Sometime in Summer by Katrina Leno

Author:Katrina Leno [Leno, Katrina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2022-06-28T00:00:00+00:00

Mom made gazpacho for dinner (she had recently announced that one of her summer goals was finding the perfect gazpacho recipe, and although I was beginning to get tired of cold soup, I didn’t dare tell her that, because it brought her so much damn joy to cook it every few days), and by the time she was done, there were more tomato guts on the walls of the kitchen than there were in our bowls. She and Dad drank chilled white wine, and I stuck with lemonade. We ate at the kitchen table with all the windows opened wide because the evening air was cool and made the kitchen smell like mint and seaweed and the pipe our neighbor smoked in his front yard, hoping his wife wouldn’t catch him.

We were planning a beach day for tomorrow, and Miriam and Everett were ironing out logistics: what time we’d meet, how long we’d stay, who’d pick up lunch beforehand.

“Wingaersheek Beach,” Dad said, finishing the last bit of gazpacho in his bowl and leaning back in his chair. “Probably my favorite beach in the whole wide world.”

“It’s great,” I agreed. “We went out on the sandbar. Kind of creepy, but also cool.”

“The best things in life are ‘kind of creepy, but also cool,’” Dad said. “The best things in life are also this gazpacho. Miriam, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Mom smiled and inclined her wineglass toward him before having a sip. “Many lesser recipes came before this one. I think I’ve almost nailed it.”

“I don’t see how it can get much better.”

“She put olives in one batch,” I said. “That was a rough night.”

“They weren’t the right kind of olives,” Miriam said. “I still think olives could work.”

“Olives, interesting. Castelvetrano?” Everett asked.

“That’s what I should have used,” Miriam replied.

“Can never go wrong with Castelvetranos.”

“Agreed,” Miriam said, reaching for my bowl and stacking it on top of hers, then adding Everett’s to the pile. “I’ll clean up in here. Why don’t you two go out on the porch and get comfortable? Or, Everett, you’re probably exhausted. Do you want to get going?”

“I have a few more minutes left in me,” he said. “To digest and sit and talk to my daughter.”

“Kind of gross, when you put it that way,” I said.

“Bodies fall into the ‘kind of creepy, but also cool’ category,” Everett said, getting up from the table. I followed him onto the front porch, and we made ourselves comfortable on the swing. It wasn’t quite dark enough for Kit-Hale yet. Everett leaned back against one arm of the swing, and I leaned against the other, facing him. “So,” he said, “tell me everything. Are you very sick of Rockport yet?”

“Not at all,” I said with a smile. “I like it here. It’s kind of like the town that time forgot.”

“Tell me about it.”

“And it’s nice not having to do anything. Like see people or make plans. I’ve been watching a lot of movies.”

“What else?” He reached over and touched the moonstone ring. And

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