Safe Harbor (Scoops Series Book 1), page 3
Melanie turned her bike into the entrance and slowed, watching as the man nailed another sign underneath the first one.
Summer season: 12 days!
She leaned her bike against the fence and unhooked her helmet, smoothing out her hair, then walking over to him. “Um, excuse me.”
“Beach is open to the public,” the man huffed. “No need for a pass yet.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you, um, were hiring this summer?”
He turned to face Melanie, looking down at her polo, then back up at her face. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“Oh, um. I just moved here, my school gets out the first week of May.”
The man huffed. “Well, sorry kid, but we have no openings. We filled these positions back in March.”
Melanie nodded. “Okay, no worries, thank you.”
The man turned back to his work, finishing up nailing his sign. Melanie wondered if he truly would be coming back every day to paint the next number for the countdown until the summer season. He probably will, she thought. From what she was gathering, summer was a big deal in these parts. So much so that a simple job at a beach stand wasn’t even available.
With so many businesses on the main drag, she figured Main Street was likely her best bet for finding some kind of job, so she made her way there next. Curving down the same road she drove two days ago, she came right back to Scoops By The Sea at the corner. And there, by the window, she spotted him. Again. With a new book.
For a brief moment, she wondered if she should ask him. Scooping ice cream cones for the summer could be a fun job, and the place would definitely be air-conditioned. But then she thought back to his comments about her clothes, the assumptions he made about her being a “summer person.” Her face tightened as she pressed her lips into a firm line. No, she didn’t want to deal with him. She sped up on her bike and turned the corner, eyeing the different businesses on that main strip, before her heart sank.
Everything was closed. It was one o’clock on a Monday afternoon, and Melanie was shocked that the town looked like a ghost land. Sea Breeze Cafe, Penny’s Pizzeria, Haverport Cinemas, Pop’s Seafood, Bayview Antiques—all closed. Even Grampy’s was dark. No line for magical blueberry coffee cake, no scents of butter and cinnamon and sugar.
Melanie sighed as she turned to head back up Main, making a mental note to come out here first thing tomorrow and try again. When she finally made it back near Scoops, a small line had formed. She watched the guy who was likely Calvin hand a customer a hot fudge sundae with a bright red cherry on top.
She squeezed her handlebars. She may not like him, but if he was connected in town, he might know who was hiring, which could save Melanie a lot of time going into each business and embarrassing herself tomorrow.
She hopped off her bike and pushed it toward Scoops, leaning it against the brick wall. As she unhooked her helmet and walked toward the front, she immediately saw him through the glass. He was mixing some kind of milkshake. He carefully finished, turning to grab a lid for the cup, and locked eyes with Melanie through the window. The smirk that sprouted on his face was knowing—like he expected her to come back.
She nervously swung her helmet by her side while she waited for him to finish his orders before approaching the window herself.
“Where’s the headband today?”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t fit well underneath my helmet.”
Calvin pointed toward her bike. “Nice bike. New?”
“Yeah,” Melanie said quietly, the confidence quickly draining from her body.
“The red bow sort of gives it away,” he said.
Melanie turned and noticed the red bow from her dad still tied to the basket. She silently cursed herself.
“Back for more ice cream, headband?”
Melanie rolled her eyes again as she faced him. “No, actually. I’m looking for a job.”
Calvin’s eyes widened slightly. “Here? At Scoops?”
“Um, yes,” she said. “But also, if you know anywhere in town…”
“No,” he said sharply. “Everyone’s all booked up. Summer jobs are coveted around here. Every shop in town is fully staffed by March or April.”
She exhaled loudly, feeling frustrated. “And here?”
“Here as well,” Calvin said. “Although Ron hires back the same people every summer. Positions only open up when someone leaves for good.”
“And what happens when a position opens up?” Melanie asked.
“Well, he goes through his applications, I guess,” he said. “But he never touches them, no need.”
“I’ll take one.”
Calvin’s eyebrows furrowed. “Didn’t you just hear me, we’re boo—”
“I don’t care,” she snipped, surprising herself by the frustrated tone in her voice. “I’d still like to apply.”
Calvin sighed, pressing his arms up from the counter, his tricep muscles flexing. She swallowed hard, averting her gaze. “Fine,” he said dryly. “Wait here.”
She waited for what felt like an eternity, wondering if he was taking his sweet time on purpose, probably hoping she would just eventually give up and leave. But it made Melanie all the more stubborn as she waited. She crossed her arms tightly around her chest.
He finally came back up the front, sliding a paper application on the counter. He tossed a pen her way and pointed to the counter at the other end of the shop. “Fill it out there while I take these customers.”
She looked behind her, noticing a small line had formed. She nodded, grabbing the application and heading for the other counter, meticulously filling it out. After writing down the obvious things—name, age, phone number—she came to a set of open-ended questions.
What’s your favorite ice cream flavor, and why?
The question seemed like a silly filler, but at a place like Scoops, it probably meant a great deal to have a favorite. She scanned the menu, thinking back to the countless times she would bike here with Duncan, remembering how she would always order the same thing as Duncan made his way through the Scoops menu.
Strawberry. It’s underrated.
She filled out a few other questions, trying to think of something witty or smart to say with each answer.
Until she hit the final one.
Why do you want to work at Scoops?
Melanie paused, tapping the pen on the counter for a few beats before hunching over her paper.
Because I need a fresh start.
She clicked the pen and walked back to the counter as Calvin handed out a cone to the last customer. She stepped up and carefully slid him her application and the pen.
He glanced at it before looking back up at her. “Don’t expect a call.”
Melanie huffed. “Is no one in town really hiring?”
Calvin shook his head. “And don’t bother trying today, it’s Monday.”
Melanie stared at him for a beat, waiting for him to explain. Like it made sense that things were closed on a weekday.
He sighed, sounding audibly frustrated. “Weekends are big for business here, so most businesses take a ‘weekend’ on Monday. Some drop the day off during the summer, but during the off-season, the town is shut down on Mondays.”
“Then why are you open?”
“Scoops is only open between March and October, so Ron keeps it open every day.”
“And school?” Melanie asked, surprising herself with such an invasive question.
Calvin’s eyebrows raised as he crossed his arms. “Senior dismissal,” he said. “I get out at noon.”
She nodded and glanced toward her bike, not sure what else to say, aware that those bright blue eyes were on her. “Okay well, I should go.”
“Again, don’t expect a call.”
She rolled her eyes. “I get it, Calvin.”
His eyes widened. “How’d you know my name?”
Melanie’s face flushed as she quickly clipped her helmet on her head, grabbing her bike. Shit.
“Headband! Who told you my name!?”
Melanie ignored him, mounting her bike and speeding off, hoping he didn’t get a glance at her cheeks which were certainly brighter than the color of her favorite ice cream.
Chapter Three
The door to Melanie’s room creaked open. It was early. Or late? The sun hadn’t even touched the horizon yet so Melanie assumed it was the middle of the night as she blinked her eyes open and watched Duncan tip-toe his way inside. He smiled shyly, taking a seat at the corner of her bed as she sat up, crisscrossing her legs.
“Hey,” Duncan whispered.
He did it. He spoke to her.
“Hey back,” Melanie said, her voice catching in her throat.
The two of them sat there in silence for a moment. Melanie watched as Duncan played with his hands, his long dirty blonde curls shifting in front of his face. She was always jealous of his bright curls, wondering why he was the one blessed with those genes when her hair was darker, frizzier, and always out of place. She needed a large dollop of hair product and a good half hour with her straightener to get it looking halfway decent.
She shifted awkwardly, waiting for her brother to speak first. She hated seeing such anguish on his face, but he was here. In her room. Talking to her. It was a long time since he had approached her like this. Almost three years now.
Duncan huffed, and she could immediately smell it on his breath. Some kind of cheap whiskey. Her back went rigid. How did he already have access to booze?
“They’re making me repeat junior year,” Duncan finally revealed, his face half hidden as he continued to play with his hands.
Melanie exhaled, stunned into silence. That meant they wouldn’t graduate together. They wouldn’t sit side by side and receive their diplomas, take a picture with Mom and Dad, wearing dark green robes with white ribbons and threads. Or…whatever the Haverport High school colors were.
She wasn’t sure what to say at first. She tried reaching for his hand, but he pulled away from her. It was like the tiny spell that broke the magic in her room. He sat up from her bed and started for her door.
“Duncan, wait,” Melanie whispered, flinging her quilt off of her to get up herself. “Talk to me.”
But he was already out of her bedroom, heading for his own. Melanie watched as he swiftly shut the door, locking it with a muffled click.
She crawled back into her bed even though sleep had completely escaped her. She leaned against her headboard and watched as the sun slowly started to rise above the water, a mix of burnt orange and purple painting the sky.
She thought through the last time he came into her room like this, the memory she played over and over in her head. She always wondered if she should have done something different, wondered if there was something she could have said to change it all.
It was the summer before their freshman year, two weeks after their week in Haverport. They had to go a bit earlier that summer, to make room for Duncan’s lacrosse tryouts. Garrison’s lacrosse teams were continually ranked the best in the entire state of Connecticut, so they started everything early.
Duncan was one of two freshmen who made Junior Varsity. When he got the email, he screamed. Melanie remembered hugging her brother tightly as their parents tackled them in a group hug. Mom made a big platter of tacos for dinner that night—Duncan’s favorite. Dad pulled out the leftover ice cream cake they saved from Scoops as the four of them demolished the rest of it with spoons in hand, no plates necessary.
But what was meant to be one of the happiest memories soon became a nightmare.
Duncan was invited to hang with the team later that night, a Garrison lacrosse tradition. Mom gave him a quick hug before he left and told him she was so proud of him. Dad leaned over and whispered something about being safe and making smart choices, from what Melanie could make out.
Duncan nodded, a gleam in his eye. The same one he had when he slowly opened her door four hours later before sloppily plopping down on her bed.
“Mel, wake up,” he whispered to her. He reached out his hand and started shaking her elbow. “Get up, stupid.”
“Why are you in here, weirdo?” She let out a big yawn.
“Mel, guess what.”
She rolled her eyes. “It better be worth waking me up or I’m going to strangle you.”
Duncan looked back at the door as if to make sure no one was listening before leaning closer to her. “Mel, I had a beer.”
She could smell it. His breath was pungent and sour. She froze.
“Actually, I had a few beers,” he said, giggling to himself. “I always thought it was gross, but turns out, I kind of like it.”
“You drank?” Melanie said, still in shock. She knew this would likely happen someday, that one of them would try alcohol at some point. But she figured it wouldn’t be so soon. They weren’t even freshmen in high school yet.
“Yeah, but it was totally chill,” Duncan said confidently. “You should come next time.”
Melanie’s face fell. “To a lacrosse team party?”
“It wasn’t really just the lacrosse team,” Duncan explained. “There were a few girls there, some from the girl’s team, others were friends or girlfriends or whatever.”
Melanie shifted uncomfortably in her bed, not sure how to respond. Drinking? He wanted her to drink?
Duncan looked at her like he could read her mind. He was always good at that, looking at her face and pretty much knowing instantly how she felt. He joked that it was the “twin thing,” even though Melanie wasn’t as intuitive as he was. She could never figure out what was going on in that head under all of those bright, bouncy curls.
He reached for one of her hands and squeezed. She relaxed a little at his touch. “Mel Mel, it’s really fun. And you have nothing to worry about. I’ll be there.”
When Melanie thought back on this moment, she thought of her response to his statement. Should she have said something different? Was there a different string of words that could have changed his fate?
But her response was short and evasive. “I don’t know,” she said back to him. “I’m not sure.”
He patted her hands like he was an old man. He laughed at the gesture, clearly tipsy. “I’ll tell you when the next one is,” he said quietly. “You think about it.”
Melanie slowly watched the sun rise above Haverport’s bay, pulling her out of the memory. How much he’d wanted her to go to the next party and drink with him. She thought about his reaction earlier, how different it was. How he wouldn’t even let her touch his hand, how he wouldn’t even stay in the room to hear her response. Like she burned him in some way, and the wound left a scar that was too damaged to heal.
The sky shifted into bright yellows and pinks and then gave way to blazing orange light, the seagulls soaring across the ocean and diving into the water hopeful for breakfast. Melanie lay there unmoving, unsure of what to do next. She wanted something to hope for as well. She wished everything could have been different.
Melanie sat at the kitchen table later that morning, nibbling on a piece of toast with peanut butter as Mom busied herself with cooking scrambled eggs.
“Are you sure that’s all you want, sweetie?” Mom asked.
Melanie shot her a small smile. “Positive.” She didn’t feel like her stomach could handle more than the toast in front of her at the moment. She still felt unsettled after that morning, how Duncan couldn’t even look her in the eye when he spoke the words. She opened her door hours later, hoping to get another chance to talk to him about it, but he was gone.
“Well, if you get hungry, we could always grab you something at the market,” Mom responded, walking over with a skillet and sliding eggs onto Dad’s plate. “Jan said the bagel shop still has that stand where they make all of those fresh breakfast sandwiches.”
Every Saturday during the summer season, Haverport’s elementary school parking lot transformed into a vibrant farmer’s market. Fresh produce and local vendors, small craft stands, lots of freshly baked goodies, and hot sandwiches. And of course, a particular stand decked in tie-dye and filled to the brim with jars of jam.
Today was the first one before the summer season officially started, and Melanie found herself agreeing to go as she pressed her slice of bread into the toaster.
“How’s the job hunt going?” Dad asked.
Melanie huffed. Not great, she thought. Unfortunately, Calvin was right. No one in town was hiring. Everyone already had enough workers booked up for the summer and had no need for an extra person—especially someone without any work experience or skills beyond a few babysitting gigs and the ability to make a mean deck of flash cards. But it didn’t stop her from going into every business on Main Street, asking for an application anyway, just in case something fell through. With no success, Melanie was seriously considering searching for babysitting gigs again. If so many “summer people” came into town, surely some parents would look for a babysitter every now and then?
Dad caught onto Melanie’s silence, reaching over to pat her hand. “You’ll find something. Maybe one of the vendors at the market will be looking?”
“Maybe,” Melanie mumbled, biting into her toast.
The front screen door swung open as Duncan charged in. He was drenched in sweat from an early morning run, his curls pushed back with a sweatband. He immediately went for the sink, filled a glass of water, and chugged it down. He looked down at the empty greasy skillet and frowned. “Do you have any more food?”
Mom forced her mouth into a smile. “Well, I could cook you something, or—” She hesitated, glancing at Dad first. “We’re about to head to the farmer’s market in town if you want to join. They still have those breakfast sandwiches if you want one of those instead.”
