After that, women began to fall in love with him.He couldn’t believe it.
Celia Harper’s profile picture featured her and a young woman who looked almost exactly like her.Her daughter, Landon guessed.They were seated at a table that glowed with sunlight, wearing matching, toothy grins.Celia had captioned it:Breakfast date with my Soph.She’s off to college and about to break my heart!Landon clicked through to the next profile picture.He found a more professional image of Celia, wearing a skirt and a suit jacket plus a “journalist” badge for an environmentalist conference held near Washington, DC.As a marine biologist himself, Landon had wanted to attend the conference but hadn’t been able to when Mallory had come down with the flu.We could have run into one another there, he thought, his palms slick with sweat.I wonder what we would have said to each other.
