It Happened One Summer (It Happened One Summer 1)

After the briefest hesitation, Piper huffed at him. “Don’t forget to buy soap,” she said, waving a hand in front of her face. But he didn’t miss the gratitude in those baby blues. “See you around. Maybe.”

“Probably not.”

She shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“Guess we will.”

Fine.

Done.

Nothing more to say.

It took him another handful of seconds to get moving.

And hell if he didn’t smile on his way back up West Ocean.

Chapter Seven

After the groceries had been purchased and organized in the mini-fridge, the Bellinger sisters decided to go exploring—and escape the grunge of the upstairs apartment. Now Piper sat perched on the wooden railing overlooking the harbor, head tilted to allow the early afternoon breeze to lift the hair from her neck, sunshine painting her cheek. She looked inspired and well rested, fashion-forward in a scoop-back bodysuit and skinny jeans. Chloe ankle booties that said, I might go on one of these boats, but someone else will be doing the work.

“Hanns,” she said out of the side of her mouth. “Lift the phone and angle it down.”

“My arms are getting tired.”

“One more. Go stand on that bench.”

“Piper, I’ve gotten no fewer than forty shots of you looking like a goddess. How many options do you need?”

She gave an exaggerated pout. “Please, Hannah. I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

“I’m not a seven-year-old,” Hannah grumbled, climbing onto the stone bench. “I’m getting sprinkles.”

“Ooh, that would be a cute picture of you!”

“Yes,” her sister replied drily. “I’m sure all nineteen of my followers would love it.”

“If you’d let me share just once—”

“No way. We talked about this. Tip your head back.” Piper complied, and her sister snapped the pic. “I like being private. No sharing.”

Piper swung herself off the rail, accepting her phone back from Hannah. “You’re just so cute, and everyone should know it.”

“Uh-uh. Too much pressure.”

“How?”

“You’re probably so used to it by now, you don’t stop to think of how . . . all these strangers and their responses to your posts are determining your enjoyment. Like, are you even experiencing the harbor right now, or are you trying to come up with a caption?”

“Oof. Below the belt.” She sniffed. “Is ‘Feeling a little nauti’ cute?”

“Yes.” Hannah snorted. “But that doesn’t mean you can tag me.”

“Fine.” Piper harrumphed and shoved her phone into her back pocket. “I’ll wait to post it so I won’t be checking for likes. I can’t get any reception, anyway. What should I look at with my eyeballs? What does reality have to offer me? Guide me, O wise one.”

With an indulgent grin, Hannah locked her arm through Piper’s. They each got an ice cream from a small shop and headed toward the rows of moored fishing vessels. Seagulls circled ominously overhead, but after a while, the sight of them and their shrill calls became part of the scenery, and Piper stopped worrying about being shat on. It was a clammy August afternoon, and tourists in sandals and bucket hats shuffled past signs advertising whale watching and boarded boats that bobbed in the water. Others stood in circles on the edges of the docks dropping what looked like steel buckets into the blue.

Piper noticed up ahead the white building proclaiming itself the maritime museum and recalled what Brendan had said about Henry Cross’s memorial. “Hey. Um . . . not to spring this on you, but apparently there’s a memorial for our father up here. Do you want to go look?”

Hannah considered. “That’s going to be weird.”

“So weird,” Piper agreed.

“It would be weirder for his daughters not to visit, though.” She chewed her lip. “Let’s do it. If we wait, we’ll keep finding reasons to put it off.”

“Would we?” Not for the first time today, it occurred to Piper how little they’d spoken about the weird elephant in the room. Also known as the blurry start of their lives. “Finding out about Henry is something you’d want to avoid?”

“Isn’t it?” They traded a glance. “Maybe following Mom’s lead on this is just natural.”

“Yeah.” Only it didn’t feel natural. It kind of felt like a chunk was missing from her memory. Or like there was a loose string in a sweater that she couldn’t ignore. Or like perhaps Brendan’s judgment had gotten to her in the supermarket. Her mother and grandparents had kept important details about Henry from her, but she could have found out about him on her own, right? Maybe this was her chance. “I think I want to go.”

“Okay.” Her sister studied her. “Let’s do it.”

Piper and Hannah continued along the harbor, scanning for the memorial. They returned the wave of an elderly man who sat on the museum lawn reading the paper. Shortly after, they spotted a brass statue outlined by the sea. Their steps slowed a little, but they kept going until they stopped in front of it. Gulls screeched around them, boats hummed in the distance, and life continued as usual while they stood in front of an artist’s rendering of their long-lost father.