At the front of the cottage was a modest half-bath with a pedestal sink, and the only shower was outdoors. No matter, it was on the side of the house with a water view. There was just one bedroom, which narrowly fit the queen bed and antique dresser squeezed into it, but its window was wide and opened to the lake breeze and hillside greenery. The rest of the cottage was open-concept. The pine-paneled walls were painted white, and there was just enough room for a downy sofa in front of a fieldstone fireplace. But what the cottage lacked in newness andsize, it more than made up for in character and seasonal charm. The backside of her rental overlooked the lake through a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, and when Ginny stood in its center, she realized she was ensconced in blue: everywhere was water and sky. An itty-bitty deck with room for two Adirondack chairs and a charcoal grill lay outside a set of French doors, which were the first thing Ginny drew open on the night she arrived. Immediately, a cool gush of lake air filled the cottage, and Ginny hurried from window to window, sliding them up, letting the outside in. When she was done, she unpacked her two suitcases, unloaded into the antique fridge the three bags of groceries she’d purchased, and went to the back bedroom to change. She shed her jeans and slipped into a pair of cutoff jeans and walked barefoot to the kitchen, where she grabbed a beer, cracked it open, and went out to the deck. The lakeside was wooded with evergreen trees, and she tipped her head back and inhaled the pine scent. Somewhere across the water, a motorboat hummed and children laughed.Summer perfection,Ginny thought. Spartan and simple, like a new beginning should be.
In the days since her arrival, she’d not had much time to spend at the cottage, but already the space was feeling like her own. Most of her time was spent visiting her parents. Her father was home from the hospital, taking it easy. Ginny had prepared herself for what he might look like the first time she saw him, but to her relief, he was surprisingly chipper.
“I’m not dead,” he said when she walked into his bedroom and burst into tears.
“If anyone’s going down, it’s going to beme.Trying to take care ofhim,” her mother countered. It was good to see they were engaged in their usual banter, even if her dad did look a little pale.
“You look good,” Ginny told him, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“I’m just fine,” he insisted. “Now that I’ve laid eyes on you. I hear your mother is putting you to work.”
“Well, it’s the only work I have at the moment,” she said bashfully. She wasn’t sure who was helping whom with this new arrangement.
“Nonsense,” her dad said, squeezing her hand. “You’ll be flying the coop before we know it. I’ll be better in no time. Don’t let us hold you back, you hear?”
She appreciated her parents’ belief in her, but honestly, working at their real estate firm was the only gig she had going. It was an oddly unsettling feeling, being home at her age without a job or place to call her own.
After, her mother had heated the teakettle and called her into the kitchen. “Business isn’t what it used to be for our agency,” she shared in a hushed tone. “I don’t want him worrying about it, but I have to say it’s a good thing you’re here. Think you’re ready to start sooner than later?”
The real estate market in Saybrook was booming, Ginny discovered the next day. Despite that, her parents’ agency was struggling. That morning she rose early, went for a quick jog up the lake road, showered, and got into the office all before eight o’clock. Sheila was already at her desk scrolling through listings. “Oh honey, am I glad to see you.”
“I hear it’s a seller’s market,” Ginny said, after giving Sheila a hug hello. “Big difference from the last time I was home.”
Saybrook had always had a unique market, being a small town not too far from New York City. The good school system and proximity to the city helped, but so did the sense of privacy for artists and professionals looking to raise families or live simply amid the bucolic charm. But inventory was limited, and themarket could be slow. Now, according to her mother, properties were flying faster than the agency could list them. “Why the uptick?” Ginny asked, helping herself to a cup of coffee and coming to sit on the edge of Sheila’s desk.
“Politics and policies. This past year, the town switched from two- to four-acre zoning as part of the Land Conservation Board’s initiative. Which would limit new construction and sales of smaller lots. So people rushed for permits to grandfather their lots in ahead of time, and since then we’ve had a bit of a building boom.”
“Huh.” Ginny had read some of the local news articles her mother had sent her the links to, but hadn’t thought too deeply about it. “So, I guess that’s driving prices up a bit?”
Sheila shook her head. “Or driving locals out, depending how you look at it. People want to subdivide while they still can, and protect the value of their real estate. Now they need four acres to build, and that’s too pricey for many.”
For the New Yorkers coming into the area, it probably wasn’t an issue. But Ginny imagined for the many locals who’d been born and raised here on family farms or large parcels of land, it meant something different. “Are the old-timers upset?” Saybrook was a harmonious town, but there was no denying the polite divide between lifelong residents who could trace their family’s town history back several generations and the newcomers moving in.
“Up in arms, some of them.”
Ginny could understand it. Her mind flashed back to Wendell. She wondered where he stood on the matter. “But Feldman Agency is struggling.”
Sheila shrugged. “It’s true. The other agencies in town seem to snag the bigger listings. I guess you could say our marketing strategies are a little old-fashioned. And the three of us are, too.”She winked at Ginny. “But with you back, we’ll have some young blood.”
Ginny had long suspected her parents were a little behind the times in terms of social media and marketing, and as she looked around the office at the dated equipment and computers, she could see why. First thing, she’d need to take a look at their website and listings.
But Sheila had other matters she wanted to catch up on. “So how are you, honey? I was sorry to hear you called your engagement off.”
The mention of the broken engagement caused Ginny’s cheeks to flush, though it was nothing to be ashamed of, and it had been her decision. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to sound like she meant it. What she did not share with Sheila was that she still had trouble sleeping. That even though her new cottage was cute and cozy, it was not hers, and it was temporary. Ginny had always been a planner; she did not like when plans fell apart, even if they were for the best. “Change is good,” she lied.
Sheila wasn’t buying it. “Well, you’re finally back home, and your parents couldn’t be more thrilled. They’ve missed you, honey. We all have.”
A small wave of guilt rose up in her. For years Ginny had been too busy to come home, or so she’d said. Holidays slipped by, then whole years did. Saybrook was too far. Work was too demanding. She and Thomas had limited vacation time. The reasons were plentiful. A handful of times she’d returned home, but she’d always kept the visits short. Occasionally, her parents had flown out to Chicago to spend the odd Christmas or Thanksgiving, but it was never the same, and she knew they didn’t understand why she stayed away. After a while, Ginny forgot; but after seeing Wendell in town the other night, she was beginning to be reminded.
Ever since, she’d been unable to stop thinking about him. Wendell was a part of her past that she’d tried to keep there, but at one time he’d been the most important person in her life.
Many in Saybrook thought their years began as high school sweethearts, but they were wrong. Back then she had eyes only for Wendell’s best friend, Evan. Evan was popular and outgoing, unlike Wendell, who was just as well liked but shy.
Dating Evan was exciting at first, but about a year in, Ginny came to realize it was Wendell whom she always ended up with. At parties Evan would disappear with friends to do keg stands, leaving her to the side. On nights when she tired of Evan’s flirting with other girls, she’d find Wendell in a quiet corner and pour her heart out. He’d listen, careful not to badmouth his friend but always finding a way to switch the subject or say something to make her laugh. It was Wendell who shared her honors classes, not Evan, who skated by on charm over intellect. Once in AP chemistry, when learning about exothermic reactions using marshmallows, she overheated hers. When it blew up, covering Wendell’s face in hot marshmallow, he didn’t get upset or even embarrassed. Instead, he licked his lips and declared, “I like mine a little less toasted.” By senior year, it became clear that Wendell might have had a little crush on her. For her part, Ginny didn’t want to admit that her feelings for him were also changing.
But there was one winter night when she couldn’t ignore her feelings anymore. New Year’s Eve of senior year, they all went to Kerry Grove’s party. The whole school seemed to be there, and everyone was wasted. Ginny, who didn’t usually have more than one or two drinks, was handed a tall glass of spiked Hawaiian punch. She was halfway across the kitchen to go look for Evan when she felt herlimbs start to go numb and her head spin. She went outside to try to sober up in the cold air. There, on the front steps, she found Jake Wilson having a smoke. When he finished his cigarette, he turned to her, staring.
“What?” she asked, gripping the railing for balance. She was starting to get nauseated and wonder where the nearest bathroom was.
