By the timethe last of the guests had said goodbye, the Summer House had settled into its familiar post-party hush. The music was off. The deck lights had been dimmed. The Gulf air blew in from the open sliders, carrying the distant sound of a few more fireworks and laughter from some people on the beach.
Vivien finished the kitchen clean-up with a slow and sure hand, wiping down the counters and putting away the last of the dishes. The Summer House had been home to her for more than four months, and she moved through this kitchen like it was hers and hers alone.
In a sense, it was—hers and Eli’s. All the others came and went.
Some stayed—including Lacey, who would surely be looking for her own place soon, and Jonah, who would probably live downstairs with baby Atlas until he finished culinary school.
Others left. Tessa had moved into a two-unit beach house she co-owned with Dusty Mathers. Eli’s daughter, Meredith, had stayed to recover from her ectopic pregnancy, but would no doubt head back to Atlanta soon.
Crista was here for at least a few weeks. Mom and Jo Ellen had decided to spend the summer in the apartment over the garage. That left Eli, her older brother, the home’s architect. He’d planned to stay here all summer, but then last week, Kate—his main reason for sticking around—had zipped back to Ithaca in something of a hurry.
It remained to be seen if Destin lost its allure for Eli with his new love interest gone. He might return to life in Atlanta, running Acacia Architecture.
With all the comings and goings, the constant change and the multi-generational, two-family vibe, Vivien had somehow become the Summer House anchor. And she couldn’t be happier with that role.
She reached for a dishtowel when she heard footsteps on the deck and a familiar figure appeared in the wide-open sliders.
Finally. She hadn’t been alone with Peter all night…until now.
“Did you clean up that firepit?” she asked, playfully fluttering the dishtowel. “Uncle Artie’s watching from heaven.”
“He’d be proud,” he said, his low and silky voice sliding over her in the quiet of the kitchen. “We met every county regulation and hid all the evidence.”
She laughed, maybe sounding a little nervous, but she tried to remember that she had a thirty-year history with Peter and this sure wasn’t their first July 4th together. Plus, he’d said helovedher…right before she said she wanted to break up.
He stepped into the dimly lit kitchen, his gaze locked on her with that same intentional look she’d seen all night. Like he was respecting her space, but ready to invade it with a word.
It was time to give that word.
“Where’s Eli?” she asked, rooting around for small talk before…the big talk.
“He said he was going to take a walk.” Peter grinned. “Pretty sure that’s code for ‘call Kate.’”
She made a face at the mention of her close friend, still mulling over Kate’s impulsive return to her job at Cornell University’s chemistry lab. “I wish she had stayed for the holiday weekend. We were expecting her for the whole summer. Did Eli tell you what happened?”
He nodded. “Something about a Department of Energy grant renewal?”
“Yeah. They moved up an inspection of the whole EV battery thing she works on in her lab, and she insisted that all the equipment had to be recalibrated and the results demonstrated live,” Vivien explained, parroting Kate’s litany of excuses. “She wanted to do it herself and headed back.”
Peter looked skeptical. “Eli thinks it could have been handled remotely.”
Her heart squeezed. “She did leave in a hurry. But that lab is as much a child to her as her teenagers. Still…”
“Things are progressing with Eli and Kate,” Peter finished. “He thinks she’s scared.”
Vivien considered the many things that the fairly new couple had working against them—and not just the thousand-mile separation between Ithaca and Atlanta.
Her brother, a widower, lived and breathed a vibrant faith in God that few people—even Vivien—could understand. Kate held a PhD in chemistry and based her entire life on science and provable facts. Despite tangible attraction, Eli and Kate’s personal philosophies couldn’t be further apart.
Vivien didn’t want to think that was why her friend took off, but it could have had something to do with it.
“If Cornell doesn’t get this grant, it could jeopardize millions in funding,” she said, wanting that to be the real reason.
Peter nodded, watching her for a beat before speaking.
“Need help?”
“I’m almost done but you can start the dishwasher.” She handed him the bottle of detergent, and he took it and pulled open the dishwasher door.
