Summer Fling

“I hope you do.” Brittany wondered what Nik, who owned homes in San Francisco, New York, London and Greece, would make of her simple beach house and then shrugged away the thought. It was home and she loved it. And simple or not, it was worth a lot of money. She’d had numerous offers from people willing to pay for the privilege of living in the relative seclusion of Shell Bay on the much-sought-after Puffin Island.

But Brittany had never considered selling.

Castaway Cottage was special to her.

True, there had been times growing up when the community on Puffin Island had felt suffocating, but whenever she returned home after long absences she discovered how much she missed it. After the relentless summer heat of Greece it would be bliss to feel the cool breeze on her face and fall asleep listening to the crash of the surf. She wanted to taste lobster and pick blueberries. Most of all she wanted to see her two closest friends.

Emily was now living on the island and Skylar was only a short flight away in Manhattan.

“How will you manage?” Lily was still fussing. “How are you going to cook and care for yourself? You struggled when you tried to change midflight.”

Halfway across the Atlantic Brittany had roused herself enough to use the sleek bathroom in the Gulfstream and change into clean shorts and a simple strap top. Lily, ever sensitive, had appeared and offered to brush and braid her hair. It drove Brittany crazy that she couldn’t do it herself and she was forced to admit that Lily had a point.

How was she going to manage with just one hand? Cook? Shower?

For someone as independent as her, the next few weeks were going to be frustrating.

“I’ll be fine. I can eat cereal from the packet with my left hand.”

“Do you need me to come and stay for a while?” Lily’s warmth and generosity was one of the many reasons Brittany loved her. They’d been working together on the same project for several months in Greece, sharing a small airless bedroom. Brittany knew that living in such close quarters, it was Lily’s patience that had prevented irritation arising. And it was that sweet nature that had snared the notoriously tough Nik Zervakis, who had the sense to know when he’d struck gold and put an enormous diamond on Lily’s finger before anyone else could.

“You need to start your new life. And if there’s one thing there’s plenty of on Puffin Island, it’s help. My friend Emily is living in the cottage right now so I’ll be fine. Go and have fun. But invite me to the wedding.”

Lily’s face lit up like a light bulb. “Of course. We were thinking we might get married next summer in Greece. I want Nik’s family to be there. I don’t have family of my own so I’ve adopted his.”

Brittany smiled. Of all the benefits that came from marrying a shockingly wealthy man, the thing her friend coveted most was not the size of his wallet or his powerful connections, but his family.

“I might be there next summer,” she said. “I haven’t decided. My research post has finished so I need to think about next steps. And whatever step I take, I need to do it without breaking my wrist again. Stay in touch.” She moved to the front of the plane. A small part of her envied her friend. Not the wealth, although money was always useful of course. No, what she envied was the connection Lily had with Nik. The closeness. Their relationship had been a whirlwind, but no one who saw them could possibly believe what they shared was anything other than deep, genuine and long lasting. Already their depth of understanding and mutual appreciation was rooted deep.

She’d never had that.

Even in her short, ill-fated marriage, she’d never had emotional intimacy.

Giving her friends a final farewell hug, she left the luxury of the plane and made her way to the Cessna seaplane that would take her direct to Puffin Island.

She was relieved to have been spared the ferry. At this time of year it would be crowded with day-trippers and summer visitors keen to enjoy all that Puffin Island had to offer. In recent years the island had attracted a colorful crowd—artists, musicians, wealthy folk looking for an exclusive retreat that still offered the trappings of civilization.

Brittany was happy to use Wi-Fi when it was available, but equally happy when it wasn’t. To her, luxury was a word that c

ould as easily be applied to a night sleeping in the desert under a canopy of stars as it could to a night in a five-star hotel sleeping in silk sheets. Luxury was the freedom to explore and indulge her adventurous spirit.

In pursuit of that adventure, she’d traveled the world. After leaving the United States, she’d moved to the UK and done her masters and then her doctorate. During her time she’d followed in the footsteps of Hiram Bingham and trekked the Inca trail to the lost city of Machu Picchu, joined excavations in Egypt and virtually adopted Greece as her second home. But Maine—Maine was her first home and always would be.

Her heart was here. Her roots. Her history.

As an archaeologist, she was someone who knew the importance of roots and history.

With a smile of anticipation, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Emily, who had been using Castaway Cottage over the summer.

I’m at Logan. Can’t wait to catch up.

It was ironic that she’d offered Emily the sanctuary of the cottage when Emily was in trouble, and now Brittany was in trouble herself.

That turn of events had been unexpected.

Brittany slid her phone back into her pocket and glanced at her wrist. The plaster felt hot and heavy against her skin. The restriction of movement frustrated her. Still, it could be worse. It was nothing a few weeks of rest wouldn’t heal, and it would give her time to work out what she wanted to do next. Should she apply for a tenure track faculty job in the United States? Or maybe return to Cambridge where she’d spent so many happy years, or even Greece. She loved everything about the island of Crete. The history, the climate, the food, the people.

She’d spent the early part of the summer flirting with Spyros, a local archaeologist who had been part of the team from Athens. He’d made it clear he was up for more than flirtation, but at the time she’d chosen to keep their relationship platonic. Now she was wondering if that had been a mistake. She’d enjoyed their friendship. He was attractive and charming.