She focused every which way but on Bowie. Everything interested her right now: the torn-up driveway, the gutters that had accumulated fallen leaves that needed to be taken care of, and the cars that continuously drove up the road, bypassing the inn and essentially forgetting about the woman who lived there. Very few people lived on this road, so where were they going? And who were they? People who considered themselves friends of Austin’s? The same friends that left his mother alone for years? She may have left after his funeral, but at least she had her reasons. What were theirs?
Her wandering eyes finally turned toward the carriage house, where her daughter was. She wasn’t ready to explain Brystol to anyone, let alone Bowie. She’d figured out after her encounter with Monroe at the store earlier that no one knew she had a daughter. Yet another mystery when it came to Carly. She was starting to question what went on here during the summers, and whether Carly ever left the house. Brystol never complained when she would come back to wherever Brooklyn was working, always telling her mom that she’d had the best time with her grandparents. Brooklyn always assumed Carly was part of that statement. They were close, Brystol and Carly. “Thick as thieves” was what Simone called them. And yet, while she stood there, she mentally kicked her own ass for not prodding her daughter for more information. She should’ve been adult enough to deal with the pain. If Brystol had told her that her grandmother lived the life of a recluse, Brooklyn would’ve done something sooner. What she really needed to do was talk to her parents. How come they never mentioned anything when they came to pick Brystol up for the summer?
She chanced a look at Bowie. That was a mistake. His penetrating gaze made her already upset stomach twist into knots. He tilted his head, appraising her.
“I asked you a question,” he repeated for the third time.
“I’m fairly certain we both know what we’re doing here, Bowie. The question is why?” In her field of business, renovators were a dime a dozen. Carly could’ve easily called someone from Seattle or Portland to do the job. The reason Bowie was here was simple. She knew he was in construction. Right out of high school he had followed in his father’s footsteps, something he always swore he would never do. Brooklyn had declared she would leave after she graduated high school. She had wanted to move back to Seattle with her parents and attend the University of Washington to become a nurse. She hadn’t. She’d waited for Austin. Austin, who’d promised her they would move once his business took off. The business had thrived, and yet the move was pushed off for one reason or the other until both Austin and Brooklyn had had enough.
Moving from a metropolis to a small town had a way of changing your path as well as your life. The hopes and dreams she had when she arrived in Cape Harbor were quickly set aside. Her new friends weren’t dreamers. Not in the sense that she was. Mila was already practicing her acting skills in local productions, and Monroe had already started tutoring. Bowie worked for his father, even though he hated it. Austin and Grady were fishing every chance they got and talking about heading to Alaska for summer break, where they could make enough money to start their own business after they graduated. Brooklyn, Jason Randolph, and Graham Chamberlain were the only ones destined to leave. Jason and Graham had left, as planned, but Brooklyn had stayed.
She’d fallen hard for Austin Woods, which in her eyes had meant his dreams became hers. Her mother had been the same way when she’d met Brooklyn’s father. Love at first sight, drop everything for the man you were in love with, and follow him to the ends of the earth. Brooklyn was following the example her mother had laid out for her, despite her parents encouraging her to do what she wanted; that love would still be there if it were meant to be. When Brooklyn would bring up the career path she wanted to follow, Austin would always tell her there would be time for her to do her thing once his business took off. There would always be time. The problem was that it didn’t matter to Austin if it was five minutes, six hours, forty days, or three years. It just simply meant not right now. Thinking back, Brooklyn should’ve seen the signs early, but that first love was all-consuming. Being in love meant something to her. It meant she had a purpose, a reason for being, that moving away from her life and friends in Seattle had been a good thing. She was head over heels for this boy, and she put her dreams aside to help him fulfill his.