That Summer by Jennifer Weiner (free e reader txt) 📗

She pulled on jeans, wool socks, and her warmest sweater, which was made of thick cranberry-colored wool and came down to her thighs, and quickly kindled a fire in the woodstove. Then she called Reese. “There’s no heat in my cottage,” she said.

“Did you turn the thermostat on and off?”

“Yep. Nothing happened.”

“Is there oil in your tank?”

She grimaced, vaguely remembering something Michael Car-mody had said about an oil tank, back in the fall. “Shoot.”

Reese’s voice was not unsympathetic. “You’ve got a caretaker, right?”

Diana sighed. “I do.” She’d thrown out Michael Carmody’s business card, but he was in the Yellow Pages, and the cheerful-sounding young woman who answered the phone said, “I’ll send him right over.”

“Thank you,” said Diana. She put on her down coat, and she and Willa went to sit on the deck and await Michael Carmody’s arrival.

Twenty minutes later, the caretaking truck came rumbling up the driveway and pulled to a stop beside her Honda. Michael gave her a salute and opened his door. The truck’s springs seemed to sigh in relief as he climbed out. He wore jeans, work boots, a canvas barn coat, a red and black plaid shirt, and his usual Red Sox cap.

“Tank empty?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.” That was easier than having to explain that she’d never even located the tank.

Michael set off on a walk around the cottage. Diana followed along, thinking that Frankie hadn’t been wrong to call him a bear. He didn’t walk as much as lumber, and it wasn’t hard to picture him spending a few months gorging on salmon and blueberries, getting ready to hibernate. She was smiling at the thought of Michael using his large, nimble hands to snatch salmon out of a river when he turned around.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

Michael made a grumbling noise. A bearlike noise. Diana bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. A moment later, he was kneeling next to a round black tank, half-hidden behind a lilac bush, low on the side of the cottage. When he gave it a rap with his knuckles, she could hear the echo. “Yup,” he said. “You’re dry.” He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Hi, it’s Michael Carmody. Let me talk to Little Don.” When someone—presumably Little Don—picked up, he said, “Yeah, I’m up here at the Levy cottage on Knowles Heights Road. They got an account?” He paused, then nodded. “Yuh. We’ll wait.” He pocketed his phone, said, “Shouldn’t be more than an hour,” then reached in his pocket and tossed Willa a disc of dehydrated hot dog.

“How’s my girlfriend?” he crooned, as Willa bounced around the patchy grass, looking half-insane with joy. “How’s my number-one girl?” His beard had gotten bushier since Diana had seen him last.

“How much is this going to cost?” she asked, trying to keep her voice businesslike.

“Well, I’m not sure.” He turned to examine one of her shutters, lifting it from the bottom, then wiggling it back and forth before pulling a screwdriver out of his pocket and tightening one of the screws. “What’s your deal with Dr. Levy? Is she paying utilities, or are you?”

Diana pressed her lips together. “I’m not sure,” she muttered.

Michael tightened the second screw, then made his way back to the front of the house, where Diana had set out her shells to dry in the sun. He crouched down to examine them. “Hey,” he said. “Did you make these? They’re pretty.” He picked up a shell that she’d lined with a lobster print. “Are you selling them?”

“What? No, no, I just… I needed a project.”

“Come summer, these babies would fly out of the farmers’ market. The summer people always want souvenirs to take home. You could make some money.”

She shook her head, thinking no one would pay for a shell with a bit of paper glued inside. “I won’t be here this summer.”

He tilted his head, a very Willa-like gesture. “Oh, no?”

“No.” Dr. Levy had offered, which was more than generous of her. If you’re happy there, please stay, she’d said, but Diana knew that she couldn’t.

“Where are you headed?” Michael asked.

“Back to Boston. I’ll stay with my parents for the summer.” She’d already made plans to resume her old job, deep-cleaning the classrooms and the dorms over the summer, readying them for the students’ return.

“That’s too bad.” He sounded honestly regretful as he looked at her, not in a predatory, leering way, but with great concentration. Like he was trying to memorize her, and there’d be a test later.

“Why?”

“Well, you’re going to miss the best part of the year.” He looked out toward P-town. “I’ve lived here all my life, and I never get tired of summer.” He still wore that wistful smile as he turned toward her. “Business will really pick up at the Abbey. They open up the deck, and it’s the best seat in town to watch the sunset, and Carl makes this incredible tuna Bolognese. It sounds weird, but it’s out of this world.”

“So what did you have when you came in?” Diana hadn’t meant to interrupt; she hadn’t even intended to let him know that she’d noticed him at the Abbey. She certainly hadn’t meant for her voice to sound as sharp as it had.

“Huh?” He looked puzzled.

“In December,” she said. “You were on a date.”

For a minute, Michael just stared at her. Then he started to laugh.

“What?” Diana asked.

He shook his head.

“What?” she said again.

Shaking his head, he said, “Kate’s my sister.” He grinned. “But if I’d known that showing up with another woman was what it took to get you to notice me, I would have done it sooner.”

Diana could feel her face getting hot. “I wasn’t… I didn’t…”

He held up his hands. “It’s okay. Really. Like I told you at the farmers’ market, if you’re not interested, then you’re not interested.” He rubbed his hands along his thighs. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “I just wish you weren’t leaving.”

“Why?”