When We Had Summer, page 4
“Oh, please. You’re the one who said you wanted space!”
“Not if you’re going to use it as an excuse to check out of our family!” Penny’s mom snapped.
Penny stepped away from the screen door. A few months ago, she would have interrupted this conversation. She hated it when her parents fought. But they’d been doing it so much lately, and Penny was tired of trying to stop it. Maybe if she let them finish each time, they’d finally get all argued out. Then their family would be okay again.
She backed herself into a corner where the kitchen counters made an L shape, then slid down to the floor and hugged her knees. Maybe getting a job was a bad idea; her mom might need her around. For a few long minutes, she listened to her brothers talking to their gaming characters (“Don’t do it, man! Don’t open that door!”) and her mother’s voice getting higher and sharper on the phone (“I am so tired of this!”).
This is not how it’s supposed to be, Penny thought. The Summer Sisters should all be here. My dad should be here. I should be at the beach by now or eating a deep-fried Oreo on the boardwalk.
But even if she had the energy to get up off the kitchen floor, the beach or the Oreo wouldn’t be the same. Nothing would be the same, so why bother?
Ding!
Penny’s phone was in her pocket, so the vibrating message alert made her leg and foot rattle. She pulled out the phone and saw that Daniella had texted a picture to both Penny and Lainie.
She opened it and zoomed in. It was a photo of a Bucket List she’d never seen before, scribbled in very familiar handwriting.
Carly, Penny thought, then had to blink a few times. No, that’s not possible.
Another text from Daniella: Found this in Carly’s room
Then, in a separate bubble: I know we said we wouldn’t do an SSBL this year but I keep thinking she’d want us to do this one. Am I crazy?
Penny read through the Bucket List, picturing Carly starting it in the dead of winter. Always keeping an eye on summer and the Summer Sisters. Looking at it now was like feeling Carly’s hand grabbing hers. Yanking her away from the hard, cold tiles beneath her.
Come on, Carly was saying. Get UP! You and I had special secret plans for this summer, remember?
Penny remembered.
So she got up.
Then she typed a reply to Daniella’s message: No you’re not crazy
Daniella: So are you in?
WAY in. Penny added an excited-face emoji. Then about thirteen exclamation points, just to be clear.
Lainie’s reply zipped in right after Penny’s. OMG me too, can’t believe you found this
Daniella wrote, Who can talk tonight so we can make a plan?
After a handful of texts back and forth, Penny, Daniella, and Lainie had set a time for a group video chat. Penny navigated back to the photo of Carly’s new Bucket List. She scanned the items and could almost hear Carly reading them out loud at their Sea Spray Café table. Every item whispered yes and let’s go and summer summer summer.
Penny followed the whispers. Out of the kitchen, into the backyard, past her mom, who was still arguing with her dad. She opened the garage and there was her aqua-blue beach cruiser bike, coated with a thin layer of dust from a winter of waiting.
She wiped a cobweb away from the seat and threw her phone into the coconut-shaped cup holder on the handlebars. Penny hopped on, riding slowly at first, then fast and confidently, toward Anderson’s Boardwalk.
“How many years has your family been coming to Ocean Park Heights?”
Keri, the woman who did all the hiring for Anderson’s, clicked her pen as she looked over Penny’s job application. They were sitting across from each other in peach-colored chairs in a peach-colored office.
“Ten years, I think,” Penny said. “My parents bought our beach house when I was little. I honestly don’t remember any other kind of summer.”
“Is there any other kind of summer?” Keri asked, smiling as she put down Penny’s application. “You seem like an excellent candidate, and I’d be happy to have you join our team. Let me see what we still have available.”
Penny watched as Keri turned to her computer, fingers tapping the keyboard and eyes darting back and forth across the screen.
“Hmm,” Keri said. “We do most of our hiring in late May and early June, so at this point in the summer, we don’t have much to offer…Oh, wait. I do see something, but it’s only part-time. Is that okay?”
“Part-time is perfect,” Penny said, sitting up straighter. This job thing is actually happening!
“I can offer you a position as a beach attendant…”
“Oh—” Penny felt herself deflate.
Keri smiled knowingly. “Not what you had in mind?”
“Well, since I don’t really have any work experience, I figured I’d be filling arcade games with prizes or, like, putting sticks into hot dogs in a back room somewhere. Beach attendant is…uh…”
Keri laughed. “You can say it. Intense, right? I know that job has a reputation for being very, very hard,” she said. “Let me tell you, I’ve done it…and it is hard. It’s like waiting tables in that you have a lot of interaction with people.” She glanced at Penny’s application again. “I see you’ve done some volunteer work at a retirement home. So you’re actually better qualified than most.”
Penny thought of the uniforms the beach attendants wore. White, formfitting polo shirts that showed every curve, and red shorts that needed to be much longer. At least on her.
Maybe there were other jobs in Ocean Park Heights. She could keep looking. How could she turn down the offer without sounding like a spoiled brat and ruining her chances of getting hired next year? Penny started putting together an excuse-apology combo in her mind.
There was a sudden knock at the door. “Yes?” Keri called out.
The door opened and a boy poked his head in.
Black hair with shaggy, dyed-bleach-blond bangs. Intense eyes. And now, a dazzling smile.
“Ah,” the boy said. “Sorry, Keri, I didn’t know you were in a meeting.”
“No, it’s fine, come on in,” Keri said, waving the boy toward her. Penny saw that he was wearing the exact uniform she’d been picturing. But it looked good on him. Better than good.
“Penny, this is Dex Nakashima,” Keri continued. “You’d actually be working with him. He’s a beach attendant, too.”
Dex turned to Penny and flashed another luminescent smile as he extended his hand. “Hey, Penny. Welcome to the team.”
“She hasn’t accepted the job yet,” Keri told him.
“I’ll take it,” Penny heard herself say. A little too fast. A little too enthusiastically.
Dex’s smile widened.
Oh crap, Penny thought. What did I just do?
WHEN DANIELLA’S PHOTO OF THE BUCKET LIST landed on Lainie’s phone, Lainie was lost in 1984.
May 14, 1984, to be exact. The day her grandmother officially opened Dulcie’s Bake Shop in a corner storefront three blocks from the beach.
The photo was faded and a little blurry, but Lainie could see how brightly Nana was beaming as she stood next to the display case full of pastries. She was holding up a five-dollar bill from Dulcie’s very first customer (aka their next-door neighbor Fred, but he still counted).
Lainie was supposed to be cleaning fingerprints off the glass cookie jars, but it was more interesting to examine the collage of photos on the wall above the cash register. There was a shot of Nana in front of the bakery oven, holding a baby that, unbelievably, was Lainie’s mom. Then one of her mom as a little girl mixing up a bowl of batter, and another as a teenager in an apron working the counter. Pictures of friends and neighbors and decades of a life in Ocean Park Heights.
How can they just say goodbye to all this? Lainie thought.
“Hey, you! Don’t get distracted.” It was Nana’s voice, over her shoulder. “There’s a possible buyer coming in today and everything needs to be clean.”
Lainie raised her eyebrows and glanced at the cookie jar, fantasizing about smearing it with chocolate-covered fingers. “What, so if the place isn’t spotless, they won’t want to buy it?”
Nana shook her head and wagged a finger. “I see where that brain of yours is going and…nuh-uh. Don’t even think about it.”
Damn it, she’s good. “You really believe I’d try to sabotage you selling the bakery?”
“Okay,” Nana replied, softening into a smile. “Maybe you wouldn’t try. But you’d fantasize about it.”
Lainie snorted a laugh. “And what would happen if I found a way to pull it off, and nobody buys the bakery? Would you have to stay through next summer, and maybe even the summer after that? And then, you know, forever?”
Nana searched Lainie’s face. “Or until you can run it yourself? Is that what you want, mija?”
How was her grandmother so creepy-good at reading her mind?
Lainie just shrugged, thinking, Yes. No. Maybe? She returned to that opening-day photo and poured herself into it.
“Do you ever wish you could go back in time to that moment?” she asked Nana, pointing to younger-Nana in the picture.
Nana peered at her old self. “I don’t need to. Those days are always right here.” She put her hand over her heart.
Lainie rolled her eyes. “Easy for you to say. You and your heart will be living it up in Florida. I’ll be stuck in boring upstate New York with Mom and Dad.” And the friends I only know from online, Lainie added in her head. She ran a Discord server for skater kids, and sometimes they were the only people her age she could really talk to. Except in Ocean Park Heights, where Daniella, Penny, and Carly made friendship feel easy…and for two months a year, she didn’t feel so alone.
“You can stay with us in Vero Beach for as long as you want each summer,” Nana said. “And I’m sure your friends will invite you down the shore for a visit.”
“That’s one hundred and ten percent not the same.”
Nana stared at Lainie, then ruffled her hair. “I know. But things change, and you have to change with them.”
Lainie scoffed, then dropped the rag she was using to clean the cookie jars and started walking toward the door to the back room. She didn’t want advice or words of wisdom. She just wanted her family to understand how hard and truly horrible all of this was for her.
Suddenly Lainie’s phone dinged. She stopped outside the kitchen door to check it and saw the message from Daniella with the photo of Carly’s Bucket List. That unmistakable handwriting in the legendary purple pen.
so are you in? Daniella had texted. For Lainie, there had never been an easier question to answer.
“Everything okay?” Nana asked.
Lainie looked over at her grandmother, tears welling in her eyes. She nodded.
That Dulcie’s opening day photo was the past, a dead end. This photo on her phone, though. The Bucket List. It was the past and also, somehow, the present and the future. Or at least, the next two months. That was enough future for now.
Lainie had just finished texting with Daniella and Penny when the bakery door jingled open. There was a wave of high-pitched voices, and the lower, musical tones of Nana greeting them. She sighed and braced herself for the morning rush.
The next two hours were a blur of customers. Lainie could tell who was a vacationer, who was “summer people,” and who was a year-round local. The locals were the ones she’d seen playing cards on her grandparents’ screened porch and other faces she knew from the boardwalk and shops and restaurants. Did they know her, too? Next summer, would they notice she wasn’t here anymore?
It was busy and loud and exhausting, but she loved working side by side with Nana. Nana took the orders and used her own shorthand language, sometimes with colorful hand motions (jazz hands plus peace sign fingers = one dozen) to let Lainie know what to pull from the display case or refrigerator. This way, Nana could sit when she needed to and Lainie did all the bending, lifting, and twisting.
They’d just served their way through a line of customers and finally—at least for a few minutes—had a break. Nana went into the back to take something out of the oven. The bakery was empty except for two people sitting at the table in the far corner. Lainie tried to scan them without being obvious. A woman in a business suit and spiky high heels. A guy in a leather jacket and expensive-looking sneakers. She didn’t remember handling their orders.
“Hi, folks,” Lainie called to them. “Can I get you anything?”
“We’re looking for Dulcie,” the woman said. “I’m Christina Hamady? We have an appointment, but we’re a bit early.”
Heat flushed through Lainie’s body as she realized who these people must be. Could she tell them Nana wasn’t there? Could she say Nana had changed her mind about selling and they needed to please go away and never come back?
“She’s in the kitchen. I’ll get her for you.”
Lainie found Nana resting in a chair, her head against the wall.
“Nana,” she whispered. “That buyer person is here. Although he looks more like a movie star than someone who wants to run a bakery.”
“Oh my!” Nana exclaimed, standing up and smoothing her skirt. She bounced up and out of the kitchen so fast, she let the door swing into Lainie’s face.
Lainie watched from the small round window in the door as Nana shook hands with the man. He flashed her a smile that was too white and bright. Then he peered at the walls and ceiling, and moved his face close to the huge glass windows to examine those, too. He ran one finger along the counter and touched all five of the tiny tables in the seating area.
Jeez, dude, Lainie thought. Where are your white gloves?
When Nana led her guests toward the kitchen, Lainie backed up and grabbed a rag, pretending to be wiping down the front of an oven.
“Mr. Mason, this is my granddaughter, Alaina,” Nana said when they came in the door.
Lainie knew she should offer her hand or at least put on a friendly smile. She wasn’t going to.
“Hello,” she said stiffly. In her head, she added, FYI, jerk, you are NOT going to turn Dulcie’s Bake Shop into a place that charges five dollars for a plain old cup of coffee or sells only one very specific thing, like macarons. I will not let you.
“Honey,” Nana said to Lainie, “Mr. Mason owns two cafés in Chicago. They’re very well known!”
“He’s a key player in the restaurant world out there,” the Realtor added. “We’re lucky that he’s relocating to OPH.”
Mr. Mason smiled as he glanced around the kitchen. “I’m the lucky one. This place is a treasure. I was just telling your grandmother that if I bought Dulcie’s, I’d want to keep everything on the menu. Maybe add some gourmet grab-and-go sandwiches and salads, easy things for people to bring to the beach. A few craft drinks, too. And I would paint. Probably bring in some new tables and chairs.”
“Oh, we’ve needed new tables and chairs for years,” Nana said. “And the last time we painted, Lainie was a baby.”
As Mr. Mason did a slow lap around the kitchen and Nana’s office, taking in every inch of the space, Nana came over and put her arm around Lainie’s shoulders. Lainie wanted to relax into her, knew she needed to, but she kept her back squared and stiff.
Finally, Mr. Mason shot the Realtor a meaningful look and pointed to the door.
She nodded and turned to Nana. “Mrs. Muñoz, do you mind if we go out front so we can talk in private?”
Nana gestured for them to go ahead. While they were out of the room, Lainie repeated a little prayer in her head. Please make them walk away and never come back. Please make them walk away and never come back.
But a few minutes later, Mr. Mason burst through the door with a bright smile on his face.
Hey, higher power, Lainie thought. You suck!
“Mrs. Muñoz,” he began, “I can tell you right now that I’d like to buy your bakery. But I have a few conditions.”
“Oh?” Nana asked, raising her eyebrows.
“First, would you let me keep the Dulcie’s name?”
Nana let out a relieved laugh. “Of course.”
“And would you let me work with you on the transition?”
Nana stopped laughing, bemused.
“I don’t see why not. That would make sense, yes?”
“A lot of sense,” Mr. Mason said. “And finally…”
He turned and opened the door. A teenage girl stepped through it. She appeared to be a couple years older than Lainie, with short brown hair in a pixie cut. Heavy black eyeliner, nose ring, pierced septum. A half-bored, half-resentful expression to complete the look. She looked Lainie up and down then rolled her eyes, discreetly enough that the adults didn’t see it. But Lainie definitely did.
“This is my daughter, Sasha,” Mr. Mason said. “If I buy the bakery, I’d like her to have a job here this summer as part of the transition.”
Lainie shot Nana a desperate, panicked glance that said, No. Freaking. Way.
Nana didn’t see it. She gazed at Sasha, then broke into a friendly smile and reached out to take the girl’s hand.
DANIELLA LISTENED TO THE WAIL OF A SIREN through the tiny bathroom window, super loud, very close, catching her breath as the noise started fading into the distance.
“Daniella?” Dr. Richards asked on the other end of her cell phone. “Are you still there?”
She shook herself back to the here and now. “Yes, sorry.”
“I was asking, how do you feel about the skills we just went over? Can you realistically use them today, if you need to?”
“I think so,” Daniella replied, taking three slow steps toward the bathroom door, turning around, then taking three steps toward the tub. She’d been pacing like this for the whole call.
“Good. I’ll look forward to hearing about it when we have our video session next week. Until then, you can text me anytime.”
Daniella sank down onto the closed toilet seat. “Thanks for being able to talk to me this morning,” she told Dr. Richards, even though she knew her mom had arranged this weeks ago.
After she and Dr. Richards said goodbye and hung up, Daniella crept back into her and Zoe’s bedroom, then flopped onto her bottom bunk. During the call, she’d been asked to mentally walk through her first day of the music program, dealing with different situations and triggers that might come up. She’d done an incredible job, in her imaginary day. Really rocked it.
