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There’s no fight left in me. I step back, drag a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry I screwed up. Is he upset?”
“He went out on the boat with Lawrence, he’s fine.”
“When will they be back?”
She looks at her phone. “Around eleven, so you’ve got an hour.”
“Wait,” I say as she turns to go.
“It’s fine. I told him I made a mistake, that you were coming for lunch not breakfast.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“So you’ll be there?”
I hate that she’s asking me, but I’ve got no choice but to suck it up because I deserve it. “I’ll be there.” I’d do anything to turn the clock back a few hours, to ease the tension between us. “Charlotte, we’re good?”
She’s got one hand on the doorknob when her eyes trail back down the hallway that leads to the bedroom. “Yeah, perfect.”
* * *
Charlotte
Stupid girl
That’s the reflex, the first thought that pops into my head when I catch my reflection in the plate glass window of the deli case. I give myself a mental slap and straighten my shoulders. Screw that noise—I don’t lob insults at other people for no good reason so I’m sure as hell not going to do it to myself. Standing in line at the grocery store, I’m surprised when I have to stifle a giggle moments later, suddenly struck by the absurdity of that cheesy ringtone and Simon’s look of utter humiliation. And then the emotional rollercoaster shifts right back into gear, because the thought of someone being perfect in his eyes—someone who is not me—weighs like a stone in my heart.
“Charlotte?” Leena Karvonen is standing in line behind me. I cringe just a little, knowing she’s seeing me at my worst. “How are you?”
I used to refer to Leena as the president of the welcoming committee. She’s the one who called me a slut when my pregnancy first started to show. I did hate the bitch back then, but time has lessened the sting of words that once had the power to cut me deep. You don’t forget, but you can move past it. That’s how it is with Leena. We’re not friends, and she’s never acknowledged or apologized for the dig, but she’s retracted her claws and shown me a better side of herself over time. Basically, I’m over it.
I do my best to shake the morning off, but a half-hearted smile is the best I can offer. “I’m good, Leena. What’s new?”
“Getting ready for the season, same as everyone else.”
“Are you getting a lot of bookings?”
“Busier every year. We’re fully booked for July and the first half of August.”
“Good on you.”
“Have to take it while you can get it, right?” She glances down at the baby formula and diapers in her cart. I imagine the winters are tough on people like her. No sane person is looking to vacation up here once the winds start howling and the snow starts up. Leena cocks her head to the side. “I saw Lawrence the other day. He’s looking better. How’s it going?”
“We’re all doing better. Thanks for asking.”
“My mother said Janelle left Lawrence the house?”
Here we go. No hesitation, she just dives right in and asks about my personal business. And why does she even ask? As usual, Leena’s intel is on point. “She did, that’s correct.”
“So are you and the baby leaving?”
“No, it’s not like that. We’re here for the summer and then heading back downstate for school in September.”
I’m just stating the facts, but I can see the mention of me leaving for school has wounded her. Leena was more than just a smart-mouth, she was a smart girl from what I remember. Probably had dreams of going to college herself. But she stayed back to help her family, and from what I’m told, Leena and her husband have done a great job taking over the management of her parents’ bed and breakfast. I smile and toss her the chocolate bar I was contemplating buying for myself, needing something to soothe my achy heart. “You could probably teach a class on small business management down at the U.”
She catches it on the fly and laughs. “I’d scare them all off.” But you know she likes what she’s doing from the smile on her face. “It’s only for people who enjoy running on no sleep, fretting over making payroll every month, and plastering a smile on their face when dealing with uppity trolls.” She opens the candy and breaks off a small piece. “Some Gwenyth Paltrow wannabee asked me if our linens were organic on the phone the other day. Can you believe that shit?”
I laugh at the name used to reference outsiders. “Easy now, you’re talking to a troll.”
