Page 9 of Sunset on the Solstice

“I didn’t know you were like that, Dad,” Kade said.

Shelby wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard him refer to Victor as “Dad” before.

Later, after they’d eaten, Shelby helped her mother clean the plates and bowls and serving spoons in the kitchen. The windows were open, and they could hear Victor playing the accordion again, while Grandma Esme and Lily chatted about all things matchmaking. Shelby winced, praying that Lily wouldn’t talk about Shelby’s failed attempts.

She could feel her mother’s eyes on her, studying her with a quiet intensity.

“How’s your summer going, honey?” Rebecca asked finally, as though she couldn’t resist.

Shelby told herself to keep her voice light and airy. “It’s going great!”

“Yeah?” Rebecca dried a dish and set it aside. “Have you met anyone on the island? Any new friends or…”

“I’ve been so busy at the Sutton Book Club,” Shelby said. “And I’ve read more this summer than I ever have, I think. The Goldfinch was incredible. You have to read it.”

“I’ll try to get to it.” Rebecca’s eyes echoed their worry. “Honey, you know how proud I am of you, right?”

Shelby flipped her hair behind her shoulders. “Mom, you don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to. I want to say how proud I am. And also to tell you…” Rebecca trailed off. “Life is really for living, honey. It is. I hope you won’t be too afraid to open your heart.”

Shelby rolled her eyes into the back of her head. It was clear, now, that Lily had told their mother everything. She’d told her how upset Shelby was about dating, about how doomed she was in the world of romance. Shelby was not only pathetic. Now, her mother thought so, too.

Shelby told herself to be strong in the face of this. She told herself to say something like, Guys are a waste of time, Mom. But instead, tears bubbled up from the depths of her, and she found herself sobbing on her mother’s shoulder. Pathetic!

“I just can’t connect to people,” Shelby said between gasps. “I don’t know how to do it.”

“Nobody knows how to do it, honey,” Rebecca said gently. “But it’s something you get better at with practice. I promise you that. But remember, there is no timeline in this life. You can meet and date and break up with many, many guys before you find the one you want to spend your life with. I mean, look at our family. Your grandma and grandpa were divorced for years and have now gotten back together! I lost your father, which nearly killed me, but I met Ben, who’s been such a godsend, not only to me, but to the rest of our family, too. And your Aunt Valerie, and your Aunt Bethany, they’ve all found happiness later in her life.”

Shelby closed her eyes. She felt faced with many years of loneliness and regret.

“I don’t want you to be afraid,” Rebecca said gently.

“I’m fine,” Shelby told her mother, but of course they both knew she was not.

Four days later, Shelby was alone at the Sutton Book Club, filing away books that Nantucketers had returned. It was a beautiful day outside, eighty-two degrees and sunny, so she didn’t expect many people to come in today. This would give Shelby plenty of time to work on her novel, which she kept in a notebook tucked away in her Sutton Book Club desk.

When the bell jangled over the door, Shelby didn’t turn around when she said, “Good afternoon! Welcome to the Sutton Book Club.” She half-expected it to be Grandma Esme, here to tell Shelby to close up for the day and get to the beach.

“Hi.” A man’s sturdy voice filled the library.

A shiver went down Shelby’s spine. She set a stack of books on a nearby table and turned to find one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen up close. With black hair and black eyes and six feet and four inches of stature, he towered over the shelves, looking as though he’d stepped out of the pages of one of the romance novels in the section by the wall.

“Hi,” Shelby said. “Can I help you with something?”

“Is this just a library?” the man asked. “Or can you buy books, too?”

“We’re both,” Shelby said. “The books over there are all for sale, both used and brand-new. Are you looking for something special?” She guessed he was a tourist passing through, which meant he had to buy a book rather than borrow one.

“Honestly, I lost my copy of Moby Dick and need to replace it as soon as possible,” the man said, smiling sheepishly.

Shelby laughed. “We have six different versions. Over here.” She led him to an area of the Sutton Book Club that dealt exclusively with whaling, which had previously been the number-one source of income on the island of Nantucket. The history was dense and dramatic, with countless deaths and missing men.

“How do I choose which copy I want?” The man crossed his arms and shook his head, as though the task were too arduous.

“It’s tough,” she said. “But I’d go with something more classic.” She pointed at the one with only the outline of a whale, in a Gothic-looking font that spelled out the book’s name.

“Good idea.” The man picked it up, feeling the texture of the spine with his fingertips.