Summer Love Read online

  Jade-Marie’s mother, Francine, wasn’t thrilled about this. That long ago summer, Francine had met them, had even given a small dinner party for them, but they had never liked her, never welcomed her into their little group. And they considered her snobbish. Still, she agreed to be here for the week, the wife of the owner, a pleasant presence backlighting Nick. Francine was beautiful, maybe even more so than when she was in her twenties, slight, elegant, with her blond hair bobbed to chin level. Jade-Marie thought her mother was bored, probably. She was such a private person.

  Jade-Marie was thrilled about meeting the returning members of the gang. Her father had spoken of them often, his face lighting with pleasure as he talked. As an eternal optimist, her father was unable to sit down and rest, always rushing toward new ideas, new places. He had become wealthy that way. He had unerringly excellent instincts about which place or building was on the verge of huge success. But it wasn’t about the money for Nicolas Volkov. It was about making the magic.

  Jade-Marie thought she was a perfect mix between her mother’s and father’s characteristics. She had her father’s thick black curly hair, her mother’s sleek build, her father’s confidence, her mother’s caution. She had her father’s fondness for all human beings and more than she’d like of her mother’s snobbishness. Her aunt Celeste had often and loudly pitied Jade-Marie because her mother was so aloof.

  Once, she’d heard Aunt Celeste saying, in French, to Francine that she was setting Jade-Marie up for a lonely life. No siblings. Practically raised by nannies and babysitters. She will not know how to love! Aunt Celeste had cried. Francine had answered scornfully that that was better than not knowing how to do anything but love.

  “My daughter is smart, quick-witted, elegant, and strong. She will have other interests in her life than waiting for a man to marry her and tie her down to one small life.”

  Jade-Marie had held her breath, pressing her back against the wall outside her mother’s room. She’d never heard such positive and slightly weird opinions of herself from her mother before.

  Then she heard her mother continue. “Unfortunately, Jade-Marie is too much like her father. She is a dreamer. She thinks she can control her own life. She doesn’t understand that life controls her.”

  Stung, Jade-Marie thought, Well, then, I will be more like my father! I will make my own dreams come true! At twenty-two, Jade-Marie’s dreams were vague, complicated, and sometimes contradictory. She wanted to help the poor; she wanted to establish her own chain of environmentally ethical spas. She wanted to be considered beautiful, so that men would fall in love with her. She wanted to be a brilliant businesswoman. She wanted to have thousands of lovers until she met the right man. When she really fell in love, she would marry and have several children. She would never put her work before her children and she would never put her children before her work.

  She wouldn’t be exactly like her father. He liked the razzle-dazzle of dealmaking. The next big thing was always just out of reach. Jade-Marie liked the more domestic side of running a hotel, making people feel comfortable and safe. She knew this summer would prove to her—and her father—that she was good enough to run the hotel full-time. Jade-Marie knew she could do it. At the same time, she wondered whether she’d make any good friends or boyfriends on the island.

  Jade-Marie had had crushes on boys when she was an adolescent. She had chosen to lose her virginity in college, to a boy she liked, and for a while they’d been a sort of couple. He was two years older. When he graduated, he went back to Nebraska to take an office job with Allstate. He tried to keep his relationship with Jade-Marie alive, but her father wanted her to see the world and be aware of all the possibilities now, while she was young. Last summer, Nick had brought her with him to Nantucket, when he bought the fading hotel and started plans for the restoration.

  Jade-Marie had unexpectedly fallen head over heels in love with Nantucket.

  She couldn’t believe how wonderful the island was. The light! The ocean! The fabulous restaurants and shops! She didn’t want to leave Nantucket even to finish college, but her parents insisted.

  Her father had led her through the faded glories of the old hotel. He’d shown her the architectural plans for the renovations. He’d asked for her suggestions about chandeliers in the ballroom. Most of the hotel’s public rooms had modern flush-mounted ceiling lights with three rows of glass prisms, a clean, almost mathematical look. Jade-Marie had pressed for the empress chandelier with tiers of Swarovski crystals for the ballroom. There would be weddings there, not only conferences, she reminded him. There would be graduation parties, reunions, celebrations. The ballroom needed a touch of romance, of history, even if the rest of the hotel was sleek and minimal.

  Her father went with her choice. Jade-Marie had hugged him with tears in her eyes.

  When she graduated from college this spring, she skipped the ceremony in order to be on the island for the opening of the hotel. She’d had weeks to familiarize herself with it all, the bistro with its large-screen TVs set into the wall, the offices behind the reception counter, the IT room hiding a humming supercomputer, the sleek, pale-hued guest bedrooms, the velvet lawn set out with tables and chairs and brightened with flowers.

  “I’m going to run this hotel someday,” she promised.

  “Such dreams you have,” her mother said, rolling her eyes.

  In March, the Lighthouse was completed, with its 400-count Frette linens, luxurious terry-cloth bathrobes, and gorgeous photos of the island’s lighthouses on the walls. In April, the hotel opened for Daffodil Weekend. Nick Volkov ordered masses of daffodils from Flowers on Chestnut. The lobby’s urns were crowded with fresh daffodils and each guest room had its welcoming vase. Jade-Marie stayed by her father’s side as they went through the day, solving problems. The Hudsons had booked a room for two and arrived with their three children. The supply of prosecco for the bistro had not turned up. One of the maids was caught on camera pocketing a batch of custom-made shampoo bottles.

  By June, the workings of the hotel were in order. Jade-Marie was head receptionist, friendly and knowledgeable and professional. Beneath the counter, she kept her own laptop open. When she had time, she typed notes to herself about their guests—which ones complained, which ones held noisy drunken parties in their rooms, which ones leaned on the counter to try to flirt with her.

  * * *

  —

  It was Sunday. Today her father’s friends would arrive.

  Jade-Marie was ready. She knew their names. Knew which rooms she was to give them. She was eager to meet them and she hoped her mother would return from her shopping stroll on Main Street in time to have dinner with them. Since her father had an important meeting with the chamber of commerce, he asked Jade-Marie to tell his friends he’d join them at dinner that night. Jade-Marie knew he didn’t want to hang around the reception counter waiting for them to show up. He wanted them waiting for him. It was not an insignificant favor her father was asking of her. There was a slight sense of discomfort lingering around this reunion, and Jade-Marie had been chosen as the buffer person.

  Now, across from her desk, the glass entrance doors slid smoothly open and a family entered.

  A father. A mother. And another man, her age. A tall, dark-haired, stormy-faced, wide-shouldered Heathcliff of a man. He had to be Jason.

  Jade-Marie’s breath caught in her throat. She flushed. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  Jason seemed to sense her fascination. He looked up, saw Jade-Marie staring at him, and smiled.

  For a long moment, they were the only two people in the room.

  Then his parents surged toward Jade-Marie and the hotel counter. Mr. Smith and Mrs. Smith, the famous Ariel, the woman Jade-Marie’s parents had admired all those years ago. Jade-Marie quickly took a mental snapshot, so she could review the woman’s appearance in her mind later. She was not that tall, only about five-five, w
ith blond hair—professionally lightened, Jade-Marie thought—curling to her shoulders. Bangs over her forehead, always good for hiding wrinkles—Jade-Marie’s mother had given her thousands of style suggestions; that was Francine’s standard form of conversation with her. Ariel’s blond hair was short enough to show off her small turquoise earrings. She wore a sleeveless lavender linen dress and several gold arm bangles. She was seriously beautiful and much too glamorous to go by the name Smith. Wyatt Smith had dark hair, beginning to thin. Well, he was forty-seven. Still Jade-Marie’s competitive father would be glad to see that while he still had a full head of hair, the other male from the Sand Palace Four had a bare spot at the crown of his head.

  “You have to be Jade-Marie,” the woman said. “You look exactly like your father.”

  Before she could answer, her husband spoke. “Hi, Jade-Marie. I’m Wyatt Smith and this is my wife, Ariel. We spent one crazy summer here with your father.”

  Jade-Marie turned on the professional charm. “Oh, yes, of course! Dad said you were arriving today. I’m so glad to meet you at last!”

  Ariel said, “And this is our son, Jason.”

  Jason stepped forward and held out his hand. “Hello.” His grasp was warm and firm.

  “Hello.” She could stare at him forever. His eyes were a magical gypsy blue with thick black lashes.

  Wyatt cleared his throat loudly. Reluctantly, Jade-Marie pulled her hand away. Jason’s mouth quirked up in a sideways smile, like a secret message between them.

  Flustered, she clicked some keys on the desktop. Any keys at all, while she got herself calmed down. Deep breath, she told herself. Focus.

  “You and Mrs. Smith have a suite on the third floor, and Jason”—she glanced at him with a professional smile—“you have your own room, also on the third floor, just down the hall. Mr. Volkov has comped your rooms and any food you might have at the hotel. We don’t have a full-service restaurant, but we do have a bistro and a light breakfast buffet.”

  She handed the envelope containing the key cards to each man. Her fingers accidentally touched Jason’s. For a moment, they let the touch linger.

  Sudden laughter broke their connection. Two women walked in the front door, pulling their rolling suitcases along behind them. Obviously, they were mother and daughter. Both had red hair, creamy skin, and green eyes. Both were beautiful. Well, the mother was attractive, but her daughter was truly ravishing, in a Rita Hayworth way.

  “Sheila!” Ariel Smith flew across the lobby to embrace her old friend.

  “It’s been too long,” Sheila said, hugging her friend. She stepped back. “Let me look at you. It’s been at least five years since you all came to visit. You look exactly the same. Wonderful.”

  Ariel Smith laughed. “You look wonderful, too.”

  Sheila’s daughter stood nearby, waiting.

  “Good Lord, Penny! Look at you, all grown up!” Ariel Smith kissed Penny’s cheek and held Penny away so she could study her. “My goodness, you’ve become the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen!”

  Mrs. O’Connell glowed with pride. “I’m sorry Hank couldn’t make it. He has some high school track competition. I didn’t want the boys to come. Can you imagine the chaos? But I knew Penny would love visiting the island.”

  Mrs. Smith gently touched Penny’s face. “When we last saw you, five years ago, you and Jason were such teenagers. Now you’re both so…adult!”

  Jason rolled his eyes and kissed Penny’s cheek. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Penny said back.

  “What’s going on over here?” Wyatt Smith joined the group. “How’s Hank?” he asked Penny.

  As the others talked, Jade-Marie fussed around at her computer, getting their room cards ready, pretending it didn’t hurt that she wasn’t included in their group.

  Finally, the exuberant Mrs. O’Connell swooped up to the desk. “Jade-Marie! I’m so happy to see you at last. I confess I’ve checked out your Instagram and the hotel’s website. You’re much lovelier in person than on the screen.” She tried to reach over to hug Jade-Marie, but when that didn’t work, she actually walked around the counter to pull her into a warm embrace. Jade-Marie was slightly embarrassed, but this was one of the fabulous four, so she made nice.

  Mrs. O’Connell’s daughter, Penny, came up to the counter. “Mom. You’re intruding into her professional space. Stop it.” Penny rolled her eyes. “Hi, Jade-Marie. Forgive my mother. She can be just a tad overbearing.”

  Jade-Marie instantly liked Penny. She seemed fun and unpretentious. “My mother can be that way, too,” she fake-whispered. Mrs. O’Connell went back around to stand by her daughter. Jade-Marie held out a key card. “Your suite is on the third floor, with two double beds—”

  “Oh, no,” Mrs. O’Connell objected. “No, we have to have separate bedrooms. Please.”

  For a moment, Jade-Marie was surprised enough to hesitate. “My father chose the rooms himself. He wanted to give you all the best rooms, the best views.”

  “That’s so thoughtful of Nick and I appreciate it,” Mrs. O’Connell said, “but really, we need separate rooms. I have enough trouble sleeping as it is.” When Jade-Marie still hesitated, she said, “I’ll pay for the extra room.”

  “No, no,” Jade-Marie hurried to respond. “I’m just checking to see what rooms are available on the third floor. Would you like a connecting door?”

  “No,” Mrs. O’Connell said.

  Penny grinned at Jade-Marie. “Mom snores like a hibernating bear.”

  “I don’t!” Mrs. O’Connell protested. “It’s just…it’s just what I prefer.” Leaning forward, she spoke in a low voice, as if she didn’t want the others to hear. “You see, we have four children, my husband and I, and the younger three are boys. They are absolutely Neolithic. You don’t want details. I’m anticipating a week of utter luxury in a room of my own.”

  “Of course.” Jade-Marie searched on the computer and found a room for Penny at the other end of the corridor. It wasn’t as large as her mother’s room, but it was nice. She gave them each their key cards, tucked into the envelope with special welcome notes from her father.

  “My father will be serving drinks in his suite, Room 304, at six o’clock. He has reservations for dinner for everyone at eight o’clock at the yacht club across the street.”

  Mr. Smith said to Jason, “You see, I told you to bring a tie.”

  The Smiths and Mrs. O’Connell headed toward the elevator, chatting as they went.

  Penny lingered behind, and when the elevator door closed on the four, she came to the front desk and slumped across it.

  “Help me,” she groaned, her tone ironic.

  In a joking, overdone professional way, Jade-Marie asked, “And exactly what may I do for you, Miss O’Connell?”

  “For starters, at dinner tonight, don’t make me sit near my mother.”

  Jade-Marie grinned. She knew exactly how Penny felt. “I won’t make you sit near my mother, either. How about next to Jason?”

  Penny snorted. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? He was a sweet little boy when I last saw him. Our families got together several times, but the last time, Jason was off looking at colleges. Now he seems maybe a little, I don’t know, smug?”

  “Yeah, he does seem arrogant. He’s probably pissed off that his parents made him come here with a lot of old people.”

  “Really? Gosh, I’m excited to be here. I’ve heard so much about the hotel and Nantucket.”

  “Let’s get together after this reunion dinner,” Jade-Marie suggested. “We can walk down to the harbor.”

  “I’d love that. And listen, I want to get a summer job. I need to make some money and I want to get away from my family. Does the hotel need anyone? It would be fun to be a receptionist!”

  “I don’t know. Let me check with Sharon Waters. She’s our manager.”

 
“Great!” Penny enclosed Jade-Marie’s hand in both of hers. “Thank you!”

  three

  That Summer

  By early June, the four inhabitants of the Sand Palace had developed a routine. They arranged to take the same day off so they could go to the beach together. They rode their rented bikes to the grocery store, returning with milk and food in the baskets. They set up a makeshift kitchen in a large empty storage closet. Sharon Waters had to give permission for the two-ring hot plate they bought, and with unusual generosity, Sharon sent in a small, used hotel room refrigerator that hummed constantly and shuddered as if offended when the door was opened. Ariel found several ragged bath mats with The Nantucket Palace embossed in gold on the white fleece. She taped them together to form a thick mat at the front door, so they could scrape the sand off their feet instead of tracking it down the hall and into the bathroom. Still, if they’d all been to the beach, sand rained down from their bathing suits as they trekked to their rooms.

  Gradually, the four renters got used to the rhythm and demands of their new summer jobs.

  * * *

  —

  Wyatt worked late at the boatyard most days. He was glad to do it. He liked his boss, Don Cabot. Don was a good guy, an island native with no desire to ever leave Nantucket. Wyatt admired how Don took his time checking out an engine and chatting with his customers, who all seemed to be good friends. Wyatt enjoyed tinkering with machinery, working on one engine for an hour, letting what he called his shallow mind do the work while his deep mind played with similarities or innovative slants on geological research. So many possibilities.

  Wyatt liked all his basement friends. Nick was honest, open, up-front about being ambitious, wanting to make lots of money, and Wyatt respected that. Nick wasn’t being hypocritical and pretending he wanted to save the world. He was funny, too, and imaginative in a way Wyatt had never learned to be.