Every day at the Limestone feels like casual Friday, so I opted to go a little dressier for book club. I’m wearing a pair of rust-colored corduroy pants with a white tank top and a denim jacket. For the first time in weeks, I used a blow-dryer and put on makeup. Also, I’m wearing dangly earrings, which is why Maisie thinks I look fancy. I rub my nose against hers. “Ich liebe dich.”
As I climb into the golf cart, I notice Mason approaching the house, carrying a brown glass beer growler.
“There’s a plate in the oven for you,” I say, immediately realizing how weird that sounds. How weird it is when I’ve never done that before. We’re not a family. I’m not his wife making sure he’s fed before I go off to book club. Especially when he clearly knows how to take care of himself. My face is on fire. My whole body is on fire. I wish I could fall into a hole and stay there forever.
“Thanks,” he says. “You, um—you look nice. Not that you don’t normally look nice, but you look … extra … nice.” He thrusts the growler at me. “This is for book club.”
His clumsy sweetness does nothing to cool the flames. This is terrible. “Thank you.”
“Have a good fun,” he says, and his jaw twitches when he realizes what he’s said. “I mean, have a good time.”
Biting back a smile, I press the gas pedal. As Maisie and I bump down the gravel path to the road, I steal a glance in the rearview mirror. Mason is standing in the same spot, watching us leave. Right before I look away, he face-palms himself.
CHAPTER 10
Samar
Arabic
“staying up late after the sun has gone down and having an enjoyable time with friends”
“I’m so glad you could make it.” Avery hugs me on the front porch of her cottage overlooking the lake, then takes the bottle of wine. As I follow her inside, Daniel whisks Maisie and Leo away to a sleepover at his parents’ place before Maisie has a chance to register the separation. She’s usually pretty chill about being away from me, but this is the first time she’s slept at a stranger’s house. Unless you count Brian.
“Everyone, this is Rachel, the new manager up at the brew hotel.” Avery pauses just inside the front door. The members of the book club are seated around the living room, their ages ranging from mid-thirties to somewhere near ninety. “Rachel, this is Rosemary, Gail, Virginia, Diane, Courtney, and Pat. Tori is our ninth, but she’s running late.”
Their responses are a mixed bag. A few say hello, a couple offer a little wave along with it. The Baby Boomers of the group glance at one another as if I’ve been a recent topic of conversation—and might be again. There’s some judging going on, but I get it. Kelleys Island is a tiny village and I’m the new girl.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” I say before following Avery to a table in front of the windows that’s spread with a variety of appetizers, including chicken wings, a Crock-Pot of cheese dip, a second Crock-Pot of meatballs, guacamole, and a foil tray of stuffed mushrooms.
“We haven’t had a new book club member in a couple of years,” she explains, plunking down the bottle of wine amid a selection of beers, other wines, and a pitcher of margaritas. Candles flicker on the mantel and tables around the room, and soft indie music plays in the background. There’s even a pink tinsel curtain hanging in the archway that’s so thick, it obscures the room on the other side. “Plus, everyone is curious about you, living out there with a hot single man.”
“You mean my boss? The one who pays me to work there?”
“That’s how it is?” She sags slightly. I could share that Mason is a human hedgehog who’s prickly on the surface with a soft underbelly, but then she might guess my feelings for him are in a weird place. And I don’t want the island thinking I got my job by sleeping with my boss. “We’re dying for fresh gossip around here, Rachel.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say, holding out the growler. “But Mason did contribute an exclusive sample of his first batch of beer.”
Avery’s eyes light up. “Oh, we’re definitely trying that.”
“This feels like a party.” I spoon a little cheese dip on a paper plate with some tortilla chips and remind myself not to eat dinner next time. “But I’ve never joined a book club and it’s been a very long time since I’ve been to a party, so I might be wrong on both counts.”
She laughs. “Well, the first thing you need to know about book club—”
“It’s never really about books,” Rosemary interrupts from her seat beside the table. She’s the one who looks like she might be in her nineties, with pure white hair that’s swirled around her head like cotton candy. “It’s an excuse for us to get away from our families for a night and kick up our heels.”
“We do talk about books, though,” Avery adds.
Virginia, the other elder stateswoman of the club, giggles. “Sometimes.”
“Come sit,” Rosemary says, patting the ottoman beside her chair.
I take a seat, and for the next ten minutes or so, we discuss the book, a popular romantic comedy that sat at the top of the New York Times bestseller list nearly all last year. Pat, one of the Boomers, is complaining that it was unrealistic right as Tori sweeps in the front door.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says. “There’s a group of wilderness weirdos camping up at the state park this week and they came into the store at the last minute while I was by myself. I can’t wait for the Bulgarians to get here.”
“The Bulgarians?” I ask.
“Most of the summer employees on the island are from other countries,” Avery explains. “Cedar Point started hiring foreign kids in the late nineties to work at the park and it eventually spread out to the islands. They come from all over the world, but we get a lot of Eastern Europeans, especially Bulgarians.”
“That’s really good to know,” I say. “At some point I’ll be hiring staff.”
“When are you planning to open?” Pat asks.
“Well, Mason’s goal was Fourth of July, but the cabins aren’t under roof yet, so we may have to open the taproom first and hope we won’t completely miss the summer season.”
“Ooh, speaking of which,” Rosemary says. “I’d like to try that beer.”
Avery pops the swing top on the growler. The bottle doesn’t hold enough for everyone to have a full glass, but it’s enough for a taste.
“Oh, I like this,” Diane says. “Is it a lager?”
“Yes,” I say. “It’s called Little Fish.”
“That’s adorable,” Tori says as the group sips and nods their approval. Even Pat, who doesn’t seem to like much of anything, says, “Gotta hand it to him. The kid knows how to make a good beer.”
I’m so excited for Mason that I want to text him with the rave reviews, but Avery hops up from her seat. “I’m sure you’re all wondering what I have planned for tonight, and it was tough following Rosemary’s boozy milkshakes last month, but if you’ll follow me…”
She strides across the living room and disappears through the tinsel curtain. The rest of us follow, and on the other side of the archway, we find her dining room transformed into a karaoke bar. There’s another tinsel curtain as the backdrop for a tiny stage, a microphone stand, and a karaoke machine. It’s not a cheap setup either.