New Point (6 page)

W
ork and avoiding a phone call to Dr. Wilson can only provide so many distractions to thinking about my date with Miles. By the time Thursday rolls around, I’m antsy. Will Miles bring Duke to camp again? I want to see him again before our date, see if I wasn’t dreaming him.

I wouldn’t allow myself to walk past his house for a closer investigation –that would have been stalker caliber– but my eyes did occasionally wander to his area of the beach when I sat on my deck, doing my nightly nature appreciation homework from Dr. Greene.

Now I’m on the back patio of the library, waiting for my campers to arrive. A collage project will take up the first half of our session, so I’ve laid out art supplies on two picnic tables.

“Miss Zoe, Miss Zoe!” I glance up just time to catch a running Duke, who flings himself at me. Laughing, I collect him into a hug. His small arms snap around my waist, clutching me tightly. I struggle not to close my eyes and soak up the feeling.

“Duke, honey, don’t overwhelm Miss Zoe.” Even though she reprimands him, harried affection rings in her tone.

He clings to my hip even though I release him. “Just Zoe,” I tell the dark-haired woman who’s watching me with a critical eye. It’s plain as the white dress I’m wearing that she’s related to Miles. Her dark brown hair has the same wave, and she has eyes that sparkle playfully. “You must be Duke’s mom?”

“Yes. Etta.” Her intense perusal melts away into a friendly grin, and she takes my hand in a hearty shake above her son’s head. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she says mysteriously. Before I can think to wonder if she means from Miles, her son pipes in.

“I told her this was the best summer camp ever! After baseball camp, I mean.”

I can’t smother my pleasure at his unfiltered honesty. “Baseball is very important,” I tell him seriously.

“I’m sorry we’re here a little early, but I’ve got an appointment that I can’t be late to. Normally Miles helps with Duke, but he’s taking stock today.” Then I realize she looks slightly frazzled, the top button of her shirtdress open.

Subtly I gesture to her and she lets out a gasp, rolling her eyes. “Rushed morning,” she explains. “Duke’s dad is in the military. Sometimes I need to juggle my schedule to make everything happen.” Her smile is a tired but happy one as she shakes her head.

“Do you manage a lot of properties?”

Etta’s brow furrows in confusion. “Oh! Your house. Where is my head today?” She shifts her oversized purse on her shoulder. “When Duke was younger I wanted to work but only doing something not too time consuming. There’s a few properties around town that needed management, mostly for the winter months. Now that Duke’s older, I can get back to my patients.”

It seems intrusive to ask about her work so I keep my response light. “It must be tough balancing your patients and being a mom while your husband is out of the country. You’re more than welcome to bring Duke as early as you need.” Duke has wandered away, inspecting the materials on the picnic tables.

“That would be a huge help, thank you.”

“No problem.”

I can’t help but feel comfortable around her warm personality. I want to ask her about Miles, but that would probably give my crush away. I bite that one back and try something else. “Is there something with jazz and your family?”

Etta throws back her head in a deep laugh, the first relaxed expression she’s shown since she arrived. “Most people don’t catch on so quickly. My mom loves it. Miles Davis and Etta James are obviously two of her favorites. My husband, Will, wanted to maintain the tradition and demanded we name any and all children in the same way. Duke Ellington was playing when I took the pregnancy test.”

She glances at her watch and tsks disapprovingly. “Have to run. It was wonderful to meet you, Zoe.” Etta kisses Duke and rushes out, promising to pick him up on time and not early.

I sit on the bench space next to Duke and while we wait for the rest of the campers to arrive, he tells me about his baseball camp.

Like I was instantly drawn to Miles, I feel a similar pull to Etta and Duke. She reminds me of friends from Chicago –funny, honest, loyal, and Duke’s sweetness takes me back to the person I was before my sense of normalcy was stolen.

A
t home that night, I have another check-in with Dr. Greene. He doesn’t waste time with formalities when my face appears on the television screen.

“Hi,” I squeak nervously, knowing what’s coming.

“Dr. Wilson tells me you haven’t set an appointment.” He’s not happy.

“Not yet. Things at work have been so busy and –” I don’t bother finishing with the excuse.

He sighs heavily, leaning back in his leather desk chair. “We cannot continue with these video sessions, Zoe. You need someone permanent and close.”

The lecture, though delivered kindly, forms a knot of guilt in my chest. I stare straight into his eyes when I respond. “I will call the good doctor tomorrow.”

“Maybe not tomorrow,” he says gently. “Wait until Monday.”

Right. Tomorrow’s the anniversary of my parent’s death.

“Is that your professional opinion?” I don’t ask it rudely, because I genuinely want to know, after all of his insistence, why he is giving me a day off. “I understand the importance of getting a regular therapist in New Point, and I think I’ll be all right to at least set up an appointment.”

Dr. Greene nods knowingly. “You’ve put a lot of pressure on yourself to heal, as you call it, as quickly as possible. Tomorrow give yourself permission to accept your feelings as they are. Take a day off from the healing process, if that’s what you want.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised you’re saying that. We’ve spent so much time putting together a recovery strategy and that attitude steers away from the rails pretty dramatically.”

Of course, Dr. Greene somehow finds the root of concern quickly. “You’ve spent every anniversary of your parent’s death with Blake. Will he be in New Point tomorrow?”

My nose wrinkles as I frown. “No, this year we’re going to be apart for the anniversary. Blake’s got some important all day meeting at work that goes into the evening. It wouldn’t make sense for him to come out to here after a late dinner.” Actually, I was still smarting over the fact that my brother wasn’t planning on being with me on the anniversary.

“On top of the annual stress, there are several other issues weighing on your mind. I’m not suggesting you stray from the strategies we’ve practiced. I’m simply saying you should go easy on yourself tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I draw the word out, not entirely sure what he means. Just a few days ago I’d told him how much better I was feeling. Sure, Blake wasn’t going to be here on the anniversary, but that won’t send me into a tailspin. I’m slightly worried about my own reaction to the date but more so upset about not being with my brother physically. But after everything he’s done for me, I can hardly to criticize my brother. “Blake and I have plans to video chat,” I explain.

“Good. Tell me about work.” And with that the subject shifts, and I effectively push away the tiny nagging fear that an epic meltdown waits for me beyond tomorrow’s sunrise.

D
r. Greene was right.

Despite the stream of sunlight spilling across the duvet and pulling me out of sleep, I wake up swallowed by a blue mood. I don’t know what made me think today would be any different than the last fifteen years. The healing powers of New Point apparently don’t fill the hollowed out place in my heart.

Work didn’t do much of anything to improve my disposition. I was alone in the library for most of the day. Outside the temperature hovered in the low seventies, perfect weather to keep people outside and away from the rows of well-loved books. Mostly I spent the day alone, with plenty of time to consider and question the choices I’ve made.

What was I thinking shuffling my entire life seventy miles away from Blake? He’s all the family I have left, except for his father Stewart, who I’ve always considered an uncle. After the drunk driver stole our mother and my father, Blake became my guardian and essentially both parents rolled into one. He had just graduated college at the time of their death and was on the precipice of a once-in-a-lifetime career opportunity. There were tough choices to make about our future, and Stewart provided invaluable guidance to Blake, a young man with new, massive responsibilities. My brother became my superhero.

But when I called him a few minutes ago for the video chat he promised, Blake answered the phone distractedly, leaving me hurt and disappointed. Every year, no matter what business obligations my brother had, he would find uninterrupted time to spend with me on this day. Deep down I’m worried that my decision to come to New Point will push us apart. I can’t help but wonder if my brother is angry with me for moving here against his wishes and doesn’t want to spend the anniversary of our mother’s death together. Then again, my brother has never done a spiteful thing in his life.

Ever since I turned twenty-one, Blake would take me to a bar to commemorate my parents’ lives by toasting their name several times over. Tonight, I decide, will be no different.

According to Sharon, Blue in Green is the most popular bar in New Point for tourists and locals alike. The owner remodeled a half burned down bar and built a massive patio for summer patrons.

I spot the restaurant easily from where I walk along the shore, a crowd of energetic people milling about the outdoor space. As beautiful a night as it is, I’d rather be inside where it will likely be more secluded.

The moment I step inside the Blue in Green, I feel comfortable. There’s nothing pretentious about this place. Twinkling lights are strung from the ceiling above a wall of empty glass bottles. Navy stools stand underneath the long concrete bar top. The front of the bar has oversized garage doors, which are open to let in the mild temperature and setting sun. I make my way to the corner of the bar and slide onto one of the seats.

I resist the urge to check my phone and see if Blake has called. Like I told him so many times before, I’m an adult now, and he doesn’t need to offer the emotional support like he did when he was my guardian.

A snort escapes my nose. Who am I kidding? I need him today.

“What can I get you, little lady?”

My eyes fly up to where the sound came from as a grinning bartender watches me with interest.

More new girl stuff,
I think glumly, not pleased with being the fodder to the gossip mill. I know that I can’t hide forever, and it’s better to get the intrigue over with sooner than later.

“Tequila on the rocks.” The smile I give him falls flat.

“Preference on your poison?”

“Grey Goose if you have it, please.”

While he makes the drink I pass over my credit card to open a tab.

“You’re our newbie that lives next to the boss man, huh?” he asks as he slides my drink over.

I nod as I thank him. “Zoe. Who’s the boss man?”

If possible, the grin on his cheeks grows wider.
What’s the big deal?

“Miles mentioned he had a new neighbor. He owns this place.”

My eyes grow wide. Sexy bartender is actually sexy bar owner? Not that it matters, but I admit I’m a little surprised because he mentioned his job so cavalierly. Humility only makes him more appealing.

“Right next door,” I acknowledge as casually as possible. Miles’ employee doesn’t need to know I’m harboring a steady crush on his boss.

“Well, I’m Jake. You let me know when you need another one of those. Welcome to New Point.” With a friendly wink, he moseys back down the bar toward someone else.

I covertly sweep the bar, but there is no sign of Miles. If he appears, I’ll make a hasty exit. No need to share my melancholy with him the night before our first date.

Loneliness darkens my temperament. I should be with Blake tonight, but he’s apparently too busy with business to share his attention with me. My hand curls around the cold glass, swirling the ice cubes as I study the clear liquid. One thing Blake drilled into my impressionable mind was that hangovers from pricier tequila were way better than ones from cheap tequila.

I’m lifting the tumbler to my lips when a familiar scent surrounds me. An arm curls around my back, presenting a white-topped cupcake with a small, candied carrot in the center in front of me. I release my drink as my shoulders sag in relief.