Maine Squeeze (26 page)

“Hey, I didn't vanish. You did!” Evan said.

I'd heard of revisionist history, but this was ridiculous. “I vanished? Since when?”

“You said you were coming to visit, but you didn't,” Evan said.

“Are you serious? I never visited because you never told me when, or how. You quit E-mailing. Obviously because you had a girlfriend.”

There was a long pause. Evan focused on finishing making the cappuccino, and I was about to go back over to pick up my tray—I'd been in here way too long already—when Evan put his hand on my arm. “Look, Colleen. I only started seeing her—Dahlia—in May.”

Dahlia? What kind of name was Dahlia?
I thought. (Okay, so it's a very nice name actually, I was just feeling a little jealous at the time, especially since she was as pretty as her name.) “And then you left town in June, to come here? Hm. Sounds familiar.”

“Colleen, come on. We went out a few weeks—she wanted to see the island,” Evan said. “It's not
serious
. It's not like you—”

“No, of course not,” I said. “Nothing's ever serious with you.”

“What did you expect? Did you think I was going to move to the island so we could be together?”

“No. Of course not. I know. I know you had to go home. But … look, never mind.” It was already the end of July. We'd all be leaving in a month, or less than that. “It's just—” Part of me wished we could go outside and keep talking until we got this straightened out for good. And part of me wished we could go outside so that I could push him into the harbor again. I looked down at his stupid new pair of Birks. When had he gotten them? I couldn't risk his losing those sandals again. It wasn't about the money, although I definitely didn't want to shell out any more where Evan was concerned. But I couldn't take the risk of being in contact with Evan like that again.

“I don't really get where you're coming from. We're not together,” Evan said. “Do you want to be? Because you've been dating someone else all summer—hey, all year, even—”

“Yeah, well. Ben and I aren't together anymore. Thanks to you,” I said.

“Oh, no. No way.” Evan shook his head. “I'm not taking the blame. Coll, I'm not responsible for that.”

“Yeah, you are. Because you came back here,” I said.

“Well, I didn't come back here for you,” Evan said.

Ugh. Did he have to be so brutal? I was going to say “brutally honest,” but I wasn't sure he
was
being honest. If he didn't come back here for me, then why was he here?

I was starting to wonder why
I
was here, as I picked up the tray of salads and went out into the dining room, plastering a phony smile on my face. Maybe I could meet my parents in Italy. Why not?

Because you invited your friends to live with you, and you can't just bail on them, even though one of them isn't talking to you right now. And you can't just bail on Trudy, the way Blair did, because you're not like her. And you can't just bail on Betty, because she needs you
.

Why was my life being dictated by older women with old-fashioned-sounding names?

In the morning I got up early and rode my bike to the Landing. Haley hadn't been staying at the house since last week, since our fight. Having both her and Blair leave at the same time had been strange. I didn't like the fact that it had been nearly a week and we still weren't talking. I was determined to make things up to her. Whatever she needed me to say, I'd say it, but I wasn't ending the summer like this.

As soon as I got to the Landing, though, I felt almost panicky. Why was I even down here? Ben hated me. Haley wasn't talking to me. I couldn't have felt
less
welcome.

There was Haley's old green pickup truck. I rode over to it and leaned my bike against the truck before I walked up to the window.

“Haley. Where've you been?” I asked.

She was in the middle of making a pot of coffee, and she didn't answer me right away. “I've been here,” she said when she finally turned around. “Why—were you here earlier?”

“No. I mean … I haven't seen you around the house for a few days,” I said.
Obviously
.

“Yeah. Well.” She just kept going about her business while I stood there, stupidly, stubbornly, waiting for her to talk to me. If she could be stubborn, so could I. She should know that by now. She wasn't going to get off the hook by just making herself busy behind the counter. I'd stand here and repeatedly order stuff if I had to.

Which I would probably have to, because I could see people heading off the ferry toward the window for their morning cup of coffee. Come to think of it, I was feeling pretty hungry after my bike ride. Maybe I'd pick up some breakfast pastries for me and Sam, drop off a couple of muffins with Betty.

“So, is there anything I can do to fix things?” I asked. “I mean, you have to tell me what I did wrong. Because I can't apologize if I don't know. Is it the Ben thing, still? Because I apologize if I acted badly. But you said a lot of other things that night, too.”

“It's not that,” she said.

“Then what?” I asked. “You can't be mad at me for the Blair thing.”

“It's nothing,” she said.

“Really,” I said.

“I just wanted to spend some time with my mother the past few days. She hasn't been feeling well, so …”

“Really. I'm sorry to hear that. I hope she feels better soon.” Now I knew she was lying. I mean, you might think that was cold of me, that I should have asked how her mother was feeling—and it wasn't that I didn't care. But I could tell she was making the whole thing up, because I'd seen her mother at the store yesterday when I went by with Erica to rent a video. And she was completely fine. She didn't even complain about a sniffle or a headache.

Haley was the one who hadn't been feeling well. About me, her former best friend. Man, could she hold a grudge. So I'd made a mistake. How long was she going to hold it against me?

I wanted to tell her that the house wasn't the same without her, that she should come home and celebrate the fact that Blair was gone, that it was just me, her, and Sam. But she'd been gone as long as Blair had. The house felt empty with just me and Sam rattling around inside.

For the benefit of sleepy customers, I stepped aside and waited a few minutes, alternately watching Haley pour coffee for them, and staring out at the ocean.

“So. Will you be at the house later?” I asked once she got through the line.

Haley shrugged. “I don't know.”

“Don't you need some clothes or something? You practically moved all your stuff in there,” I said.

“Yeah, well, maybe I'll see you later, maybe I won't,” she said. “Next!” she called over my shoulder to another customer.

So much for conversation. I walked over to the dock and stared out at the ferry, rocking gently on the waves. Moby looked sort of sad today. Or maybe it was me.

I loved the sound of the ropes and bells clinking and knocking against the boat as it floated, nestled against the dock. I wondered if Ben was working this morning. I took a few steps closer to the ferry, then stopped. What would I say to him if I saw him? Hello? How are you? That would sound stupid. But I did want to know how he was doing. I missed him. We'd spent all our time together for the past eight months or so. Now there was this hole. Ben wasn't there to ask me how I felt, or to tell me I looked great, or to listen to me complain or worry about Haley and how she was acting. I needed Ben to confide in, but I was completely on my own in this. It had been a while since I was on my own, I realized. And I didn't mind
being
alone … but I didn't like
feeling
alone. Especially now that Haley wasn't speaking to me, too.

When I heard a male voice saying “Hi” behind me, I nearly jumped. I turned around and saw Troy Hamilton standing there.

“Oh, hey,” I said.

“Hi. Again.” He smiled sort of cutely.

“How are you?” I asked. (See, I knew it would sound stupid—whether I said it to Ben or to someone else.) If there were a way I could have instantly summoned Samantha down to the Landing, I would have.

“Good.” He nodded. “You're Colleen, right?”

I nodded.

“So, sorry about that crazy stuff with my grandmother. The theft thing. That was a huge mistake,” he said.

“Yeah, it was. But it's okay now,” I assured him. “Don't worry about it.”

“Okay, but I'm sorry. So, I heard you live here year-round?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“What about your friend—you know, not the rude one. The, um …?”

“Beautiful one?” I suggested.

His ears turned slightly red. “Was her name Samantha?”

I nodded.

“Does she live here year-round, too?” Troy asked.

“No, she only comes for the summers. She lives in Richmond the rest of the year.”

“Richmond, Maine?”

“Is there one?” I laughed. “I have no idea. But she lives in Virginia. She's going to college at UVA.”

“Oh, yeah? Cool. I'm going to UNC. I guess it's not all that close, but it's in the same time zone anyway.”

This definitely sounded promising. He was interested in Sam, even if he was trying to be casual about it. There had to be some way I could get them together again without suggesting his family host another catered event or telling him to come into Bobb's. That would be tacky, and besides, he wouldn't really get to spend any time with her.

I knew what I'd do—I'd have the party this time. Not a loud beer bash, like last time. A dinner party—something simple we could do, like a barbecue. And I'd invite him, on Sam's behalf. Only … who else could I invite, so he wouldn't be the only guy there?

Not Evan.

Not Ben.

Definitely not Uncle Frank.

Maybe we ought to make it a huge, raging party, so that it wouldn't seem like such a formal setup. I could invite everyone from Bobb's, plus other island friends. A Sunday barbecue. I'd made a killing at work that week and could afford to be generous—we were hitting peak tourist weeks. And I'd make it such a big deal that Haley would have to be there, too. She wouldn't be able to say no or not show up. I'd have Sam invite her and stress that it was a group event. I'd be killing—or uniting—several birds with one stone. (Not that I'd decided on barbecued chicken yet.)

“So, you're here for a while yet?” I asked Troy.

“One more week,” he said.

“Cool. Well, how'd you like to come to a party?”

I chose the date off the top of my head—that Sunday night. I wrote down the house address and handed it to him. “Six o'clock. Be there, okay?”

When I walked back over past Haley's takeout window to get my bike, Haley called out, “Two guys weren't enough for one summer?”

“What?” I couldn't believe her. “No. He's not—Look, I'm trying to fix up … Oh, never mind.” I didn't want to bother saying it. What was the use explaining when she was so mad, so ready to see the worst in me?

Chapter 22

“So, how many people are coming?” Sam asked as she set out a column of plastic cups next to a stack of paper plates. We'd learned from our first party—well, Blair's first party—not to use the good stuff. One, it created a lot of dishes for us to wash; and two, we'd lost a glass or two that night—cheap ones, fortunately, that we had several others of. I didn't think my parents would miss a couple. At least, I hoped not.

“Well, besides the guest of honor—” I began.

“Troy, you mean?” Sam interrupted.

“Yes,” I said, smiling at her. “Besides him, probably about ten or fifteen people, some from work and some Haley and I know from school. You're not mad, are you? That I sort of set this up?”

“As long as there are a few more people than Troy here, it's not a setup, or at least it won't look like one,” Erica said.