Page 14 of The Sandy Page Bookshop

Lucy

What had Jep Parsons been thinking showing up in the rehab hospital like that?

Lucy couldn’t stop replaying his surprise visit.

Her father’s loud confrontation in the hall when Jep showed up, her mother’s basic denial of him being there at all.

Her parents’ reactions could not have been more different.

But it was the effect it had on Ella that had shaken Lucy most. Lucy knew her sister had heard Jep’s voice in the hallway. And his impact on her was undeniable.

Of course no one talked about it. Not after the fact, when Jep had been hauled off by the staff.

Not on the long, silent car ride home where her mother commented endlessly on the scenery and her father stared straight ahead at the road.

When they pulled into the driveway, Lucy thought her head would explode.

So she did something she’d avoided doing all summer.

She waited until they were safe inside, before either of them retreated to their usual corners of the house, before she asked the question. “Mom, Dad—what is the plan with Jep?”

Her father’s head snapped in her direction like he’d been stung by a wasp. Her mother froze on her way to the kitchen.

Lucy took a deep breath. “Ella heard him. Her hands went crazy on the bed. I think she wanted him there.”

“What did you just say?” her father hissed. Lucy flinched. Her father had always been a reserved man, even-tempered and thoughtful. The expression on his face was unrecognizable.

“We do not speak his name in this house,” her father went on, his eyes lighting up like electricity itself was coursing through his limbs. “Not ever!”

Her mother came to her defense. “Martin, please. She didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Didn’t mean anything?” He stared wildly between them and Lucy wished she had kept her mouth shut.

His silent rage was better than this. “You two want to pretend this is not his fault? That he did not almost kill our daughter? That boy is a monster . I hope the next time we see him will be in court.”

Every fiber in her being told Lucy to let it go, but her mind flashed back to the squeeze of Ella’s fingers around her own.

The desperation in her green eyes. Her hand tingled at the memory.

“Dad, I know it was Jep’s fault. But Ella reacted to him.

She knew he was there. It was like she needed him. ”

“Needed him? She’s afraid of him!” her father barked.

It took every ounce of courage she had left, but Lucy had to say it.

For Ella’s sake, if not her own. “You didn’t see her, Dad.

It wasn’t fear.” She paused, waiting for the ceiling to come down, the sky to fall.

Instead, her father stormed up the stairs.

A moment later her parents’ bedroom door slammed.

“Lucy.” Her mother came to her and placed her hands on either side of Lucy’s cheeks, like she used to when she was very little.

Her eyes were wide and soft and sad. “Your father cannot handle this. He’s right—Jep is the one who hurt your sister.

He was drunk. He was selfish and drunk and irresponsible.

And we could have lost her.” Her eyes bore into Lucy as if trying to impart the gravity of this, but what her parents always failed to realize was that she was already well acquainted with it.

“It’s not about Jep,” Lucy said. “It’s about Ella. What if seeing him helps her? What if it makes the difference?”

Her mother shook her head. “Ella is coming out of it on her own. She is. She just needs time.”

The words made sense, but Lucy did not believe them. She knew her sister as well as any of them. Probably better. Still, there was no way she was going to convince them to even consider letting Jep Parsons anywhere near Ella.

Lucy went out the kitchen door to the small patch of backyard. She flopped on the one of the recliners, the one Ella had sunned herself on every day up to graduation. Maybe her parents were right.

But as she stared at the cloudless sky, Lucy felt nothing but dread.

Unlike Ella, Lucy did not have an endless lineup of friends.

What she did have was one best friend, Reya.

Like her, Reya was skeptical of the popular kids in the hallways and more concerned with her class rank than her social rank.

If quiet by nature, she was vocal about her opinions, mostly about her favorite authors and which bubble tea flavor was the best. The two had been best friends since fourth grade when they were paired up for a project on the founding fathers.

They had been assigned John Adams. “We will be focusing on Abigail Adams,” Reya informed Lucy, when they met in the library.

“But the assignment was for her husband,” Lucy reminded her. “He was president.”

Reya pushed a library book across the desk. “Read for yourself. There’s a reason people dubbed her Mrs. President.”

Though everyone knew about what happened the night of the accident, it was Reya who was constant. Who showed up the morning after and reached out every day since. Today was no different.

I’m done with camp at three. Want to meet in town for ice cream?

Lucy wished she’d applied to be a junior camp counselor at the boys and girls club, like Reya had.

At the time she’d claimed there was no chance she would waste her summer chasing bratty kids around the beach with sunscreen and juice boxes.

Now she’d give anything to get out of her house.

Sure she texted back. Meet me at Buffy’s .

Maybe she’d pick up an application while she was there.

Scooping ice cream would be easy enough.

At 3:05 Lucy leaned her bike against the side of Buffy’s and let herself in the creaky screen door.

The line was long and loud, teeming with weary parents and noisy toddlers.

Lucy couldn’t help but notice the four teenagers who worked the counter looked exhausted.

She politely made her way to the front and when there was a pause between orders for double scoops and shakes, she asked one of the girls at the counter if they were hiring.

The girl adjusted her pink baseball hat and blinked.

“Sorry. My boss filled all the spots back in April.”

Lucy groaned. She knew from living in a resort town that these jobs were coveted.

She also knew a lot of them were scooped up by out-of-town college kids who came for the summer, or whose parents had summer homes.

It was a common local grievance to be elbowed out of the way by the summer people, even when it came to work.

“Try somewhere else,” Reya suggested, as they sat at one of the picnic tables with their cones. Reya had ordered black raspberry Oreo; she always tried something different. Lucy stuck to peach. She’d had enough change this summer.

“Like where?” she asked, catching a trail of melted peach ice cream with her tongue before it ran down her wrist. “All the good jobs are taken. At least here on Main Street. And I need someplace close enough to bike.”

She didn’t add that she couldn’t bother her parents with driving her back and forth since every free moment they had was spent with Ella.

Reya understood. “Hang on, did you hear about the new bookstore?” When Lucy shook her head, she went on, “I passed it on my way here, over by the lighthouse. There’s a sign in the window that says grand opening. ”

At the end of the commercial strip of Main Street, they swung their bikes right at the stop sign.

There were houses on both sides of the street, but the left boasted a mercurial strip of blue sea just beyond the rooftops.

Up ahead, Chatham Light loomed against a cloudless sky.

Midway along the stretch sat the old captain’s house.

Sure enough, when the girls pulled up on their bikes, there was a large hand-printed sign in one of the front windows: Help Wanted.

They propped their bikes up at the bottom of the steps, which were roped off with yellow tape. A small sign affixed to the tape said: Fresh Paint! Deliveries, please use side door. Below it in parentheses: Not Open for Business Yet.

“Geez, that’s a lot of signage,” Reya said.

Lucy let her gaze travel from the still-wet steps to the windows, covered in brown paper. “Looks like no one’s here.” She reached for her bike.

“Not so fast.” Reya grabbed her by the hand and tugged her toward the rear. “The sign says go around to the side.”

“For deliveries,” Lucy reminded her.

“Well, I’m delivering you,” Reya puffed, pulling her around the side yard to the door. “You’ll thank me later.”

Lucy was about to object just as the door flew open. A woman, not young and not old, stared back at them in surprise. Her blond hair was tied back in a red bandana. “Oh! Hello. Can I help you?”

Reya elbowed her. “Hi,” Lucy said. “You have a sign in the window for help wanted?” It came out as a question, which was not the way she’d hoped to introduce herself.

The woman smiled. “Yes, I know. I put it there.” She seemed to be lighthearted, and something about her made Lucy smile back with relief. “Are you looking for a job?”

Lucy nodded. “I’m Lucy Hart.”

“Did you say Hart?”

Lucy nodded again.

“Brad!” the woman called over her shoulder into the house. The room she was coming out of seemed to be some kind of old kitchen, and there was a decent amount of noise emanating from within. A saw purred in the background, as well as music.

A young man appeared. “Did you call me?”

The woman stuck out her hand and Lucy shook it. “Brad, you’ll never believe who showed up. This is Miss Hart.”

An hour later, Lucy was pedaling home fast, Reya puffing to keep up behind her. Her heart pounded, though she wasn’t sure if it was with excitement or fear that she’d just made a very big mistake.

“I can’t believe she hired you because of your last name,” Reya called out.

“I don’t think that’s the only reason,” Lucy called back over her shoulder. Reya surged up alongside her.