Holiday In The Hamptons

Inwardly they were as different as the sun and the moon.

“Grams fell. She’s in the hospital.”

“I hadn’t heard.” And that surprised him because wherever he went on this patch of land someone, somewhere, was always keen to fill him in on local gossip. “How bad is it? When did it happen?”

“A couple of days ago. I’m not sure how bad it is, but they won’t let her go home unless someone is there with her. She was knocked unconscious, I believe, and she says she’s a little bruised. I’m off to the hospital as soon as I’ve unpacked.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, but thanks. I’ll be picking her up tomorrow.” She gestured vaguely to the car, a showy red convertible that gleamed in the sunshine.

He glanced at it, thinking that it didn’t seem like something Harriet would drive. On the other hand it had been ten years and a lot changed in ten years, including the fact that she no longer seemed to be shy with him. There was no sign of the stammer that had plagued her teenage years. Fliss had confided in him how difficult it was for her sister, how the moment their father had started shouting, Harriet had been unable to push a single word out of her mouth.

For her sake he was pleased that had changed.

It was partly because he didn’t want to be the one to bring her stammer back that he didn’t question her about Fliss.

“How did she fall?”

“In the garden. It needs work.”

“So you’re here to take care of her. That’s lucky for her. She doesn’t need to worry about being well fed.” He smiled at her. “I still remember those chocolate chip cookies you used to make. If you ever have any spare that need eating, I’m right next door.”

“Cookies?” A look of alarm flickered across her face, and he wondered what he’d said to trigger that reaction.

“You don’t cook anymore?”

“I—yes, of course I cook. But proper food.” She stumbled. “Nutritious—er—things. Are your parents here this summer?”

The question knocked him off balance.

So she didn’t know.

Sadness washed over him. It came and went like the tide over the sand.

The years opened up like a gulf. So many changes. So many life events he and Fliss should have shared and weathered together. Instead they’d done it apart.

“My father died. Ten months ago. Heart attack. No warning. It was very sudden.”

“Oh, Seth—” Her reaction was as spontaneous as it was genuine. Her hand came out and she touched his arm for a few seconds before snatching it back. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s been tough. We’re selling Ocean View.” And he was still getting his head around that, trying to untangle his own wishes from those of his mother. Trying to work out what his father would have wanted him to do. And in a way that was easy. His father would have wanted him to do whatever made his mother happiest.

Which meant he was selling the house.

“That’s why you’re here? Because you need to sell the house?”

“No. I’m here because this is my home.” So that was something else she didn’t know. “I live here.”

“But you said—”

“I bought a house close to Sag Harbor. It’s near the beach and the nature preserve. It needed some work, but it’s nearly finished.”

“You’re saying you’re here permanently?”

Was he imagining it or did he see panic? He had to be imagining it. “Yes. I run Coastal Vets, on the edge of town.”

“Oh. Well, that’s great.” Her tone told him it was anything but great.

He studied her face intently, searching for answers. “How are things with you, Harriet?”

“Good! Fliss and I run a dog-walking business in Manhattan. The Bark Rangers. We’re doing well. A bit too well. Fliss wants to expand—you know what she’s like.”

He didn’t know. Not anymore. But he wanted to. Had she changed? Was she still impulsive? Did she still kick her shoes off at every opportunity? Did she still hide her feelings?

He had an urge to ask a million questions but held himself back.

He was pleased, but not at all surprised, that Fliss had set up and was running a successful business.

“So if your grandmother has fallen, you’re going to be here for a while. How will Fliss manage the business without you?”

“We have an army of reliable dog walkers, and I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“So we’re going to be neighbors. I’d like to help in any way I can.”

The look of panic was back. “That’s not necessary! I’m sure we’ll be fine, and I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s no bother. Everyone in my family is fond of your grandmother, myself included. She brings Charlie to the clinic for checks, as do all her friends. And she has many. She’s been part of this community as long as any of us can remember. My mother would never forgive me if I didn’t help out.” He looked at her for a long moment and decided to test a theory. “How is Fliss?”

“Fliss? She’s so happy. Doing really well. She’s built the business up from nothing, and now she’s so busy she barely has time to breathe. It’s an exciting time. All good.”

It didn’t tell him anything he wanted to know, but that was because he hadn’t asked the right questions, of course. Is she seeing someone? Is she married? Why did she get as far as the door of the vet clinic and then turn around? Why is she avoiding me?

Those were the questions he’d wanted to ask.

But he’d got one thing cleared up.

An important thing.

“I’d better go. The clinic opens in an hour and there’s always a crowd at this time of year.” He whistled to Lulu. “We’ll be seeing you around, Harriet.”

“Looking forward to it.” Her tone told him she wasn’t looking forward to it at all.

He loaded the dog into his truck and drove back toward his house. It was within easy driving distance to the clinic, down a road that was little more than a rough track.

He’d found the house two years before and fallen in love with the location. The property itself had been a little harder to love, and it had taken every day of those two years to transform it into the home he wanted.

With the help of Chase, who had pulled together a team to help both with the design and the construction, he’d knocked down the single-story building and replaced it with a two-story structure with a double-height dining and living area and a wall of glass opening onto the pool.

The house nestled behind dunes that were part of a bird sanctuary, and in the evenings during the renovation he’d often sat on the deck, nursing a beer, watching the gentle sway of the sea grass and listening to the plaintive call of the gulls.

A short drive and he was on the edge of town, but here there was only the whisper of the wind and the rhythmic crash of the ocean. People had been listening to the same sound for centuries, and there was a simplicity to it, a soporific blend of nature that soothed the senses.

His house lacked the palatial feel of his childhood home, and in his opinion, it was all the better for that.

There were no ghosts here, and no memories.

He let Lulu out of the car and stood for a moment, admiring the lines of his new home.

“Got yourself something good here.” The voice came from behind him, and he turned with a smile.

“Chase! I didn’t notice your car.”

“I was right behind you, but you were obviously thinking about something else.”

Not something, someone.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you this week. I thought you were in Manhattan, wheeling and dealing.” He eyed his friend’s board shorts. “You don’t look much like a CEO of a major corporation.”

“What can I say? I’ve discovered the joys of the weekend.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

Chase grinned. “So the weekend has started early.”

“This from a guy who didn’t used to know what the weekend was. Who are you and what have you done with my friend? On second thoughts, don’t answer that. I like this version of you better. I guess that’s what being married has done to you.” Seth closed the car door. “How’s Matilda?”

“Uncomfortable. The heat is bothering her. The baby’s due in four weeks, and I’m working down here from now until it arrives.” He raked his fingers through his hair, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I’m going to be a dad. CEO of a family. Toughest job yet.”

“Funny, because I would have said Matilda was CEO of your family. You’re just staff.”

“You could be right about that.” Chase narrowed his eyes as he studied Seth’s house. “It’s coming along.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to admit I was right about the deck?”

They’d argued about the details by email and in person. “You were right. And I owe you.”

“You’re welcome. And you can pay me in babysitting.”

Seth felt a stab of pain under his ribs. “Not my area of expertise. But if Hero ever needs a vet, I’m your guy.”

“He’s bound to need a vet. That dog has no clue about personal safety, and I can tell you he is no one’s idea of a hero. I keep suggesting Matilda rename him—Liability was my suggestion—but she refuses. He’s too big and strong for her to walk at the moment.” Chase frowned. “I don’t suppose you know of any dog-walking companies around here you can vouch for?”

Seth shook his head and then thought for a moment. “Have you heard of the Bark Rangers?”

“Yes, but they’re in Manhattan. It’s run by the Knight twins, but I’m guessing you already know that. We use them when we’re in town, although I’ve never dared confess that to you before. Not sure if it’s sensitive.” Chase looked at him cautiously. “The name Knight doesn’t exactly come up in conversation these days. Is this a topic we should be avoiding?”

“No. And it so happens I just ran into Harriet.” He paused, wondering how much to say. “Her grandmother fell, so she’s here for a while. I’ll see if she can help you.”

“Matilda is friendly with Harriet, but I haven’t seen either of the twins for ten years. Not since—”

“Not since you were best man at my wedding. You don’t have to tiptoe around, Chase. As you say, it was ten years ago.” Plenty of time to adjust and put it in his rearview mirror. People had dismissed it at the time—too young, too fast—so he hadn’t had to deal with shock or surprise. There had been more than a few knowing nods from folks who thought you could judge a relationship from the outside, as if you could get the measure of a house by peeping in through one window.

“I didn’t know you were still in touch.”

“We’re not.”

“This is the first time you’ve seen Harriet since you broke up? That must have been weird.”

“Yes.” Weird wasn’t the word he would have chosen, but he went with it.

“Maybe it’s easier that it’s just Harriet.”

“Maybe.” Seth didn’t expand on that. “Anyway, she’ll be walking her grandmother’s dog, so I’ll ask her if she’ll walk yours, too.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Chase changed the subject. “So when are you moving in? And, more importantly, when’s the housewarming? Are you here for the Fourth or are you going away?”

“I’m here. Working and on call over the holiday weekend.”

“That’s tough.”

“Honestly? Not really.” Seth rescued Lulu, who had managed to wedge her head in a hedge. “The rest of the family are spending it in Vermont.”

“Having a change.” Chase nodded, understanding. “How’s your mom doing?”

“Considering everything, she’s doing okay. But she wants to sell Ocean View.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

Seth looked at his new home, at the smooth lines, the deck, his view of the dunes. He wouldn’t swap it for anything. So why wasn’t he more motivated to sell the house? “I think it’s the right thing to do, although I’m not sure about the timing.”

“The timing is perfect. It’s summer, the house will show at its best. Trust me on that. I may not know a thing about babies, but I do know about real estate.”

“I wasn’t talking about the timing for the market, more the timing for my mother. I’m worried it’s too soon and that she’ll regret the decision.”

Chase put his hand on Seth’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’ll ask you again—how do you feel about it?”

As always Chase was observant. And sensitive. It was one of the reasons they’d been friends for so long.

“Conflicted.”

“I can imagine.” Chase sighed. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think hanging on to things necessarily eases the pain. Maybe it even makes it worse.”

“Intellectually I know that. Emotionally, I seem to be having trouble with it. We spent every summer there from the year I was born. It feels as if I’m not just selling a house, I’m selling memories. And Mom always loved it here.” He paused as Chase’s phone rang. “You should get that. It might be Matilda.”

“It is Matilda. Damn—” His friend fumbled with the phone and almost dropped it. “What’s wrong, honey? Is it happening? Is it now? What do I need to do? Who do I call?”

Seth watched, amused, as his friend went from calm to agitated. He waited for him to end the call and raised an eyebrow. “Well? Do we need to put the midwife on alert?”

“No. She wanted me to buy peaches from the farm stand. Peaches! Look at me. I’m a wreck. What the hell is wrong with me?” Chase pocketed his phone and shook his head. “I run a successful corporation—”

“—which has nothing to do with delivering babies.”

“True. I’m not good with that stuff. I prefer my problems numerical. If it can’t be analyzed or put on a spreadsheet, I’m clueless.”

“We both know that’s not true. There’s not a job in your company you can’t do.”

“Maybe, but being able to caulk a window isn’t going to help me if the baby comes early. If that happens, I’m going to be calling on you.”

“I’m a vet,” Seth said mildly. “I’ve delivered puppies, kittens, foals and even a camel—”

“A camel?”

“Don’t ask. I’ve never delivered a human, but don’t worry. This baby is not going to come early. First babies never do.”

“You’d better be right about that or I’ll sue you. And then I’ll bring the baby to our poker nights.”

Seth gestured toward the house. “Do you need something to calm your nerves? I haven’t stocked the fridge yet, but I might be able to find a beer.”

“That is tempting, but my pregnant wife wants peaches, so I guess I’d better find her peaches.” He flashed Seth a smile and strolled to his car. “One day this is going to happen to you, Seth Carlyle, and that will wipe that grin off your face. In the meantime, if you could ask Harriet about walking Hero, I’d be grateful.”

Holding his smile in place, Seth bent to give Lulu a belly rub, watching as Chase reversed the car and headed down the lane toward the main road.

Lulu whined and licked his hand, understanding that something wasn’t right.

It was lucky for him Chase wasn’t so perceptive.

And lucky for him Chase needed help with a dog.

He told himself that offering to ask Harriet about dog walking had everything to do with helping his friend, and nothing to do with creating another opportunity to talk to Harriet.

CHAPTER FIVE

SEA BREEZE.

Fliss parked and stared at the house. It hadn’t changed. Same weathered clapboard, same gravel drive that had skinned her knees so many times. Juniper and cypress lined the driveway, and clusters of Rosa rugosa bushes erupted with delicate pink blossoms.

Right now she didn’t feel as if she’d changed much either.

What had happened to her confidence? The grit and drive that had propelled her this far?

She couldn’t stop shaking. Not because of the dog, but because of Seth.

She’d been prepared for everything except bumping into him.

She’d told herself that she’d built it up in her head, but in the end seeing him in person had been worse than she’d imagined. She hadn’t anticipated the powerful jolt of chemistry or the sudden frantic fluttering inside her. It seemed that time could heal a lot of things, but not the strange, indescribable pull that drew her to Seth Carlyle. It would have been easy to dismiss it as sexual attraction. Easy, and incorrect.

None of which explained why she’d been stupid enough to pretend to be Harriet.

Frustrated with herself, she grabbed her small suitcase, retrieved the key from under the flowerpot and let herself in.

Calm descended like a comforting blanket. Apart from the odd occasion when their father had joined them unexpectedly, this was the place she’d always been happiest.

She stood for a moment, drinking in familiarity. The large seascape on the wall had been painted by her grandfather. The basket on the floor, stuffed with boots and flip-flops, had been there forever. There were towels, neatly folded, ready to mop sand and mud from overeager dogs because here, at the beach, there had always been dogs.

It had been a place of noise, chaos, chatter and laughter.

No one had to tiptoe. No one had needed to watch what was said.

Summer in the Hamptons.

She stepped forward, and the planks creaked under her tread. How many times had her grandmother scolded her for running into the house with sandy feet?

She pressed down harder, feeling the wood give a little beneath the pressure. Right there. That was where she and Harriet had hidden their “treasure.” Fliss knew about the loose floorboard because she’d been careful to tiptoe around it whenever she’d sneaked out to meet Seth. Harriet had returned from one of her many trips to the beach, her pockets stuffed with shells and stones rubbed smooth by the ocean. She’d wanted to take them back to the city, as a memory, but they both knew their father would throw them out, so Fliss had found a box and tucked them out of sight under the floorboards.

They were probably still there.

She stared down at the floor, lost in memories of happy times. And, despite everything, there had been happy times. And perhaps those times had been all the happier, even more precious, because of the tough times that surrounded them. The good moments shone brighter because of the dark.

She strolled through the house, and the years fell away. She remembered the camps they’d built, the games of hide-and-seek they’d played, the hours spent splashing in the waves and digging in the sand. In this place, Fliss had seen her twin sister blossom. The tortured, tongue-tied silence that punctuated their days in New York had been replaced by conversation. Reluctant at first. Tentative. A trickle of words. And then the trickle became a steady stream and the stream became a torrent, like a surge of water escaping past an unwanted obstruction. Harriet’s stammer had reappeared only on those rare occasions their father visited.

That was all in the past now.

These days there were no unexpected visits. He stayed out of all their lives.

Pushing aside that thought, Fliss shoved the door closed and walked into the kitchen.

It had all the signs that the occupant had left in a hurry.

A pan lay unwashed on the stove, a carton of milk on the countertop.

Fliss threw the milk away and washed the pan.

Domesticated? She could do that if she had to. And maybe she’d even ask her grandmother for a cooking lesson while she was here. That would surprise Harriet.

She moved through the rest of the house, checking everything. The back door was locked, so presumably whoever had helped her grandmother from the garden had taken the time to secure the house. She went upstairs and checked her grandmother’s bedroom. The window was secure, the bed made.

She wandered past the room her brother, Daniel, had occupied whenever they’d stayed and took the stairs up to the attic room she’d shared with her sister. Instinctively she stepped over the fourth step with its telltale creak, and then realized what she’d done and smiled. She knew a hundred ways to sneak out of this house undetected. She knew which stair would betray her, which window would stick and which door would creak.

She pushed open the door of the bedroom, remembering how she’d oiled the hinges.

Her mother slept like the dead, but had her grandmother known she was sneaking out?

Harriet had known, but she’d never said anything. She’d pretended to be asleep so she wouldn’t have to lie if questioned.

Fliss glanced around the room.

Not much had changed. Two beds were tucked under the slope in the roof so that you had to duck your head before you stood up in the morning. She strolled to the window and gazed down into the garden, noting the offending apple tree with its curved branches and thick trunk. The roots were visible on the surface, as if it was trying to remove itself from ground it had occupied for so long.

And there, beyond the apple tree, was the gate.

She’d oiled that, too, turning it from an alarm to an ally.

From her vantage point high in the house she could see that the path to the beach was overgrown. It didn’t surprise her. No one used the path except the inhabitants of Sea Breeze, and she doubted her grandmother was in the habit of taking the rough sandy trail that led through the sand dunes to the beach.

For a moment she was tempted to kick off her shoes and run down that path as she had as a child, eagerly anticipating the moment when she crested the dunes and saw the rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

Her feet were halfway out of her shoes before she stopped herself.

She needed to stop giving in to impulse and behave responsibly.

She slid her feet back into her shoes and instead rose on tiptoe and leaned her forehead on the cool glass, trying to see past the knotted vegetation that obscured the path to the dunes beyond. She knew every dip and curve of that path.

People said that memories faded in time, but hers hadn’t faded at all.

She could still remember that warm summer night in minute detail, every sound, every color, every touch.

She moved away from the window. What was the point of torturing herself? It was behind her. She should be moving on. And she would have been doing exactly that if she’d just told Seth the truth when she’d met him earlier. A few words, that was all she’d needed to say. Instead she’d pretended to be Harriet.

Why had she done that? Of all the stupid, impulsive—

And she wished she’d known about his father. If she had, she wouldn’t have asked that tactless question about his family. She’d probably hurt him, and she’d already hurt him enough.

And by pretending to be Harriet she hadn’t been able to offer anything more than conventional platitudes. Her twin wouldn’t have understood how close they were, or how much he had admired his father. Fliss understood that. For a fleeting second before he’d hidden it she’d seen the raw pain in his eyes, and she’d ached for him. She’d wanted to wrap him in her arms and offer whatever comfort she could. She wanted to tell him that she understood.

Instead she’d uttered a few meaningless words. And in pretending to be Harriet, all she had done was postpone the moment when she came face-to-face with him as herself.

Now what was she going to do?

The question wasn’t whether she would bump into him again, but when.

Which left her with only two options. Either she carried on pretending to be Harriet, or she confessed all and told him she was Fliss.

That would be both awkward and embarrassing. He’d want to know why she’d pretended to be her sister, and he’d read too much into it.

No, until she could work out a way to extract herself from the lie she’d spun, she’d have to continue the pretense. Which raised the question of what she was going to do about her grandmother.

She’d promised Harriet that she’d tell their grandmother she was Fliss.

And she would. She just had to hope Seth and her grandmother didn’t meet until after she had untangled the mess she’d made.

Why did everything she touched get so complicated?

Frustrated with herself, she flung open windows, letting in the smell of the ocean.