Cole shook his head. “No. Hadn’t heard that.”
I didn’t want to make a fucking big deal about it. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Yeah, we better steer clear of the cape today. It’ll be full of those damn ski boats, scaring off the fish,” Cole agreed.
Cole loosened the sailor’s knots and tossed the ropes up on the dock. With one hard shove, we started drifting in the creek, and I cranked the engine. The creek was alive with jumping mullets. I steered us under the bridge and headed east.
2
Sierra
From the small peak at the top of the bridge, the island didn’t look like much. In fact, it really wasn’t much at all. It never had been. No coffee shops. No yoga classes. There wasn’t even a gym. I didn’t know how I was going to manage the rest of the summer here.
It always felt like time travel when I came home. Home. It was a weird word to associate with this place.
I might as well have jumped in a time machine. I gripped the bridge’s railing. Damn, this island was hot. I shielded my eyes from the reflection and tried to focus on the two fading figures laughing and
sipping from koozies.
The island wasn’t more than two miles wide and five miles long. When I was a kid I’d known every square inch of it. That seemed like a million years ago now. Exploring this place was the last thing I wanted to do anymore. That girl no longer existed.
I shouldn’t be here. Leave it to Aunt Lindy to pass her estate to me in the heat of the summer.
The boat was on the horizon now. I probably had known those guys in my past life. There’d been a time when I’d known all the island guys. They wore T-shirts, deck shoes and most of them walked around with a cigarette.
Sweat trickled down my neck, and I piled my hair on my head, hoping a breeze would find me. I had wandered a little farther than I’d planned. My mission had been to jog to the store and pick up some ice for the cooler, but once I’d reached the market, I’d kept running. Maybe I was trying to outrun the heat or just outrun this feeling that I was going crazy.
I didn’t know if I could handle opening one more drawer only to find it was stuffed to the top with moth balls.
I turned from the bridge and wondered why I had ventured this far without a car. I still had to stop by the store and walk home with a bag of ice. The ice maker was broken and nowhere among the piles of Tupperware and casserole dishes had I found any ice trays.
A gust of cold air hit me as I pushed open the door to the market. Immediately, the smell of turpentine, fishing tackle, and candy bars hit my nose. It was such an odd combination to my senses. The hardwood floors had been worn from years of fishermen and islanders waiting in line at the counter for their handwritten receipts. As far as I knew, this was the last place in the world that didn’t electronically print receipts.
I smiled at the old timers huddled in the corner near the magazine rack. They tipped their hats and refocused their attention on the smooth pieces of wood they were whittling. Their rocking chairs gently rolled on curly-cued pieces of new wood shavings.
I hauled the ice to the counter and paid. The clerk handed me the ice receipt, but before I could make my way out of the door, I bumped into a woman rushing through it. Bright nail polish flashed on her toes, on display in her fluorescent flip-flops. Her earrings, obviously shells, matched a print on her T-shirt. Her arm jangled with bracelets reaching almost up to her elbow. The woman let out a shrill cry that could be heard from the other side of the street.
“Sierra Emory! Little Sierra Emory.”
I nodded meekly and smiled. Who in the hell was this woman?
“Well, shoot! I’ve been meaning to come down and say hi. I was so sorry to hear about your aunt. But tickled you’re going to be moving in.”
“Oh I-I’m not…”
She cut me off.
“That house is gorgeous. Prettiest one on the island. I’ve always said that. Always.”
“Thank you.” I nodded, but wasn’t sure what I was agreeing to. I had already decided that as soon as I sorted through Aunt Lindy’s things, I was selling the house. I couldn’t hold on to it and live in another state.
“Why don’t you join my husband and me tonight for some island-style cookin’?”
“Oh no, no. I couldn’t impose on you like that.”
I wasn’t sure which was the more embarrassing route—to admit I didn’t know who she was, or the fact that it was the Fourth of July and I had absolutely zero plans.
“You need to go ahead and learn this right now. I do not accept a no. Your aunt knew that. So just plan on being at our house at seven o’clock. It is the Fourth, and we know how to do it up right. Henry got some clams today and we’ve got a plan for them. You’ll love it.”