Carly’s tasked Brooklyn and Bowie with restoring the Inn to its former grandeur…Bowie’s divorce from Rachel will be finalised in ninety days.
Moving from a metropolis to a small town had a way of changing your path as well as your life. The hopes and dreams she had when she arrived in Cape Harbor were quickly set aside. Her new friends weren’t dreamers. Not in the sense that she was.
Brooklyn had declared she would leave after she graduated high school. She had wanted to move back to Seattle with her parents and attend the University of Washington but Austin derailed her plans. When Brooklyn would bring up the career path she wanted to follow, Austin would always tell her there would be time for her to do her thing once his business took off. There would always be time.
He’d promised her they would move once his business took off. The business had thrived, and yet the move was postponed for one reason or the other until both Austin and Brooklyn had enough. The problem was that it didn’t matter to Austin if it was five minutes, six hours, forty days, or three years. It simply meant not right now.
Austin was, by all accounts, sainted, but to Bowie he was flawed, his best friend had been a spoilt, self-centered a*shole. Still, he’d loved Austin he just wasn’t immune to his faults.
From the moment Brooklyn had met Austin, she’d been smitten, she’d seen her soul mate and knew that he was her future. Other girls thought the same, some hadn’t cared that he had a girlfriend and had tried their best to grab his attention. At times, it worked. At times, Austin paid far too much attention to someone who wasn’t Brooklyn. She later realises that for years she allowed him to push his identity on her.
She missed Austin, she missed his laugh. She didn’t miss his attitude about their future, his lack of remorse when she saw him flirting with other girls, and the way he spoke to her the night he died. When he told her that he didn’t love her.
“You probably wonder why I stay with him or why I let him act this way. Sometimes I ask myself the same questions. I’m in love with that stupid boy in there, and he has no idea how much. Sometimes, I feel like he tells me he loves me because it’s the safest thing to say. I just want him to see me.” But Bowie sees her.
Before his death, Austin confided about his relationship with Brooklyn to his mother. He had wondered if Bowie was the better man for Brooklyn, admitting that Bowie likely loved Brooklyn more than him.
The night Austin recklessly set sail and vanished, he set her free. Austin was dead. Her parents had moved back to Seattle a year after she graduated high school. There was no longer a reason to remain. She severed ties and left. Things might’ve been different had she rung, written or told him she was leaving. She’d chosen to leave, because she had known any relationship she and Bowie had, was over, and seeing him every day would’ve destroyed her. Leaving had been her only option and she’d vowed to never return. Everyone heals differently. There’s no timeline or handbook for mourning. We all do whatever’s necessary to get us through the day.
After his death, she was thankful that Carly had tracked her down. She had found Brooklyn at her parents’ house weeks after his funeral. She was the only one to seek her out, to come looking for her. It was only Carly who came. No one else. She’d realised after leaving that she was pregnant.
As soon as she’d found out she was going to be a mother, her dreams of being a nurse had been set aside, and she’d started doing what she knew how to do best, which had turned into painting the interior of homes after she’d had Brystol. Bowie had taught her how to use a paintbrush, and she had always found the job therapeutic, working with a contractor for about three years, remodelling had become her therapy. She took home-improvement classes until she’d set out on her own.
Each year Austin’s friends gather on the beach . . . to celebrate his life. Tonight marks the fifteenth anniversary. Sometimes all their friends returned to pay homage, other times, it was only Monroe, Graham, Grady, and Bowie. This year, though, it was everyone. Truthfully, Bowie wanted this gathering to stop. The reminiscing was painful. Bowie wanted one year where they, as a group, didn’t sit around and talk about Austin. Even their high school reunions, which, oddly enough, happened every summer as well, were geared toward remembering Austin.
“Why would they do this? Sit on my beach where I can see them?”
“I think it’s because this was where we always hung out with Austin. This was our place, our beach. This was our home away from home. You made us all feel like we were your children. I don’t think they’re doing it to hurt you; more so, they’re probably trying to show you they still care and trying to hang on to a little bit of the lives they had back then”.
Brooklyn couldn’t be certain of this, especially since no one had come around to check on Austin’s mum. If they had put in as much effort to remembering Carly as they had her son, then maybe she wouldn’t have turned into a recluse or closed the doors on the inn. Brooklyn’s efforts weren’t much better, but at least she spoke with Carly.
Even though Brooklyn had left Cape Harbour, she’d had the presence of mind to ensure Carly was an integral part of Brystol’s life. Anyone could see the love and admiration they shared for one other. She’d figured out after her encounter with Monroe at the store that no one had known that she (Brooklyn) had a daughter.
The miniature version of Brooklyn was standing there talking to Simone as if they’d known each other for longer than a day or two. The young woman was a few feet away, smiling. She had the same smile as . . . her mother.
“Is the black dog yours, sir?”
If this girl was comfortable here, did that mean she was Austin’s? There was no way Carly Woods would hide her son’s daughter from his friends.
“He’s very nice. I asked my nonnie if he could stay in the house with me
while you worked.”
“Nonnie?”
“My grandma. She owns the inn.”
Austin had a child, and no one knew. Not one of his friends had been invited to be a part of her life. Austin’s friends would’ve made sure the girl was cherished, but instead, no one had said anything.
Carly had been living the life of a recluse, she’d never thought to ask her daughter if her vivacious grandmother had turned into an eccentric homebody. Only, Brystol wouldn’t have known the difference, as back in the day, Carly Woods was a sight to behold. A standout beauty and the life of the party.
Bowie hadn’t been the only one to disappear from Carly’s life after Austin’s death, everyone did. Death has a way of both tearing people apart and bringing them together. Carly and her son’s friends have maintained a distance and he surmises that all that mattered was that she was loved. It didn’t matter if people showed her then or now, as long as she knew.
Brooklyn wanted to shake sense into each one of Austin’s friends. Everyone’s honorary mother, she had opened her door, her life, and her heart to them, and they had all abandoned her. Brooklyn wasn’t much better, but at least she had given her Brystol.
After he’d left Carly’s, he’d searched for Brooklyn on the internet. He’d only had to type her name and the first letter of her last name before her website and hundreds of links and images popped up. She wasn’t just someone who painted interiors but one of the most sought-after decorators and renovators in the country. Her client list was a who’s whom of celebrities. Anyone from actors to singers to professional athletes. Not to mention clients who paid premium to have Brooklyn transform their visions into their dream homes. tHer job afforded her many luxuries, except roots. She travelled thousands of miles, to and fro across the country, leaving an impression everywhere she went. She didn’t rent a home, let alone own one.
Brooklyn had made a name for herself.
“She’s beautiful.”
“I’ve asked her to stay.”
“Why?”
“She needs to put down roots, and this is her home.”
Carly has stage IV breast cancer and has refused treatment. Going through her papers, Carly had a DNA test done and Bowie is Brystol’s biological father.
Many years ago, Carly had suspected Brystol might not be Austin’s, instead of saying something to Brooklyn she’d secretly had a DNA test performed on her at three. The test proved that Austin was not the father. She’d kept the results to herself and continued acting as if Austin were Brystol’s father. That damage would now have to be repaired by Brooklyn and Bowie.
Brooklyn had never allowed herself to explore that line of thinking.
Regret lived inside of Brooklyn. Guilt over leaving after Austin’s funeral. The remorse she felt for staying away. Shame for her actions in general. Years of therapy hadn’t been able to cure her; of course it may have helped had she stuck it out with one therapist, but her job wouldn’t allow for that. She chose to live out of hotels because they were easy, no commitment, and her permanent residence was a post office box in Jacksonville, Florida. Deep down, she knew Brystol wanted friends—she wanted to feel like a normal teenager—and giving her daughter a stable homelife would be the right thing to do.
Carly wants them to stay.
“Make a life here. Give Brystol a home. Let her grow up with her father’s friends. With me.”
“Why don’t they know her? Why haven’t they come around? Why haven’t you left this house?”
“Losing Skip was hard, but Austin’s death crippled me. If it weren’t for Brystol . . .”
She didn’t want to see the looks of pity and sorrow on their faces—she wasn’t ready.
“But you are now?”
“You’re here. My granddaughter is here. You both give me purpose.”
Brystol is a well-adjusted fourteen year old and time-shares her summer holidays between Brooklyn’s parents in Seattle and Carly in Cape Harbour. Family is all about the love you made with the people you cared about the most. It rarely has anything to do with blood.
After Carly dies, she leaves all her worldly possessions, the inn and estate including Austin’s trust fund to Brystol. She is told of her parentage and Bowie’s parents learn that they’re grandparents to a fourteen year old. Which means that Bowie can have children, thus, Rachel lied to him.
The Inn is restored to its former glory, Simone remains in charge of the inn, Bowie is invited to move in with Brooklyn and Brystol, they marry and ultimately collaborate on future projects… and the friends reunite.
Perhaps they needed the time apart from each other, to grow and learn, before finding their forever. Bowie’s love for Brooklyn remained unwavering despite time and distance.
An emotional rollercoaster of diverse characters. Rennie remained a truly incredible, supportive best friend.
Minor grammatical flaws.