Strawberry Summer
Table of Contents
Synopsis
Praise for Melissa Brayden
By the Author
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
About the Author
Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
Strawberry Summer
Just because you’re through with your past, doesn’t mean it’s through with you.
Margaret Beringer didn’t have an easy adolescence. She hated her name, was less than popular in school, and was always cast aside as a “farm kid.” However, with the arrival of Courtney Carrington, Margaret’s youth sparked into color. Courtney was smart, beautiful, and put together—everything Margaret wasn’t. Who would have imagined that they’d fit together so perfectly?
But first loves can scar.
Margaret hasn’t seen Courtney in years and that’s for the best. But when Courtney loses her father and returns to Tanner Peak to take control of the family store, Margaret comes face-to-face with her past and the woman she’s tried desperately to forget. The fact that Courtney has grown up more beautiful than ever certainly doesn’t help matters.
Praise for Melissa Brayden
First Position
“Brayden aptly develops the growing relationship between Ana and Natalie, making the emotional payoff that much sweeter. This ably plotted, moving offering will earn its place deep in readers’ hearts.”—Publishers Weekly
“First Position is romance at its finest with an opposites attract theme that kept me engaged the whole way through.”—The Lesbian Review
“You go about your days reading books, thinking oh, yes this one is good, that one over there is so good, and then a Melissa Brayden comes along making everything else seem…well just less than.”—The Romantic Reader
Waiting in the Wings
“This was an engaging book with believable characters and story development. It’s always a pleasure to read a book set in a world like theater / film that gets it right…a thoroughly enjoyable read.”—Lez Books
“This is Brayden’s first novel, but we wouldn’t notice if she hadn’t told us. The book is well put together and more complex than most authors’ second or third books. The characters have chemistry; you want them to get together in the end. The book is light, frothy, and fun to read. And the sex is hot without being too explicit—not an easy trick to pull off.”—Liberty Press
“Sexy, funny and all around enjoyable.”—Afterellen.com
Heart Block
“The story is enchanting with conflicts and issues to be overcome that will keep the reader turning the pages. The relationship between Sarah and Emory is achingly beautiful and skillfully portrayed. This second offering by Melissa Brayden is a perfect package of love—and life to be lived to the fullest. So grab a beverage and snuggle up with a comfy throw to read this classic story of overcoming obstacles and finding enduring love.”—Lambda Literary Review
“Although this book doesn’t beat you over the head with wit, the interactions are almost always humorous, making both characters really quite loveable. Overall a very enjoyable read.”—C-Spot Reviews
How Sweet It Is
“‘Sweet’ is definitely the keyword for this well-written, character-driven lesbian romance novel. It is ultimately a love letter to small town America, and the lesson to remain open to whatever opportunities and happiness comes into your life.”—Bob Lind, Echo Magazine
“Oh boy! The events were perfectly plausible, but the collection and the threading of all the stories, main and sub plots, were just fantastic. I completely and wholeheartedly recommend this book. So touching, so heartwarming and all-out beautiful.”—Rainbow Book Reviews
Kiss the Girl
“There are romances and there are romances…Melissa Brayden can be relied on to write consistently very sweet, pure romances and delivers again with her newest book Kiss the Girl…There are scenes suffused with the sweetest love, some with great sadness or even anger—a whole gamut of emotions that take readers on a gentle roller coaster with a consistent upbeat tone. And at the heart of this book is a hymn to true friendship and human decency.”—C-Spot Reviews
Just Three Words
“A beautiful and downright hilarious tale about two very relatable women looking for love.”—Sharing Is Caring Book Reviews
The Soho Loft Series
“The trilogy was enjoyable and definitely worth a read if you’re looking for solid romance or interconnected stories about a group of friends.”—The Lesbrary
Strawberry Summer
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Strawberry Summer
© 2017 By Melissa Brayden. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-868-9
This Electronic book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: April 2017
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editors: Lynda Sandavol and Stacia Seaman
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design By Sheri (graphicartist2020@hotmail.com)
By the Author
Waiting in the Wings
Heart Block
How Sweet It Is
First Position
Strawberry Summer
Soho Loft Romances:
Kiss the Girl
Just Three Words
Ready or Not
Acknowledgments
I’ve always been fascinated by how important our formative years truly are. Humans are living longer these days, and reaching age 100 is no longer as shocking as it once was. Yet the years between age fourteen and twenty continue to be our most memorable and influential. This is the time when we decide who we are or who it is we want to become. We learn a variety of life’s lessons, take risks, and have our hearts broken, much to our own gut-wrenching surprise. These experiences stand out in our memories like no other—raw, wonderful, and vivid. I very much wanted to explore those formative years when I set out to write Strawberry Summer, and oh, what a nostalgic journey it turned out to be!
Thank you: Bold Strokes Books for giving my voice a home and being a great place to cultivate creativity; my fantastic, patient, and wise editor, Lynda Sandoval, for continuing to push me in the best way; my copy editor, Stacia Seaman, for making me look good and being so seamless to work with; my friends: Rachel, Nikki, and Georgia, for being you; C
arsen Taite and Barbara Ann Wright for sitting in a tiny cabin with me and being great cheerleaders as I hammered out the middle section of this book; to my family for making me feel like I’m awesome (whether I am or not); my dogs (Apple and Ryder) for snuggling up to me while I write; and Alan for being my rock and keeping the world at bay when I need it to be.
For my first love.
Now
Courtney Carrington was the last person on Earth I wanted to see.
Yet, there she stood. Big blue eyes, sun-streaked blond hair, and even more gorgeous than the last time I’d laid eyes on her—five years and three months ago, to be exact. Not that I’d kept track. God, what was she doing back in town anyway? I hadn’t planned on this, on the Courtney effect, but here it was. My palms felt clammy and I wasn’t sure which words to choose, stripped of that ability. Damn her for that.
Courtney seemed almost as uncomfortable as I did, which was something. As my eyes landed on hers, it felt as if the world around us paused. The everyday sounds dulled and everything went intricately still. Uncomfortably still, in response to the history we shared. If it weren’t for the acute pain that slashed in my chest at merely the sight of her, I would have thought this moment a dream.
“Maggie,” Courtney said. The statement hadn’t come with any additional words. Instead, Courtney eased a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s what she did when she was nervous. I hated that I knew that. I hated how much I used to love it.
Somehow, I’m still not sure how, I found my voice. “What are you doing here?” I managed to say. “You weren’t at the funeral, so I didn’t expect—”
“No. I’m sure you didn’t.” She shifted uncomfortably at the reference to her father’s service and adjusted the leather attaché that matched perfectly with the designer suit and jacket combo. I hadn’t glanced down, but I was fairly confident there were designer shoes to complete the ensemble. Courtney always had been too sophisticated for this town, and looking at her now, it was clear that the divide had only increased with time.
“Hey, Maggie, you okay?” my cousin Berta whispered from her spot at my elbow.
“Hi, Berta,” Courtney said and offered a small smile. “It’s really good to see you.”
“Courtney.” Berta nodded back, then softened because Berta had a huge heart. “I’m sorry about your father.”
“Thank you.”
I discreetly reached to the side and gave Berta’s hand an “I’m fine” squeeze, grateful she was there for this absolutely fantastic moment in my life. Sigh. She and I had met for lunch at Drew’s Deli that afternoon, one of those quick drive-by lunches people have in the middle of the week before racing off to work again. In our cases, Berta to her salon and me to the McAllister property. I was scheduled to show the home three times that afternoon and had no intention of being late for the first appointment. Unfortunately, Drew’s had been down a counter guy and lunch had run long, which was why Berta and I were scurrying across the square at the precise moment Courtney approached from the opposite direction. Sometimes the universe was a cruel, cruel place.
“The store is in disarray,” Courtney explained. “Someone needed to take the reins and put things back in order. So here I am.”
“And out of everyone at Carrington’s, they chose to send one of their vice presidents?” It wasn’t likely and we both knew it.
“Of course not.” Courtney glanced at the ground, then met my eyes again, the connection making my stomach tighten. How could she still do that after all this time? Damn it. “I volunteered to come back to Tanner Peak. Carrington’s is an important fixture in this town, and I wanted to make sure that doesn’t change. As you know, this particular store is very important to my family.”
“Very noble of you,” I said.
She closed her eyes briefly. “Please don’t. I wanted to come back.”
“I’m sure the town appreciates your concern, but I’m late for a showing and better run.”
Courtney backed up as I moved forward. “I don’t want to keep you, but I thought maybe we could find a time to talk. Over coffee, perhaps?”
“Uh, yeah, I don’t think so.” My own uniquely developed code for hell no. “I’m not sure talking is necessary.”
“Isn’t it? Maggie, I have a lot—”
“Margaret. My name is Margaret.”
Courtney closed her eyes briefly at the insinuated formality. “Fair enough. Margaret, I’m only asking for a few minutes.” She passed a quick gaze to Berta and back to me, dropping her tone. “There are things I want to say, if you’ll just give me that chance.”
“Yeah, except I’m swamped this week unfortunately. I’m booked with showings and we’re at the peak of—”
“Summer harvest,” Courtney finished. “I remember. I also ran into your father this morning. He invited me to help pick the leftovers. Said it was a really good year for the strawberries.”
“It was,” I conceded. “We were lucky. Fewer freezes. But I think we’re good on help, actually, so don’t go out of your way.”
“Too late,” Courtney said. “I already told him I’d be there Saturday.”
Fantastic news. The afternoon couldn’t get any better. Truly. “Awesome,” I said flatly.
Courtney attempted a smile in the midst of all the awkwardness. “I’ll let you two get back to what you were doing. Think about that coffee, Margaret. If this week is bad, then maybe next. I’m here for a while.”
And just like that she was gone.
I stood there in disbelief, my heart beating out of my chest in traitorous thumps. Courtney Carrington was back. Right here in Tanner Peak. Really? This was happening?
Chapter One
The first summer
When you’re approaching the end of your junior year of high school, Fridays become the beacon of light you crawl toward on your hands and knees throughout the rest of the school week. I lived for Fridays, dreamt of them, wanted to have their children and not care about who judged us for our love.
However, today was not a Friday I was looking forward to, which said a lot about its potential for suckage. I was a less-than-popular kid at Tanner Peak High School who was about to get up in front of her entire U.S. history class and give a much-dreaded presentation. When it was over, I could cling to the promise of a weekend of reading, swimming, and working outside under the big blue sky.
I repeat, when it was over.
First, however, my worst fear would be realized in living color.
The topic of my presentation, the tactics of persuasion Abraham Lincoln employed on his cabinet members in an effort to abolish slavery, was one I was actually interested in. I didn’t mind the research or the speech writing or even the rehearsal period. However, getting up in front of my classmates, who already found me boring and uninteresting, sounded about as enjoyable as a root canal on my birthday. Tanner Peak was a small town, and once you were deemed a “farm kid,” your social calendar remained relatively open. Wide open. I’d always done my best to be friendly but stayed out of the line of teenage fire. So far, so good. I didn’t have a lot of friends, but I didn’t have any enemies either, and that was key.
“Margaret, you’re scheduled to start us off today,” Mr. Blankenship said from behind his overly ornate oak desk. I still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten it through the door of the classroom to begin with. I thought on it often. That desk was ridiculously large. “Margaret?”
Right. It was now or never.
“Yeah. I’m ready.” I stood and took a deep breath, reminding myself that in six short minutes this whole thing would be over, and in a couple of hours I’d have the weekend stretched out long and luxuriously in front of me. Maybe I’d take a dip in the creek later. The temperatures had been climbing.
I walked to the front of the room, already self-conscious but doing my best to mask it. I’d spent the better part of my week selecting what would hopefully be a non-offensive outfit for this very occasion with the goal of simplicity. As hard as I tried, I was
no fashionista, and my style seemed to fall about a year too late to be trendy. However, it’s difficult to screw up jeans, a slim-fitting maroon T-shirt, and Chuck Taylors. So that’s what I went with. I’d pulled my hair into a clip so it wouldn’t do something stupid like fall into my eyes.
I surveyed the room made up of twenty-four teenage faces. Mark Osgood was laughing at something Alexis Windell had just whispered to him. The cluster of cheerleaders already wearing their uniforms blinked back at me with mild tolerance. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and wanted desperately to sit back down again, but that wasn’t really an option. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, the door to the classroom swung open and Vice Principal Hendricks entered and held up a hand.
“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Blankenship, but I’ve brought you a new student.” On cue, twenty-four heads swiveled in unison as a striking blonde entered the room. We didn’t get a lot of new students. This was a big deal. “This is Courtney Carrington, who is joining us from Chicago.”
“Wonderful. Courtney, you can take that desk there,” Mr. Blankenship said, indicating a desk near the front of the room. The girl smiled confidently as she passed my classmates en route to her new desk. The desk next to mine.
Perfect. Another ultra-popular girl who thought the world existed to make her feel superior. Just what I needed.
With a wave, Mr. Hendricks departed the classroom and all eyes were back to me. The new girl, Courtney, looked up at me expectantly. I was, after all, standing in front of the classroom as if I had the floor. Except I was rattled now and trying to remember what it was that my presentation was about exactly. What I did notice was that the new girl’s skirt fell slightly above the knee and was made up of navy and maroon plaid. Instead of heels or sandals, she wore lace-up gray boots. I’d never seen lace-up boots look like that before. A skirt and boot combo would have never occurred to me in a million years.