Her eyes drift over to me, guilt swirling in them.
Not now. Don’t feel this way now, right when you’re starting to actually forgive me.
January scoffs. “What are you talking about? She’d be so happy you’re fixing up this house and putting so much work into it every day to make it perfect. She would love how far you’ve come! And you two both being back here in CoconutBeach, actually getting along like a family should? They would have been over the moon about that.”
Summer and I stare at each other, the seconds crawling by. Her eyes grow sadder with each passing moment. A cramp starts forming in my stomach.
Finally, I stand. “Well, thanks for stopping by with the cake. I can’t wait to dig into it.”
“Sure, sure. Let’s go see the house then!” January stands, smiling warmly at me as she makes her way toward the back door.
Summer crosses her arms over her stomach, and we follow behind our neighbor into the home. Through the back door, there’s plastic tarp taped up over all the new windows. The walls have been painted a warm white in the living room. Summer chose all the colors, and I’m truly amazed at how sharp her eye for design is. She loves warmth and natural elements, and already, the house feels inviting.
The hewn wood beams are partially covered by painter’s tape and paper, but they stretch across the tall ceiling. The large, brand-new sliding glass door offers an incredible view of Sunrise Beach and the lighthouse down the beach.
“Wow, these cabinets are incredible,” January remarks, brushing her fingers over the carved wooden handle of one.
Summer beams. “Aren’t they? It’s my favorite detail in the kitchen.”
The kitchen has soft cream marble countertops with light gray veins. The dark wood-stained cabinets have a vintage feel to them with the unique patterns of palm trees, hydrangeas, suns, waves, and surfboards carved along each handle.
There are two open shelves stretching across one wall in the same color wood, and the upper cabinets are painted pale yellow with frosted glass on the front of the doors. The large white farmhouse sink has a champagne bronze faucet and awindow partially overlooking what will be the side walkway and a flower garden.
January does her own exploring with Summer trailing behind as they go look through the office, the two bedrooms downstairs, and the two bathrooms. January goes on and on about how much she loves the terra-cotta tiles in the laundry room before we all make our way upstairs.
“There are four bedrooms up here and a loft area. Originally, there was no balcony, but thankfully, my mom insisted on it with the new building permit, and they added it on. The view is incredible, and it’s attached to both of the master suites.”
“Two master suites? That’s perfect! One for each of you.”
January is a sweet old lady, but I wish she’d stop making comments like that. Summer nods but avoids making eye contact with me.
We look through the rest of the rooms, which are only half painted. The biggest bathroom is my favorite since it has a claw-foot tub overlooking the ocean and a scalloped-tile shower with a full glass door. I keep picturing myself watching Summer rinse off after a day on the beach.
Judging by her reaction today, she’s never letting that happen.
January gasps when she steps out onto the brand-new upper deck and sees the turquoise ocean out the back door. We have an incredible view of the lighthouse, miles down Sunrise Beach, and we can even see the pier in the distance. The view itself is worth millions.
“So, what’s the plan? I can only imagine how much profit this place will bring in. You could rent it out half the year.”
Summer sighs, looking out over the water. “We’re selling it.”
I stare at her profile, but she doesn’t look at me.
January smirks. “If you say so. Lots of the billionaires who vacation here would jump on this one. You kids have done agreat job.” She pats Summer’s arm. “And your mother would be proud of you—don’t forget it. She wants you to be happy.”
She smiles warmly at me before walking toward the stairs. I’m not sure why she’s talking about Clara in present tense.
I take her elbow, guiding her down the stairs. She lets me help her until we reach the bottom step. She looks up at me, craning her neck back because of our height difference.
“You know, that girl is a lot like Clara. She overthinks things, but at the end of the day, she just needs time to process. Then she usually comes to her senses and realizes it’s all gonna be okay.”
She smiles as we both walk toward the back porch. She throws her hand up in a wave. “Later, handsome.”
I watch her until she’s out of sight. When I make it back up the stairs, I see that Summer is still out on the second-story deck, looking out at the ocean. She sighs when I come up to stand beside her, keeping a modest distance of about six inches between us.
“Do you think she’s right?” she asks.
“About?”
