Pulling into the parking lot of the Riverside, I had to admit that the old place had been spectacularly restored. It was a sprawling resort now, but I noted that somehow, the restoration had managed to retain a certain charm and nostalgia, calling back to years past. When I drove the car around to the shaded valet drop-off area, I could see the river and the boat ramp there next to the dock. A large luxury boat floated there, making me wonder if one of my more successful classmates had chosen to arrive via water instead of automobile.
Thanks to the admirable efficiency of the valet drivers, bell staff and front desk agents, I was walking into my hotel room within ten minutes, stepping aside as the bellman wheeled in my suitcase.
“Is this your first visit to the Cove, or are you here for the reunion?” he inquired, eyeing me curiously.
“I came for the reunion, but I haven’t been back to Crystal Cove in a very long time. So I sort of feel like a stranger.”
“Yeah, I bet a lot has changed since you graduated, huh?”
The kid couldn’t have been more than nineteen, I mused. Maybe even younger.
“I almost didn’t recognize Beach Street,” I agreed. “And everything seems a little busier. More people are around than what I remember from when I was growing up here.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, you know, since the Holts opened the Riverside and the Hawthorne House, tourism has picked up quite a bit. And now they’ve bought that old vineyard outside town, so I guess we’ll have even more people visiting the Cove once that’s open.” He didn’t sound unhappy about that turn of events.
“Doesn’t it bother you, all these outsiders on the beach and taking up space in the local restaurants and stores?”
“Nah.” He shrugged. “More people coming to the Cove means more jobs and more money for those of us who stay here. I just graduated in May, and a bunch of us decided to stick around and work here instead of moving away to find jobs. I think that’s a good thing.”
“Well, good luck.” I shook the young man’s hand, discreetly passing him a five-dollar bill. “Thanks for your help.”
“Hey, thanks.” Grinning, he tucked the bill into his pocket. “Have fun at your reunion. I hope you have a great time catching up with all your old friends.”
After the bellman had gone on his way whistling, I pulled out a pair of khakis and a short-sleeved button-up shirt, hanging them up to let the wrinkles out as I unpacked my toiletries. I decided to be optimistic and leave everything else in the suitcase for now in the hopes that I could make an early get-away tomorrow morning.
Dropping onto the end of the king-sized bed, I picked up the television remote and began to channel surf. I knew I was dragging my feet; the longer I lingered here in the quiet of my room, the less time I had to spend surrounded by people I hadn’t enjoyed thirty-five years ago and didn’t anticipate liking now. I wondered if anyone would recognize me, or if they’d even remember who I was. I’d never been the most popular kid in school, or even marginally part of the in-crowd. I’d hung out with a couple of guys in classes and at lunch, but we weren’t friends—not really. The only person with whom I’d connected at Crystal Cove High was?—
I slammed the brakes on my wandering mind before I could even think her name. I’d ventured a glance at the list of attending 1989 graduates on the website before I left Burton, and she wasn’t included. My reaction had been an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. Seeing her with Ryan would destroy me, even after all these years, but on the other hand, not seeing her at all . . .
“. . . is for the best,” I muttered aloud, jabbing my finger onto the button to change the channel yet again. “I don’t have anything to say to her. And she sure as hell made it clear she’s had nothing to say to me for over three decades.”
And I was being ridiculous, acting like nothing was going to be different with my classmates after thirty-five years. We weren’t children anymore, we weren’t petty teenagers who were so insecure that we had to treat other people badly in order to make ourselves feel better. Those old roles we’d once filled—the jocks, the cheerleaders, the popular crowd, the nerds—who cared about that anymore? We’d grown up and become wiser. I wasn’t the earnest dude mooning around after the most beautiful girl in school; I was an extremely successful businessman who owned a company and had a wonderful son.
Now I just had to walk out there like the badass guy I was, find Jared Brady, and talk him into selling the stupid parcel of land that was holding up our next project.
Then I could return home and go on pretending that Crystal Cove had fallen into the ocean.
I hadto admit to myself that if I had to be back in the Cove at this reunion, the Riverside Hotel was a pretty sweet place to stay—and to survive seeing my classmates again. Whoever had restored the place had somehow managed to preserve the sense of history and timeless hospitality even while ensuring that everything was functional. I admired the beautiful woodwork and vintage wallpaper as I made my way down the corridor toward the lobby, where I was supposed to check-in for the reunion and pick up my Fun Packet.
“Fun Packet,” I snorted softly to myself. “That sounds about right. It’s just what I’d expect from the people who planned this nightmare. Bet they never left the Cove. They probably just live for this kind of thing, where they can go back to living the glory days?—”
“Nash?”
I turned in the direction of the soft voice, guiltily hoping that whoever was calling me hadn’t overheard my mini-rant.
At first, I didn’t recognize her. She was much thinner than she’d been back in high school, and her hair was totally different. We hadn’t been friends in those days, not in any sense of the word; if we had ever interacted at all it was because we both loved Peyton.
And it was the memory of Peyton that jogged my brain to recall the woman looking up at me now.
“Sheri.” I forced my lips into the rough approximation of a smile. “Hey. How are you?”
Even as I asked the question, I realized that it was stupid because now that I looked closer, I noticed that my former classmate didn’t have any eyelashes and that her brows were sketched on. What I had initially thought was a new hairstyle was actually a wig. And I recognized that lump near her collarbone, hidden beneath her blouse: it was a port catheter, the same kind that Lena had had the whole time I’d known her.
Sheri was quiet for a moment, and I was aware that she saw the dawning realization in my eyes.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’ve seen better days. Better years, even.” Sighing, she shrugged. “How I am is dying, Nash. I’m here for my last hurrah before I go on hospice and wait for the grim reaper to carry me away. Fun times, huh?”
“Jesus, Sheri.” I’d never been a demonstrative guy when it came to friends, and I wasn’t even sure that I would have classified Sheri Wilson as a friend, but that didn’t stop me from reaching down to hug her. “I’m so sorry. That fucking sucks.”
