Dirty Summer 1

Prologue

This was the last place she should be. The absolute last place. She woke up this morning in hot and dusty Dallas, and now she was standing outside of the Dock House while boats rocked in their slips.

Her heel made a hollow sound as it hit the parking lot pavement. She slammed the car door behind her and inhaled, taking in this place and all the memories they had made.

The wind whipped through her hair. She hesitated. This was all wrong. She shouldn’t be here, but she had to know. She had to see him again.

She pushed open the door, her heart in her throat, her palms dewy with perspiration, her breath fevered.

Was any of it real, or was it all just a flash of summer heat?

One

Blair

“You have got to be kidding me. This is it? This?” Blair glared at the mound of land sprawling in front of them. From the small peak at the top of the bridge, the island didn’t look like much.

Maggie grinned. “Yes. This is it.”

“An entire summer here?” Blair maneuvered the car onto the thin strip of island road. “There’s nothing here.”

“That’s the point. Remember? We’re trying out simplicity.”

Blair knew they had agreed to spend one last summer together before they started work in the fall, but Harkers Island seemed different in her imagination from reality.

“Oh my God. Is that the post office? It looks like a mall kiosk.” Blair slowed the car in front of a tiny brick building. The American flag flying out front was bigger than the only window.

Maggie leaned against her door, her nose almost touching the glass. “It’s quaint. It’s exactly what we wanted. Since we graduated last month, we’ve been rushed with interviews and packing. We need this.”

As the car meandered farther into the depths of the island, Blair pointed across the street. “Could that be the grocery store? Is says supermarket and it’s smaller than most convenient stores. Where is the gym? What about a coffee shop?” She didn’t like quaint and she didn’t like remote. Why in the hell did she let Maggie talk her into this?

Maggie sighed, adjusting her sunglasses. The glistening light off the water was blinding. “We don’t need coffee shops and we can run every day and do yoga at home. We’re going to make this fun. It doesn’t matter how big the grocery store is. We need this break before we start working. You’ll be in Dallas at the TV station. I’ll be in Charleston at my PR job. I know we think we’ll see each other, but it’s never going to be the same again. This is our last summer together.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic. It’s not going to be the last summer,” Blair huffed. She turned her blond head in Maggie’s direction. “I can’t believe you talked me into this. We could be cruising the Caribbean, sipping wine in France, or partying in South Beach. Instead, we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere.” She looked down at the phone in the console. “Will we even get cell service out here?” What if she couldn’t text or get Snapchat?

Maggie laughed. “We didn’t time travel.”

They might as well have. Blair gripped the steering wheel and stared out the windshield, searching for civilization. White clapboard houses aged by salt winds dotted the sides of the roads. It was starting to feel more like a nightmare and less like a tranquil vacation spot. Wasn’t there a horror movie that started out like this?

“Ok, so where is this place?” Blair couldn’t imagine there was much more road ahead of them. The island wasn’t more than two miles wide and five miles long. They had been creeping along at thirty-five for a while now.

“When I talked to Mrs. Buttons this morning, she said it was near the end of the island on the right. White with a wraparound porch, swing, and marigolds in the flower boxes.”

“See? No GPS here. You had to get caveman directions.” Blair reined in her instinct to groan.

“You can’t argue with free. We get the house in exchange for utilities and looking after the place. How bad can that be?” Maggie was way too chipper and excited.

Blair tapped on the brakes as she turned onto a gravel drive. “Ok maybe I’ll reconsider my earlier statements.” She looked up at the house towering over them.

Maggie beamed. “I knew you’d love it.”

If there was one thing Blair appreciated, it was style, and this waterfront house was oozing with it.

They hopped out of the car and climbed the front porch steps. Maggie rang the doorbell, and they waited for Gladys Buttons to open the door.

A short woman with bright white hair greeted them. “Hello, girls.” She smiled before ushering them over the threshold. “Hope you didn’t have any trouble with the directions.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t think we could ever get lost around here,” Blair replied as she rolled her eyes.

Maggie jabbed her in the ribs. “Blair just means it was an especially scenic drive for us.”

Mrs. Buttons stopped in the hallway and turned to face them. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Let me show you around, and then I’ll be on my way. I know you’re anxious to unpack and settle in. How long did it take you from Chapel Hill?”

After the elbow to the side, Blair decided to let Maggie do the chatting.

Her petite, brunette friend piped in. “I think a little over three hours. It wasn’t a bad drive.”

“I’m sure you’re thirsty. How about we have some sun tea?” Mrs. Buttons suggested.

“That sounds delicious.” Maggie was practically giggling. Blair thought the last time she’d seen her this giddy was when she got the call from the Charleston tourism group offering her a job.

The girls followed her into a white-tiled kitchen. Mrs. Buttons pulled out three glasses and a pitcher, and started pouring on the kitchen’s island, floating in the heart of the kitchen. Whoever designed this place had killer taste.

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nbsp; The ice crackled under the stream of tea. Blair took in the great room where they stood. The windows climbed from the floor to the ceiling, and on the opposite end of the room was a monstrous fireplace that stretched the entire length of the living room wall.

Blair took a sip. “This house is amazing.”