Summer's End (Evening Island Book 2) Read online

  “It’s only a temporary position,” Lynette replied.

  Kim struggled to find her voice. Going back to school for her teaching certification had been the only thing that helped her get over the loss of her mother—well, that and Bran.

  Remember that, she told herself now. Remember that Branson is the one you are marrying.

  Even if more and more, it felt like by marrying Branson, she was marrying his mother, too. Lynette had their entire future planned: They’d vacation together every summer, along with Bran’s two brothers, older sister, and their spouses and kids. And speaking of kids, Lynette hadn’t been shy in saying she wanted more grandchildren, and soon. Two would be best, spaced two years apart, preferably one boy and one girl, preferably in that order, and they could use the same au pair service that Bran’s brother’s wife had used. They’d spend every Thanksgiving at the main house, and every Christmas at the ski chalet in Colorado. When they were in town, they expected Sunday night dinners at the club, and of course, there were the committees…

  In other words, there was no space for a job, or a career. Or even her own family. There wasn’t even room for Kim’s mother’s veil.

  Kim had tried explaining to Branson that she and her family had their own traditions—at least, they had, once. That was before their mother got sick, back when she still hosted holidays. Kim had always been up for it, longed for more, really. She loved the Christmas brunches and the Mother’s Day teas, and most of all, she loved their summer trips to Evening Island, to the big Victorian lake house that faced the water, and the carefree nights where she and her sisters would ride bikes and play cards on the front porch and try to catch fireflies in jars. They’d all been so happy once.

  Now, thinking that she hadn’t even considered calling one of her sisters and asking them to join her today, she wondered if they’d ever be that happy again.

  Lynette was now studying a tulle veil. Perfectly lovely, but not the one Kim intended to wear.

  “You’re going to be too busy to have a job once you’re married,” Lynette told her, deciding the veil unworthy as she slipped it back on the hook. “Now, enough about that. Let’s see you in the dress.”

  In other words, the dress that Lynette had selected, after nixing every single one that Kim had liked, explaining that, like Kim’s mother’s dress, her choices were too simple, too understated, that for a wedding of this caliber, Kim needed something memorable, something unique, something that weighed about hundred pounds and was covered in Swarovski crystals, Kim soon came to discover.

  Kim dreaded the thought of seeing that dress again but relished the thought of disappearing into the dressing room for a few moments to herself.

  As usual, Lynette had other ideas. She followed her right inside, where the dress was already waiting, displayed in all its sparkling glory on a satin hanger.

  “Since your friend isn’t here today, I’ll assist.”

  Kim blinked in panic. “I can manage.”

  “With a gown of this size?” Lynette was already starting to remove it from the hanger. She stared at Kim sharply, clearly waiting for her to undress. Finally, when Kim didn’t show any sign of movement, because, at this point, she was nearly frozen with fear, Lynette sighed and said, “I can see you’re modest. I suppose that’s better than the last girl Bran brought home. His father and I made it very clear that she was not suitable.” She pinched her mouth and opened her eyes wide on that. Finally, she slipped out the door. “I’ll be right here if you change your mind.”

  Kim eyed Lynette’s no-nonsense heels under the door and then looked back up at the dress, knowing that she’d never get the row of buttons fastened on her own.

  With a sigh, she removed her sundress and stepped into the giant hoop of fabric, telling herself that maybe she would like it better this time, maybe it wouldn’t look so ornate or so regal or so…wrong.

  If anything, it looked worse. She frowned, leaning into the mirror. Had Cynthia slipped even more rhinestones onto the bodice? She had. She absolutely had, and no doubt it had been Lynette who made sure of it.

  “Everything okay in there?” Lynette asked from the other side of the door.

  No, everything was not okay, it was actually very far from okay, Kim wanted to cry. But instead, she pulled open the door, holding the loose dress at her chest.

  “Oh yes. This is perfect,” Lynette said, dragging out the last word in an almost feline way. She led Kim toward the three-way mirror, where Cynthia looked on with approval, and buttoned the long row of satin buttons, the corset becoming tighter with each row.

  It had been taken in last time, and now it felt almost too tight, and the air—had the air-conditioning stopped working? Kim felt suffocated, tight in the chest, her stomach turning all funny again when she stared at her reflection, of a girl she didn’t even recognize and wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

  Her heart was racing and she was starting to panic and she couldn’t breathe. She needed to undo the buttons. She needed to take off this dress. She needed air. Really, she needed space. Distance. Miles between her and the Crofts and this wedding and all these expectations.

  And she knew just the place.

  2

  Heather

  Heather stared at the pile of mail that had collected on her coffee table, wondering if today was the day she could muster up the energy to look through it all. She sighed and set the coffee mug on a coaster, which was the most dignified thing she’d done all week. Maybe all month. Truth be told, she wasn’t even sure what day it was. They all blended together in a strange passing of hours that were marked by the shift in sunlight.

  She was judging from the full sun beaming through her living room windows that it was sometime in the late morning. At least she’d already showered for the day, even if she did slip back into pajamas afterward. But they were fresh pajamas, not the ones she’d worn last night. An improvement from a month ago when she’d lost her job at the home and garden magazine where she’d worked since graduating college. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

  Or maybe not, she thought, carrying the stack of bills into the kitchen at the back of the narrow city brownstone she and Daniel had purchased shortly after they’d gotten married. It had been a steal six years ago, only because of the work that was needed. But work they did. Every evening and weekend for months involved stripping wallpaper, rolling out fresh paint, retiling the bathrooms, installing new fixtures, and of course, renovating this kitchen. The kitchen had been a top priority, a place where she imagined baking cookies with their future children, or cooking Christmas dinner.

  It was, she’d thought, a place where traditions would be created and memories would be made.

  Instead, the kitchen remained quiet and empty, and lately, unused. She didn’t even like going in there anymore, and she only did now so she could refill her coffee mug while she went through the bills. Her heart was hammering with dread when she saw the first one on the pile. An invoice from her attorney. Her divorce attorney. Another from the gas company. The electric company. The cable company.

  It was endless. She set the stack on the kitchen table and drained the last of the coffee from the pot into her mug, then added a very generous splash of flavored creamer. She stared at the calendar that was held to the fridge by magnets—miniature photos of her and Daniel, not because she couldn’t part with them but because she hadn’t gotten around to buying any more magnets yet.

  Her sisters would have a fit if they saw that she’d kept these up, but then, even though both of her sisters also lived in Chicago, they rarely saw each other, and when they did, it was on neutral territory. A café for a quick coffee or brunch, and the ever occasional sushi dinner, which had trickled down to once or twice a year. Kim had always been more available—until the past year when she met Bran. Not that Heather was completely complaining. She didn’t have the energy to put on a happy face any more than she had the energy to rehash all her problems.

  It was Monday. The second week of
the month. And other than crossing out each day as they passed, her calendar was completely bare for all of August. No interviews. She tried not to let that distract her too much. Soon enough she’d be employed again, rushing around each morning, hopping on the bus or train to get to work in time, exhausted by the end of the day when she finally turned the key in her door. By then, she’d be wishing she had used this time better—to say, master a foreign language or travel. But then, traveling cost money, and learning a foreign language required motivation, both of which she was lacking these days, and had been, she knew, for quite some time.

  She sipped her coffee, a small but meaningful perk to the day that she’d once used as a topic in her monthly column (how to start your day in a perfect way!) and sat at the table, deciding to tackle the stack that had matriculated for weeks into three piles: trash, deal, deal with later.

  The invoice from the divorce attorney went into the deal with later category, the bills into the deal, which she did, even if it hurt, because there was no way around it unless she wanted to have her lights turned off, and she couldn’t live without the internet or cell phone, not if she wanted to keep applying for jobs and actually stand a chance of hearing back from one. The junk pile was adding up quickly at least, one flyer or catalog after another.

  She paused on the newest nursery decorating catalog, her breath stalling in her chest. She thought she’d unsubscribed from all of that, thought she’d finally buried that dream, but now it was staring her in the face, the perfect picture of a light and airy crib, a sweet little mobile hanging over it, sunlight filtering through the ivory linen curtains, a shelf with a row of soft plush animals and books, much like the one she’d planned to set up.

  She pressed her lips together and set it in the trash pile, then slid it to the bottom.

  Next up: a creamy, thick envelope with her name hand calligraphed across the front in navy ink. She didn’t need to open this to know what was inside. An invitation, officially inviting her to her sister’s wedding next month. She’d been hearing about it for months, of course, anytime she and Kim talked, which wasn’t often lately. She’d tried to be excited for her sister, who had taken their mother’s death last summer the hardest of the three of them, but more and more she struggled to set aside her own hurts, her own past and disappointments, and eventually it became easier to make up excuses for why she couldn’t meet for that coffee or that sushi dinner or even, much to her shame, to any of Kim’s wedding planning appointments even though she’d covered the topic of floral centerpieces at least once a year in her column. Kim had Lynette for that, anyway.

  Heather opened the envelope and pulled out the card, skimming it carefully, even though she knew all the details because Kim hadn’t been shy in sharing them, and then walked to the calendar on her fridge, where she flipped to the next month. Like August—and July (save for that tense and overly formal bridal shower that Kim’s future mother-in-law had thrown for her at their country club)—September was bare. A blank slate. The optimist in her would have said that it represented a fresh start, but Heather wasn’t feeling very optimistic these days. She added the details of the rehearsal dinner and the wedding reception to the calendar, pleased to see that at least one thing was planned.

  At least one thing was certain.

  The phone rang, making Heather jump, and then laugh at herself for such a ridiculous reaction. She’d gotten too used to the quiet, the solitude. Daniel had moved out months before her mother’s passing, and after the funeral, the calls of concern came from old friends and extended family members. But eventually, people moved on with their lives and expected her to as well.

  She straightened her shoulders, even though no one could see her, and hurried to the table, wondering if it could be a call about a job—she’d applied to at least ten positions last week, even if half of them she was unqualified for and the other half she didn’t actually want.

  But it wasn’t an unknown number. It was her sister. Kim. And it was far too tempting to ignore it, which was just the reason she knew she shouldn’t. Kim was her younger sister. One of only two other people in this entire world who understood her loss. But then, Kim couldn’t understand all of it, Heather thought, letting her eyes drift back to the invitation.

  She pressed the button and held the phone to her ear. “Hey there,” she said, trying to sound cheerful, or at least normal.

  “Is this an okay time to talk?” Kim asked. “I waited until I thought it might be your lunch break.”

  Right. Heather blinked and adjusted her pajama top as she settled back in her kitchen chair. “Perfect time,” she said, hoping that Kim wouldn’t pick up on the sounds of the television from the other room. If she did, she could say she was working from home, or that she was nursing a headache. Kim wouldn’t question it; she had no reason to. For all her family knew, Heather was adjusting just fine to the dissolution of her marriage.

  “How are you?” she asked, hoping to deflect the conversation away from herself even though she wasn’t sure she could handle another round of Kim’s wedding countdown. Maybe that made her a bad person, and an even worse sister, but then she thought of Andrea, who didn’t even pretend to make time for either one of them lately and probably didn’t feel bad about it either. At least she was a better sister than Andrea, she told herself.

  “Oh…fine.” Kim didn’t exactly sound fine, and now Heather frowned, leaning forward to reach for her mug again. “Lots of wedding planning!”

  Heather rolled her eyes. She’d heard all about the cake, the flowers, and the menu. She’d heard all about how helpful Lynette was being, making long lists and scheduling the appointments and being so organized, because Kim was many things, but organized had never been one of them. That was their sister Andrea’s territory. Andrea was the achiever, Kim was the dreamer, and Heather, smack in the middle, was….

  The failure. That’s how it felt recently, at least. No husband. No job.

  No child.

  She took another sip of coffee to steady her emotions, and said, “I’m sure it’s gorgeous!”

  She was a bridesmaid, of course, along with Andrea, Kim’s best friend from college, Branson’s sister, sisters-in-law, and a handful of cousins on Bran’s side of the family that Lynette said balanced out the groomsmen. In other words, it was basically going to be a parade. But then, Kim had always wanted a big wedding.

  “Yeah…” Kim faded away for a moment, making Heather hold the phone from her ear to check if they still had a connection.

  “I just received your invitation,” Heather offered. “I’ll get it mailed today.”

  “You’re just now receiving it?” Kim sounded surprised.

  Heather reached for the envelope, checking the postmark. Ten days ago. “It was tucked in with catalogs,” she said, knowing that Kim would be hurt if she knew that Heather hadn’t opened it directly upon receiving it, and she would have if she’d seen it earlier. Hoping to avoid that discussion, she said, “It’s beautiful, of course.”

  “Lynette picked it out,” Kim replied.

  Ah yes, the ever-helpful Lynette. The very woman who had hijacked Kim’s bridal shower—though, in fairness, Heather had only started to plan something, and those ideas were admittedly loose and scattered because she couldn’t think clearly lately, not even with the aid of caffeine. Kim had told her not to worry, said that it was the thought that counted, that Lynette had already booked a room at the club. Lynette had done more than that. She’d ignored the texts that Heather had sent offering her services, and when Heather arrived as a guest, she was seated at a table at the back of the room along with Andrea, who was checking her phone for half the tea, left to watch from a distance as her baby sister opened her gifts, laughed at Lynette’s painfully self-flattering toast, and seemed perfectly content rather than as irritated as Heather felt.

  For a moment, Heather felt the same flare of anger she always did when Kim talked about Lynette, her future mother-in-law, who was starting to feel more and more
like a replacement mother altogether, but she refrained. It was part of her grief, she knew, feeling sad one moment and angry the next. She didn’t want to push her sister away, not when she was running out of people who were left in her life.

  Realizing that the reason for Kim’s call was probably to check up on the now delayed response to her wedding invitation, Heather said, “Well, my lunch break is almost over—”

  She was a terrible sister.

  “I just wanted to run one thing by you!” Kim said quickly. There was a strange sort of emotion in her voice—one that Heather might have called desperation if she didn’t know better. Kim had nothing to feel desperate about; all her dreams were coming true. Unlike Heather, her future was very bright.

  “Oh?” She hoped it wasn’t about a bachelorette party that Heather could only hope Kate was planning—Andrea wouldn’t take it on herself. Kim had only briefly mentioned at the shower that she wanted something small for that. But nothing about any of this was small in scale.

  “I know it’s short notice, and you could say no, but I figured, well, everything is going to be different once I’m married. I mean, I’m guessing it won’t be as easy to meet for our coffees or sushi dinners.”

  Not that it was a regular thing now, but Kim probably had a point. Heather nodded, even though her sister couldn’t see. “It’s a whole new stage of life for you.” She swallowed hard, thinking that Kim would be busy with Bran most nights and weekends, even more than now, and eventually she’d have children, who would keep her even busier, and that someday Heather might come to regret not taking advantage of this time when they were both free to spend more time together.

  But just like her intentions of using this time for a vacation or an art class or to master a foreign language, she’d managed to find an excuse. The truth was that being with Kim hurt her; she didn’t know why, but it did.

  Maybe because Kim was a reminder of everything Heather once had and now didn’t.