Page 16 of Summer Romance
“I don’t understand,” says Frannie.
“She said they’re going to Florida on Monday,” explains Iris.
“Yes, but why?”
“We’ve talked about this,” says Mr. Hogan. “We think we may have been in a rut. And that trip to the Keys madeus feel young again. We found a little house right on the water. So we’re moving to Florida. You all are welcome to visit whenever you like, you included,” he says, with a wink to my kids.
“No one moves to Florida in the summer,” says Ethan.
“We love it there,” says Mrs. Hogan.
“And we’re going to get a boat and learn to fish,” says Mr. Hogan. “So we’re not going to run out of things to do.”
Frannie places her napkin on the table. “Just wait a second. I don’t understand. Are you selling the house? Are you never coming back here? What about the inn? You need to be here for the summer rush at the inn. And what about Theo?”
Mr. Hogan looks to his wife for permission to go on. “Well, that’s the other thing. We’re retiring. Harold Webster is stepping into the role of general manager at the inn.”
“And of course we’ll be up to see Theo,” Mrs. Hogan adds.
“Harold Webster is a beach attendant. He stacks chairs,” says Frannie. Her voice is measured, like she’s using all of her energy to restrain herself.
“Yes,” Mr. Hogan agrees. “He was a very competent beach attendant. And now he’s general manager. And you and Marco are around—you can help fight fires.”
“Marco and I are running the diner. Seven days a week. And we have a baby, if you haven’t noticed.” Her voice breaks, and I think she’s going to cry.
“Honey, this is doable. The inn practically runs itself,” says Mrs. Hogan.
Greer’s looking at me like she wants to run. This is a tense family moment and the chance of tears seems pretty high. We shouldn’t be here for this.
Ethan refills Frannie’s wineglass. “This is a lot,” he says. “I’ll keep doing the legal stuff, but to be clear, I’m not going to be able to be physically here to help.”
“We know, Scooter. You’ve told us a thousand times. You’re not going to help,” Frannie says, and takes a too-big sip of wine and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “What about the house? Are you selling the house?”
Mr. Hogan says, “We’re giving Scooter the house.”
“What?” Ethan pushes himself back from the table.
“And we’re giving Frannie the diner,” Mr. Hogan says. “We’ve had them appraised, and they’re roughly the same value. Your mother and I are keeping the inn, of course, and we’ll keep an eye on Harold from Florida.”
“Wait. What am I going to do with this house?” Ethan asks. “I’m not moving back here.” It comes out as more of a plea than a statement, as if the next thing out of his mouth will be,You can’t make me.
“Sell it. Get married and fill it with kids. Do whatever you want. It’s yours,” says Mr. Hogan.
“I don’t think Scooter’s in any hurry to get married, dear,” Mrs. Hogan says.
Frannie is staring at her plate. Marco puts his arm around her. When she looks up, there are tears in her eyes. “It’s very generous, thank you. I’m just not ready to lose you.” It was the last thing I said to my mom, selfishly. As if her suffering and imminent dying were somehow about meand how unready I was. But it was true: I have never been less ready for anything in my life. I wrap my arms around Cliffy.
“Jesus, Frannie, they’re not dying,” Ethan says. “They’re retiring and moving to Florida. It’s kind of what people do.”
“Then you should sell the inn,” Frannie says. “Take the Beekman offer. It’s just too much to manage without you.”
“Why aren’t you getting married?” Cliffy asks.
“Cliffy.” Greer heaves a sigh. “Personal boundaries?”
Ethan looks around the table and gives Cliffy a sideways smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Apparently, I’m unreliable. Just ask anyone in Beechwood.”
9
