Imagine Summer

The New York Times bestselling author of Whisper Beach delights with her latest beach read about two estranged sisters who must decide to face the past or risk history repeating itself.

As a child, Skylar Mackenzie’s imagination always got her in trouble. Now it’s making her a fortune. She owns Imagine That, a toy and bookstore and creativity center in a small Rhode Island beach town where children, and adults, can use their imagination free from judgment.

Skye is about to embark on her biggest venture yet, a weekend retreat of family exploration. But it begins to unravel when she finds her estranged half-sister Amy on the doorstep. And Amy’s not alone.

She’s brought Skye’s first love, Connor Reid—the boy who broke her heart; the man who could break it again.

Amy claims she wants to make amends—but how can Skye trust her? It was Amy’s lies that drove her from home fifteen years before. Suddenly, Skye’s perfectly imagined summer is in jeopardy. Not to mention her perfectly ordered life. Or her beloved town’s financial future.

With Amy back to her old trouble-making ways, and Connor making Skye wonder what might have been, Skye makes a decision that may cost her everything.

Imagine Summer is a story of discovery, trust, and the courage to dream.

Chapter One

As a child, Skylar Mackenzie’s imagination always got her in trouble. Now it was making her a fortune. Well, maybe not a fortune, but enough. More than enough. And it kept growing.

Skye clicked out of the month’s expense spreadsheet and stood up, stretching with satisfaction. She was tired, but it was worth it.

She pushed the desk chair under the desk and grabbed her bag, before taking a last look around her office, the smallest room in the two storefront spaces that made up Imagine That and Imagine That Too.

She walked through both areas every night, making sure that the lights were turned off and that everything that needed to be unplugged or put away was. But really just to bask in the residual hum of ideas and art still hanging in the air. It was remarkable what good energy people could make if they only would.

The results of that evening’s adult Pipe Dreams class, an unbridled hour of pipe cleaner creativity, were lined up on a shelf ready to be picked up or added to at the next session. Some were two-dimensional, like paintings; others defied gravity to rise in the air.

Every one of them was amazing.

Skye smiled, knowing that at least two of the people participating in tonight’s class had been executives from a Hartford advertising firm, who had asked her if she’d ever thought about designing de-stressing workshops for corporations.

She’d practically laughed in their faces. She was dead on her feet most nights. With just the two stores and the upcoming summer discovery weekend, she was swamped. She didn’t even have time or energy for the people who meant the most to her.

Who knew that a crazy idea she’d thrown out in the pub one night after a couple of beers would turn into this? Skye’s announcement of, “I want to open up an idea store,” was met first with silence then, “Why the hell not,” from her mostly on-again significant other, Jack. Seconded enthusiastically by her best friend, Maya, and her husband, Sonny, who merely said, “Huh,” and after an elbow from Maya, added, “Sounds great.”

So she did.

First a book, toy, and activity store for children, it quickly expanded into the vacant store next door, which was refitted to include several Creativity Without Borders areas for children and adults alike. Maya took on the day-to-day running of the store, and the discovery sessions were led by a bevy of volunteer and hired docents and artists. Which left Skye to keep everything working smoothly, scheduling workers and workshops, ordering supplies, balancing the books, and everything else.

She switched off the lights, set the alarm, then turned left out of the store, taking one last quick peek through the glass window. All was quiet. She blew at strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail and smiled to herself in her window reflection.

“Onward and upward,” she said to the night and turned down the sidewalk toward Mike’s Dog and Pony Pub to meet her friends.

She spotted Jack first. Tall and lanky, he was leaning on the bar in conversation with Mike himself, who bartended on weeknights, and Skye paused just to appreciate the view. Maya called Jack a lean, mean furniture-designing machine, unlike Maya’s husband and Jack’s partner, Sonny, who was built more along the lines of Thor.

Skye scooted onto the free stool beside Jack and kissed his cheek. He smelled like soap; his hair was still damp from a shower and curled at the ends, dampening the frayed neck of his favorite T-shirt.

“Hey,” Jack said. “Sonny and Maya are in the back booth. I just stopped to shoot the breeze with Mike.”

Mike slid Skye’s favorite microbrew toward her. “I’m trying to get his advice on some tear-off coupons to put up during Discover It Weekend. Jack said he’d come up with something with some real pizzazz.”

Jack leaned back to reveal several paper napkins with scribbling on them.

“Looks like you succeeded,” Skye said and took a well-deserved sip of beer.

“A beer on the house? I couldn’t say no,” Jack said and waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to you ordering a burger and sweet potato fries,” Skye said. “And me tasting a few. I’m starving, but I promised Aunt Roxy and Hildy I would have dinner with them.”

Jack gathered up the napkins, folded them into his T-shirt pocket, and slid Skye off the stool. She just had time to grab her beer before his arm was around her waist and they were making a beeline for their usual booth.

There were way too many empty tables. It was midweek but it was summer. Each year the burgers and beer got better, but the foot traffic got worse. Once the college students left for home, downtown became a virtual ghost town. It filled up again at midsummer when the tourists flooded in, but that was mainly because the town beach had a perfect view of the Newport Fourth of July fireworks without the Newport traffic and parking restrictions.

The Fourth was only a week away and though the weekends were beginning to pick up, the local businesses were still feeling the bite during the week.

But the town had a plan, starting with Skye’s Discover It Weekend. Enough fun to appeal to families and sophisticated enough to bring in the big bucks. But it was taking a huge amount of planning as well as the physical refitting of the old family camp by the river to accommodate the two hundred participants. Lots of planning—and even more persuasion to convince Herb Pritchard to delay the camp’s sale until after the summer.

Fingers crossed everything would come together with time to spare. And the improvements that Skye was making would add sale value to the camp for the Pritchards.

“All done?” Maya asked when Skye slid into the dark green banquette across from her.

“Ye-ep. And I must say we had a very good June. And thanks to you by the way.”

Maya frowned. “Me?”

Skye noticed that Maya had pulled her normally straight hair onto the top of her head into an explosion of shiny, black curls. When had she starting curling her hair? Was it possible that Skye hadn’t noticed?

“What did I do?” Maya asked.

“Sundays in the Park with George?” Skye said. “Brilliant. Story hour with George Zenakis, he of the silvery voice, accompanied by Tizzy Lane’s homemade ice cream and a goldendoodle. It was bound to be a success.”

“And messy,” Sonny added in his rumbly voice.

Maya snuggled comically against him, her petite, small-boned figure practically disappearing into his six feet of muscle.

“Amazing how much ice cream a dog can wear after an hour of quiet reading,” Maya said and smiled adoringly at her husband.

Skye and Jack exchanged looks. Their friends were laying it on thick tonight.

“Well, here’s something else to think about,” Skye said.

Bea Clark came to take their order. Bea had been the Pony’s barmaid “since forever” and knew everybody’s favorite beer and their most closely hidden secrets.

“You’re not eating?” she asked Skye, pulling her pencil out from behind her ear. “Oh right, it’s girls’ night at Roxy’s. Tell them I said hi.” Bea took their orders and stuck her pencil, which she hadn’t used, back behind her ear and headed off toward the kitchen.

“What else do we need to think about?” Sonny asked. “We’ve got a pretty full bill already. And you know, Jack and I do have to work on stuff that pays sometimes . . .”

Maya elbowed him in the ribs. “I pay you.”

“You sure do, babe.”

“Could you two—” Skye noticed the orange juice at Maya’s place instead of her usual microbrew. She lifted both eyebrows in question.

Maya and Sonny turned as one to grin across the table.

“We’re pregnant,” Maya said, hiccuped, and burst into tears. “Happy tears,” she managed before throwing her arms around Sonny and sobbing while Sonny gently patted her back and shrugged at the other two.

“That’s incredible,” Skye said, then thought, What a stupid thing to say. They’d been trying for several years already. “That’s wonderful,” she amended. “I’m so happy for you.” She cut a look at Jack, who took the cue.

“Oh, yeah. That’s great.”

Skye rolled her eyes at him. “So tell us everything. When are you due? Are you going to find out if it’s a boy or girl? We’ll have to have a shower,” she effused, while her selfish side thought, Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re going to have to quit work.

But even if she did, Skye was really happy for Maya. She had been so patient, tried not to let the fact that nothing seemed to happen get her down. She’d even discussed the subject of adoption with Skye a couple of times, Maya saying she was afraid Sonny wouldn’t go for it.

Well, hell, now they could do both.

“Here’s to new Baby Daniels,” Skye said and lifted her beer bottle.

Bea came back with the salads. “What are we celebrating?” she asked, neatly placing three bowls on the table.

Skye looked at Maya.

“We’re pregnant,” Maya practically sang.

“Well, honey, that is good news. When’s the shower? I gotta get over to Newport and get some baby yarn. Blue or pink?”

“Don’t know,” Maya said. “We’re going to be surprised.”

“Well, okeydokey then,” Bea said. “Rainbow yarn to the rescue. Back in a jiff with your meals.” They watched as she stopped at several tables on her way to the kitchen. Then the smiles and waves from the other diners.

“One thing about a small town,” Sonny said. “Everybody knows your business.”

“It’s like a big family,” Maya said, her eyes swimming again.

Yeah, thought Skye. “It is.”

They all toasted the new addition and Skye peppered the expectant couple with questions until the food came. Then she picked at Jack’s fries while she listened to Maya happily describe their plans for a nursery, shopping for the safest car seat . . . .

Skye needed to get going, but she didn’t want to cut Maya’s exuberance short. She knew that as soon as she left, the two men would turn the conversation to other important topics like wood types, truck repairs, and who was favored for the weekend game.

But she couldn’t wait any longer without being late. She took a last sip of her beer and motioned for Jack to scoot over. “I hate to leave all this excitement, but Hildy’s making brisket and I don’t want to keep them waiting. Congratulations, you two.”

“See you later?” Jack asked as she got out of the booth.

“Yep. Your house or mine?”

“Mine. I want to get this design done for Mike. I think he’s just a little concerned about business.”

Mike and most of the town, Skye thought. Only a few of the more upscale businesses were doing at all well, including hers. But she and the chamber of commerce had great hopes for the future. Now just to implement them.

“Are you coming in tomorrow?” she asked Maya.

Maya frowned. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Skye shrugged.

“I’m good. I’m not sick, I’m pregnant!” Maya warbled into a falsetto.

Skye laughed. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait, what were you going to tell us that needed thinking about before I stopped you with my most perfect announcement?”

“What? Oh, just that two execs from the Lexington Advertising Agency in Hartford dropped in to check out the workshops.”

“Just dropped in,” Jack said dryly.

“Whoa,” said Maya.

“They felt the need to de-tense with a little macramé?” Sonny asked.

“Pipe cleaner art. They wanted to know if I’d be interested in doing corporate events.”

“Wow, what did you tell them?” Maya asked.

“That I’d think about it. Now I gotta run.” A quick kiss for Jack and Skye was headed to the door.

The walk through town to the beach was one of Skye’s favorite ways of relaxing after a day well spent. It was close to eight, dusk, not light not dark but hovering somewhere in between.

She blew out a deep breath. Breathed in again. Ironic that someone whose business was to encourage people’s creativity in order to de-stress would so often be stressed herself. It came from owning a business, she guessed, that and being responsible for employees, and for somehow becoming an activist for the local business community.

She was happy to do it for people she cared about. She owed her creativity and her success to Aunt Roxy and Hildy and to the town. Her sense of belonging, too. Everything, if she thought about it.

Skye stopped when she came to the stone seawall just to enjoy the view. To her left the town beach was empty except for a few lingering gulls. Beyond it, the last of the setting sun glittered on the surface of the swells. Below her, a cluster of cottages sloped down to the shore.

The little neighborhood known as Sunny Point had started as a private beach community decades ago. Now it was a mix of permanent and vacation homes, summer and academic rentals, constructed in “early higgledy-piggledy” style, according to Roxy, crammed closely together wherever and in whatever direction there was room.

All the cottages were quite old, having withstood the test of time by being built by trusted local builders on a slight rise above sea level. They were protected on one side by glacial boulders, and on the other by smaller jetties, coves, and inlets that laced west along the shoreline to the actual point that gave Sunny Point its name.

Roxy’s three-story cottage was large enough to house an extended family. Something that neither Roxy nor Skye had, the family having dispersed or died out several generations ago.

Like the other beachfront “cottages,” the front of the house faced the ocean with a small front lawn of warring zoysia and chickweed that sloped down to a white sand beach. And for the less active, there was a set of wooden stairs a few feet away.

The back side of the house faced the drive with parking slots for family and a guest or two, a main entrance, and a side door that opened directly into the kitchen.

Usually Skye walked around to the kitchen door, passing through Hildy’s garden of abundant excess, where vegetables and flowers mixed and tumbled together and made a home to butterflies, bees, and the occasional mosquito.

Tonight Skye knew Hildy would be busy with last-minute preparations, having banished Roxy—who was something of a liability in the kitchen—to another part of the house and out of her way.

So Skye rang the back doorbell and stepped inside.

“I’m here,” she called.

Roxy’s “Come on in,” echoed in her ear, followed by the door to the entryway closet opening and an angular figure unfolding into the hallway. “I swear that closet is getting smaller,” Roxy said, straightening to her full height.

Roxy was Skye’s mother’s older sister. Tall, taunt, and thin, she was the only one of the Kyle family who was a real redhead.

She always wore her hair pulled up, but left unattended on the top of her head, whether intentionally or through lack of concern was still a mystery, though she’d been known to call it her Katherine Hepburn look.

“What were you doing in there?” Skye asked, attempting to peer around Roxy’s shoulder.

Roxy tossed an old pair of Wellingtons back into the cavernous closet and brushed her hands on her plaid work shirt. “Hildy set me to cleaning out the winter boots and coats to make room for . . .” She trailed off. “I don’t mind having Hildy living here. Actually don’t tell her, but I love the company. And God knows we can use the money from turning her cottage into an Airbnb.

“And I thank you for the brilliant idea, and helping us get started, but if she thinks I’m going to open my home to strangers, she’s got another thing coming.”

“Is she thinking that?”

“Not exactly, but she said we should be prepared to take in any overflow from Discover It Weekend.”

“No, Aunt Roxy. We’ve got enough places in town on the Where to Stay list so that should never happen. She’s just yanking your chain.”

“And she does it so well. I don’t know how we’ve stayed friends for so long.”

Hildy stuck her head out of a door down the hall. “My brisket,” she said drily and disappeared again.

“She’s got you there,” Skye said. Hildy and Roxy had been neighbors and friends for decades; total opposites in most things except loyalty and energy. Hildy was short, stocky, and pleasingly soft with hair gone naturally gray and cut to frame her face so as not to get in her way while she gardened and cooked—and did all the domestic chores that she loved and Roxy despised.

“Indeed, and . . .” Roxy cupped her hand to her mouth and shouted, “I don’t know what I would do without her, but don’t tell her I said that.” She dropped her hand and grinned. “I swear we have as much fun as we did as neighbors, and since going into the B and B biz, she’s got more interest in life than she’s shown since Emmet died.

“So I have to clean out the occasional closet.” Roxy shrugged and closed the closet door. “Come on back. I have a nice cab breathing on the porch.”

Roxy turned to lead the way, just as car lights flashed in the window by the door. The car came to a stop just outside and two doors slammed.

“Is Hildy expecting guests tonight? Didn’t she put a lockbox on her cottage so she wouldn’t be bothered by people all the time?”

“Yes, she did,” Roxy said. “And they’re not due until tomorrow.” A knock sounded on the door. “Maybe someone is lost.”

Skye stepped out of the way while Roxy went to answer the door.

A young woman stood in the doorway, blond hair making a nimbus of curls against the lowering sun. It was an interesting effect, but it left her face in shadow, making it impossible to see her features.

Roxy opened the door wider. The woman’s face came suddenly into view.

And Skye’s world went out of focus.

Amy. Skye’s half sister. Little Princess Face. It’s what Skye’s father and stepmother called her. Delicate pointed chin, wide blue eyes, slightly turned up nose. Little Princess Face. Skye could choke on the words just thinking about them.

Roxy hadn’t moved or managed to say anything.

Amy’s gaze flitted from Roxy to Skye and back to Roxy.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Roxy stepped aside.

“Why are you acting so strange? It’s me, Amy.”

Skye could only think, Is something wrong with Dad? Is that why she came?

She must have said the words out loud because Amy’s head snapped toward her. “Nothing’s wrong. I came to see you. I thought we could be friends again.”

Skye was faintly aware of someone still standing outside. Amy must have brought reinforcements.

She stood there looking so eager, so innocent, so clueless that Skye’s stomach heaved.

“That’s it? You want to be friends? Well, you can turn around and leave. Because no, just no.”

And since Amy, as usual, just stood there waiting for things to go her away, Skye turned and walked down the hall, into the kitchen, and out the side door.

“Hey, where are you going?” Hildy asked, a hot Dutch oven held in both hands.

Straight to hell, thought Skye and let the door slam behind her.