Imagine Summer, page 1
Dedication
To Jerry, whose friendship was a journey of discovery for us all
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Acknowledgments
Reading Group Guide
About the Author
Also by Shelley Noble
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
As a child, Skylar Mackenzie’s imagination always got her in trouble. Now it was making her a fortune. Well, maybe not a fortune, but enough. More than enough. And it kept growing.
Skye clicked out of the month’s expense spreadsheet and stood up, stretching with satisfaction. She was tired, but it was worth it.
She pushed the desk chair under the desk and grabbed her bag before taking a last look around her office, the smallest room in the two storefront spaces that made up Imagine That and Imagine That Too.
She walked through both areas every night, making sure that the lights were turned off and that everything that needed to be unplugged or put away was. But really she did this just to bask in the residual hum of ideas and art still hanging in the air. It was remarkable what good energy people could make if they only would.
The results of that evening’s adult Pipe Dreams class, an unbridled hour of pipe cleaner creativity, were lined up on a shelf ready to be picked up or added to at the next session. Some were two-dimensional, like paintings; others defied gravity to rise in the air.
Every one of them was amazing.
Skye smiled, knowing that at least two of the people participating in tonight’s class had been executives from a Hartford advertising firm who had asked her if she’d ever thought about designing de-stressing workshops for corporations.
She’d practically laughed in their faces. She was dead on her feet most nights. With just the two stores and the upcoming summer discovery weekend, she was swamped. She didn’t even have time or energy for the people who meant the most to her.
Who knew that a crazy idea she’d thrown out in the pub one night after a couple of beers would turn into this? Skye’s announcement of “I want to open up an idea store” was met first with silence, then “Why the hell not” from her mostly on-again significant other, Jack. Seconded enthusiastically by her best friend, Maya, and her husband, Sonny, who merely said, “Huh,” and after an elbow from Maya, added, “Sounds great.”
So she did.
First a book, toy, and activity store for children, it quickly expanded into the vacant store next door, which was refitted to include several Creativity Without Borders areas for children and adults alike. Maya took on the day-to-day running of the store, and the discovery sessions were led by a bevy of volunteer and hired docents and artists. Which left Skye to keep everything working smoothly, scheduling workers and workshops, ordering supplies, balancing the books, and everything else.
She switched off the lights, set the alarm, then turned left out of the store, taking one last quick peek through the glass window. All was quiet. She blew at strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail and smiled to herself in her window reflection.
“Onward and upward,” she said to the night and turned down the sidewalk toward Mike’s Dog and Pony Pub to meet her friends.
She spotted Jack first. Tall and lanky, he was leaning on the bar in conversation with Mike himself, who bartended on weeknights, and Skye paused just to appreciate the view. Maya called Jack a lean, mean, furniture-designing machine, unlike Maya’s husband and Jack’s partner, Sonny, who was built more along the lines of Thor.
Skye scooted onto the free stool beside Jack and kissed his cheek. He smelled like soap; his hair was still damp from a shower and curled at the ends, dampening the frayed neck of his favorite T-shirt.
“Hey,” Jack said. “Sonny and Maya are in the back booth. I just stopped to shoot the breeze with Mike.”
Mike slid Skye’s favorite microbrew toward her. “I’m trying to get his advice on some tear-off coupons to put up during Discover It Weekend. Jack said he’d come up with something with some real pizzazz.”
Jack leaned back to reveal several paper napkins with scribbling on them.
“Looks like you succeeded,” Skye said and took a well-deserved sip of beer.
“A beer on the house? I couldn’t say no,” Jack said and waggled his eyebrows at her.
“Well, I wouldn’t say no to you ordering a burger and sweet potato fries,” Skye said. “And me tasting a few. I’m starving, but I promised Aunt Roxy and Hildy I would have dinner with them.”
Jack gathered up the napkins, folded them into his T-shirt pocket, and slid Skye off the stool. She just had time to grab her beer before his arm was around her waist and they were making a beeline for their usual booth.
There were way too many empty tables. It was midweek but it was summer. Each year the burgers and beer got better, but the foot traffic got worse. Once the college students left for home, downtown became a virtual ghost town. It filled up again at midsummer when the tourists flooded in, but that was mainly because the town beach had a perfect view of the Newport Fourth of July fireworks without the Newport traffic and parking restrictions.
The Fourth was only a week away and though the weekends were beginning to pick up, the local businesses were still feeling the bite during the week.
But the town had a plan, starting with Skye’s Discover It Weekend. Enough fun to appeal to families and sophisticated enough to bring in the big bucks. But it was taking a huge amount of planning as well as the physical refitting of the old family camp by the river to accommodate the two hundred participants. Lots of planning—and even more persuasion to convince Herb Pritchard to delay the camp’s sale until after the summer.
Fingers crossed everything would come together with time to spare. And the improvements that Skye was making would add sale value to the camp for the Pritchards.
“All done?” Maya asked when Skye slid into the dark green banquette across from her.
“Ye-ep. And I must say we had a very good June. And thanks to you, by the way.”
Maya frowned. “Me?”
Skye noticed that Maya had pulled her normally straight hair onto the top of her head into an explosion of shiny, black curls. When had she starting curling her hair? Was it possible that Skye hadn’t noticed?
“What did I do?” Maya asked.
“Sundays in the Park with George?” Skye said. “Brilliant. Story hour with George Zenakis, he of the silvery voice, accompanied by Tizzy Lane’s homemade ice cream and a goldendoodle. It was bound to be a success.”
“And messy,” Sonny added in his rumbly voice.
Maya snuggled comically against him, her petite, small-boned figure practically disappearing into his six feet of muscle.
“Amazing how much ice cream a dog can wear after an hour of quiet reading,” Maya said and smiled adoringly at her husband.
Skye and Jack exchanged looks. Their friends were laying it on thick tonight.
“Well, here’s something else to think about,” Skye said.
Bea Clark came to take their order. Bea had been the Pony’s barmaid “since forever” and knew everybody’s favorite beer and their most deeply hidden secrets.
“You’re not eating?” she asked Skye, pulling her pencil out from behind her ear. “Oh right, it’s girls’ night at Roxy’s. Tell them I said hi.” Bea took their orders and stuck her pencil, which she hadn’t used, back behind her ear and headed off toward the kitchen.
“What else do we need to think about?” Sonny asked. “We’ve got a pretty full bill already. And you know, Jack and I do have to work on stuff that pays sometimes . . .”
Maya elbowed him in the ribs. “I pay you.”
“You sure do, babe.”
“Could you two—” Skye noticed the orange juice at Maya’s place instead of her usual microbrew. She lifted both eyebrows in question.
Maya and Sonny turned as one to grin across the table.
“We’re pregnant,” Maya said, then hiccuped and burst into tears. “Happy tears,” she managed before throwing her arms around Sonny and sobbing while Sonny gently patted her back and shrugged at the other two.
“That’s incredible,” Skye said, then thought, What a stupid thing to say. They’d been trying for several years already. “That’s wonderful,” she amended. “I’m so happy for you.” She cut a look at Jack, who took the cue.
“Oh, yeah. That’s great.”
Skye rolled her eyes at him. “So tell us everything. When are you due? Are you going to find out if it’s a boy or girl? We’ll have to have a shower,” she effused, while her selfish side thought, Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re going to have to quit work.
But even if she did, Skye was real
Well, hell, now they could do both.
“Here’s to new Baby Daniels,” Skye said and lifted her beer bottle.
Bea came back with the salads. “What are we celebrating?” she asked, neatly placing three bowls on the table.
Skye looked at Maya.
“We’re pregnant,” Maya practically sang.
“Well, honey, that is good news. When’s the shower? I gotta get over to Newport and get some baby yarn. Blue or pink?”
“Don’t know,” Maya said. “We’re going to be surprised.”
“Well, okeydokey then,” Bea said. “Rainbow yarn to the rescue. Back in a jiff with your meals.” They watched as she stopped at several tables on her way to the kitchen. Then the smiles and waves from the other diners.
“One thing about a small town,” Sonny said. “Everybody knows your business.”
“It’s like a big family,” Maya said, her eyes swimming again.
Yeah, thought Skye. “It is.”
They all toasted the new addition and Skye peppered the expectant couple with questions until the food came. Then she picked at Jack’s fries while she listened to Maya happily describe their plans for a nursery, shopping for the safest car seat . . .
Skye needed to get going, but she didn’t want to cut Maya’s exuberance short. She knew that as soon as she left, the two men would turn the conversation to other important topics like wood types, truck repairs, and who was favored for the weekend game.
But she couldn’t wait any longer without being late. She took a last sip of her beer and motioned for Jack to scoot over. “I hate to leave all this excitement, but Hildy’s making brisket and I don’t want to keep them waiting. Congratulations, you two.”
“See you later?” Jack asked as she got out of the booth.
“Yep. Your house or mine?”
“Mine. I want to get this design done for Mike. I think he’s just a little concerned about business.”
Mike and most of the town, Skye thought. Only a few of the more upscale businesses were doing at all well, including hers. But she and the chamber of commerce had great hopes for the future. Now just to implement them.
“Are you coming in tomorrow?” she asked Maya.
Maya frowned. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
Skye shrugged.
“I’m good. I’m not sick, I’m pregnant!” Maya warbled into a falsetto.
Skye laughed. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait, what were you going to tell us that needed thinking about before I stopped you with my most perfect announcement?”
“What? Oh, just that two execs from the Lexington Advertising Agency in Hartford dropped in to check out the workshops.”
“Just dropped in,” Jack said drily.
“Whoa,” said Maya.
“They felt the need to de-tense with a little macramé?” Sonny asked.
“Pipe cleaner art. They wanted to know if I’d be interested in doing corporate events.”
“Wow, what did you tell them?” Maya asked.
“That I’d think about it. Now I gotta run.” A quick kiss for Jack and Skye was headed to the door.
“Corporate events, huh,” Sonny said, frowning at his wife. “You know, once the baby is born you’ll have to cut back hours, not add to them.”
“Oh, don’t be so last century. I can do a lot of work from home. And Imagine That is a perfect place to raise a baby.”
“Just don’t let Skye go off half-cocked.”
Jack couldn’t agree more. Corporate events. The thought alone made his blood run if not cold, at least lukewarm. First they tell you, sure, son, you’ll be free to work on your own designs, then suddenly you only have time to do the classic designs, and before you knew it they would take over your work and your life and you’d be working for them and doing everything their way.
“What do you think, Jack?”
That he’d given up his family because he wouldn’t make furniture his father’s way and he’d be damned if he’d let Skye’s business be swallowed whole by some corporation.
“He’ll be supportive of whatever Skye decides, won’t you, Jack?”
“Oh no you don’t,” Sonny said. “I’m not losing my partner to some harebrained scheme to turn uptight executives into navel gazers. Nope, not happening.”
“I agree,” said Jack. “I haven’t put up with all of Sonny’s bad advice for the last five years just to get sucked back into the world of working for someone else.”
“You wouldn’t be working for them. They’d be coming to us to enhance their work efficiency,” Maya argued.
“Nope,” Sonny said. “You’re going to be busy with the baby, and Jack and I got more orders than we can complete.”
Maya threw her napkin at him. “You guys are just complacent. It’s not like we’re going to drop everything for power suits and four-inch heels.”
“You’re darn right there,” said Sonny. “Four-inch heels are for one place only.”
Maya blushed.
“Don’t say it out loud,” Jack said.
“But you’ll be supportive,” Maya said.
“Aren’t we always?” Sonny asked. “But we have our own business. She can’t have him.”
“She already does, doesn’t she, Jack?” Maya shot him a sly smile.
Of course Skye had him, but Jack didn’t need to announce it in front of everyone. He would just let things take their course. That was the best way to deal with life. Things were fine the way they were. It was enough for him. But were they enough for Skye?
The walk through town to the beach was one of Skye’s favorite ways of relaxing after a day well spent. It was close to eight, dusk, not light, not dark but hovering somewhere in between.
She blew out a deep breath. Breathed in again. Ironic that someone whose business was to encourage people’s creativity in order to de-stress would so often be stressed herself. It came from owning a business, she guessed, that and being responsible for employees, and from somehow becoming an activist for the local business community.
She was happy to do it for people she cared about. She owed her creativity and her success to Aunt Roxy and Hildy and to the town. Her sense of belonging, too. Everything, if she thought about it.
Skye stopped when she came to the stone seawall just to enjoy the view. To her left the town beach was empty except for a few lingering gulls. Beyond it, the last of the setting sun glittered on the surface of the swells. Below her, a cluster of cottages sloped down to the shore.
The little neighborhood known as Sunny Point had started as a private beach community decades ago. Now it was a mix of permanent and vacation homes, summer and academic rentals, constructed in “early higgledy-piggledy” style, according to Roxy, crammed closely together wherever and in whatever direction there was room.
Skye turned right and hurried down the sidewalk until she reached the drive down to Roxy’s cottage, her feet accelerating of their own accord at the promise of dinner.
She passed several cottages, some lit up invitingly, others dark and closed until the following week. Large and small, their cedar shingles had weathered to deep grays and browns, delineated by crisp, and not so crisp, white-trimmed windows and doors.
All the cottages were quite old, having withstood the test of time by being built by trusted local builders on a slight rise above sea level. They were protected on one side by glacial boulders, and on the other by smaller jetties, coves, and inlets that laced west along the shoreline to the actual point that gave Sunny Point its name.
The drive fanned off into a number of narrow lanes that disappeared into the maze of cottages until it reached the row of beachfront houses. Aunt Roxy’s cottage sat at one end, where the drive ended at a path that passed by a peaceful cove to connect with the rest of the residences closer to the point.
Jack’s cottage was just on the other side of the cove, and if they stood in their yards, they could yell a conversation at each other across the water.
“Better than Skype,” Roxy often said.
“And louder,” Hildy would add.
Roxy’s three-story cottage was large enough to house an extended family. Something that neither Roxy nor Skye had, the family having dispersed or died out several generations ago.
