Once the staff had settled Carly, Brooklyn encouraged Bowie to go home and get some rest. They still had a construction project to complete, and Brooklyn still intended to open the inn, at least for the summer. After that, she had no idea what she would do and supposed her decisions would come down to whatever Carly left in her will. Brooklyn also sent Simone and Brystol home and told them to come back tomorrow with a few of Carly’s things to decorate the room with. She saw the pained look in her daughter’s eyes and knew she was going to have to break the news to her that her nonnie was going to heaven. Brystol was a smart girl, though, and had likely figured it out. Still, the words needed to be said so she could say goodbye; Brooklyn owed them that at least.
In the room, Brooklyn gazed out the window. Skagit Valley and Cape Harbor weren’t all that different. They both had beautiful landscapes, and tulip fields that stretched on for days, but where they differed was Cape Harbor had the ocean, and right now Brooklyn missed the comforting sound of the crashing waves and the smell of sea salt. She sat on the window ledge and pulled her knees up to her chest. She closed her eyes. She needed Austin now more than ever, to give her the answers.
“Is this your house?” Brooklyn asked as Austin pulled into the circular driveway of the inn. Brooklyn knew her parents had stayed here before, and she had seen the hotel from downtown, but being this close was awe inspiring. She was in love with it and hadn’t even seen the inside yet.
“Sort of.” He shut his truck off and made his way to the other side to open Brooklyn’s door, then held her hand as she climbed out. Once her feet were firmly on the ground, he shut the door and pushed her up against it, kissing her. They had only been hanging out for a week, but he had already kissed her the night of the bonfire. They both had a free period together—she had wanted to study, but Austin had other ideas. He had taken her down a ramp, toward the music rooms, and into a small alcove, where he kissed her for the first time. It wasn’t a peck or even two. The teens made out for an hour, groping and touching each other. Still, she was curious as to what it all meant. She wanted to be his girlfriend but had a feeling Austin wouldn’t appreciate the label. He hadn’t seemed like the type, and she feared he had other girls waiting in the wings. Aside from Monroe and Mila, the other girls in the school gave her the cold shoulder, and she had a feeling that was because of Austin. She saw the way they stared at him, with stars in their eyes. Much like she had.
When he pulled away, his eyes were hooded, and his bottom lip was between his teeth. Seeing him like this, and knowing she was the cause of his reaction, excited her. She wanted him, and she knew he wanted her. She could feel how much when he pressed against her. He took her hand in his and led her not into the hotel but to the house attached to the side. Compared to the hotel, the house was small. As soon as she stepped inside, though, it was anything but. The cathedral ceiling made the living room look large, but it was the back wall of the house, where the kitchen was, that really took Brooklyn’s breath away.
“Your mom must love to cook,” she said, standing at the sink. Through the window, she could see boats coming in and out of port with sails of all different colors. Austin stood behind her with his hands on her hips.
“Do you see the one with the pink sail? That’s my dad’s boat. He’s done fishing for the day and will sail down to the next port and sell to the market.”
“He doesn’t sell locally?”
“Sometimes—it depends on what he caught and who is looking for what. There’s a system out on the sea.”
“Why’s his sail pink?”
“So my mom can always find him.” Brooklyn turned to face him. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Come on—I want you to meet my mom. She’s going to love you.”
Again, he took her hand and led her through the main floor of the house, through a wooden door, and down a dark hallway. “It’s an old passageway.”
“Why aren’t there any lights?”
“There’s no electricity in here, and my dad doesn’t want to use those oil lamps because he’s afraid they’ll cause a fire.”
“Does your mom use this?”
“No, not usually. Normally, she walks out the front door and into the main door of the inn.”