Page 6 of The Summer that Changed Everything
“I’m assuming the first of the month. That would make the most sense for rental purposes.”
The Smoot property was a small bungalow set off by itself,just down from his place. “Then I guess we’ll soon find out,” he said.
When Ford reached his family’s summer house, only half a mile or so from where he’d run into Chet, he didn’t stop and go inside as he would’ve done had he not learned that Lucy Sinclair was coming to town. Curiosity compelled him to continue walking and, when an inlet cut off the beach, take a small trail through the scrub grass to the Smoot cottage.
Although it was much smaller and didn’t have a view of the ocean like Coastal Comfort—the name his mother had given their house—the Smoot cottage offered privacy. He could see why Lucy might want to stay there as opposed to somewhere in town. It was out of the way of the locals, and most of the tourists wouldn’t even know about it, let alone wander this far from the public beach and the quaint restaurants and shops they frequented.
The trailer park she’d once called home was off the beaten path, too, he remembered, except it was on the other side of town. He could understand why she might not want to be close to that, either. He could only imagine the terrible memories seeing it would bring back. He’d never forget the day the police showed up to search her trailer. Ford had taken Lucy out several times by then—they’d actually become a couple—and she’d texted him immediately, terrified and confused.
She’d needed a friend. But he’d put her off, told her he couldn’t come over.
Looking back, he cringed at his response, especially because he’d never followed up like he’d promised. Instead, he’d distanced himself the way his parents demanded. They’d insisted she was trash, bad news, not worth his time. They’d said she had to have realized her father was a violent man who’d donesomething unforgivable, and not coming forward was just as bad as participating in those crimes herself.
He’d known they were stretching forsomethingto hold against her. Judging by the stricken look on Lucy’s face during the trial, which was held in Montross only twenty-five minutes away, she’d had no clue.
Still, he’d allowed his parents to persuade him, and the fact that everyone else turned on her, too, convinced him they must be right. Kids were heavily influenced by their peers; he’d been afraid standing by her would make him a pariah. It wasn’t as if he’d been with her for months or years. If he’d known her better, maybe he would’ve reacted differently.
At least, that was what he’d told himself since. But he knew in his heart that what he’d done had hurt her—so much that she had to hate him.
He’dhate him if he were her...
The place looked dark and closed up, and the garden was overrun with weeds. It’d obviously been untended for a while. He remembered seeing the little free library old lady Smoot had put up next to her mailbox when he was just a kid and wondered if she’d ever be able to come home.
He walked around front. Sure enough, there was no car parked in the drive. But according to what Chet had told him, there soon would be. What did Lucy hope to accomplish here?
There had to besomemotivation because, for her, returning to North Hampton Beach would be like bleeding in shark-infested waters.
He was just pivoting to head back when a car turned in. He’d been caught nosing around, which felt awkward, but it would only make matters worse if he skulked off as if he’d been doing something wrong. It was much smarter to wait and say hello to whoever was behind the wheel. At least then he could play off his visit.
Dahlia, Sharon Smoot’s niece, climbed out as soon as the engine went off. With her distinctive red hair and myriad freckles covering her face and arms, he recognized her immediately, despite the years that’d passed since he’d last seen her.
“Well, if it isn’t Ford Wagner, the boy everyone wanted to be—or be with!” she said, grinning from ear to ear.
“What are you up to these days?” he asked.
“Causing trouble, as usual.” She opened the back door of her SUV and hauled out a laundry basket full of sheets and towels. “What about you?”
“Just working for a living.”
“Well, what you consider a living and what I consider a living are probably two different things,” she said with a cackle.
“It’s good to see you again.” He walked over to carry the basket for her. “How’s your aunt?”
“Old, which makes it hard for her to mend. She’s been in a convalescent home in Richmond for months.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Looking confused, she relinquished the basket into his hands. “So... you walked over to visit my aunt? I didn’t realize you knew her that well.”
“I don’t. I just got into town and was on the beach when I ran into Chet, who told me you rented this place to Lucy Sinclair—who’s actually Lucy McBride. That true?”
With a grimace, she grabbed her purse from the front seat and slammed the door. “Don’t tell me you’re going to start in on me, too. I’ve taken so much grief over that. Everyone who comes to the bar where I work bitches at me for it. But I didn’t know Lucy Sinclair was Lucy McBride until I’d already admitted the cottage was still available. It took me a few moments to realize there was something familiar about her and ask if it was her.”
“And she admitted it was?”
“Seemed a little hesitant, which made me feel bad. She was obviously worried I wouldn’t rent to her if she told me the truth. And yet she was always nice to me when she lived here. So I’mnot going to discriminate. Besides, my aunt needs the income to offset some of her medical bills and, as far as I’m concerned, Lucy hasn’t done anything wrong.”
He arched one eyebrow. “The Clark family would disagree with you.”
