stopped outside the next shop she came to, the local real estate office, whose windows were covered in sheets for summer rentals and properties for sale.
She stared at the real estate listings, her eyes popping when she saw how much some of the homes were listed for—homes not even on the west side of the island, homes that were smaller, tucked into the forest, not even walkable from town.
The answer to her problems, it was starting to seem, would be to sell Sunset Cottage.
Chapter Eight
Ellie
Hope was sitting on the front porch when Ellie hopped off her bike, tired from another long day at the studio.
“Come join me!” Hope said with a smile. “The girls are already down for the night.”
Ellie glanced in the house through the open screen door. She’d been dodging Gemma since her arrival but now the thought of joining her sister for a glass of wine on the porch sounded exactly like what she needed to push aside the pain in her chest over Simon. For a little while at least.
“Gemma’s inside,” Hope said, as if reading her mind. “She feels bad, Ellie.”
Ellie froze. This was the first time that last summer’s argument had been broached directly, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to have this conversation right now.
“Come on. Don’t make me enjoy this sunset alone,” Hope encouraged. “This is our chance to relive all those wonderful summers. Like old times.”
Like old times. There was that line again.
Her sister had a point, and Ellie nodded. “I’ll be right back.” She had barely entered the front hallway when Gemma approached, the anxiety in her eyes at odds with the smile on her face.
“What’s going on?” Ellie asked, feeling uneasy. Was it the yard? It had grown again, but she’d told herself she would get to it this weekend, when she had more free time. She’d dared to think that tonight might be different, the kind of night she’d been hoping to have since her sisters announced that they were coming to visit.
But now, it seemed all that would have to wait.
“I was in town today,” Gemma said, and for one horrible moment, Ellie wondered if this had something to do with Simon. Had Gemma seen him? Had she said something about how happy Ellie was to have him back, without knowing of course that he was engaged to be married to another woman?
The humiliation! Ellie braced herself.
“And I saw the real estate listings for properties for sale,” Gemma continued.
Ellie nodded, waiting for Gemma to say more. Her stomach grumbled and she realized that she hadn’t eaten much today. Hadn’t eaten much since Simon’s big announcement, really.
She inched toward the kitchen, eager to get on with things. “So?”
“So…this house is worth even more than I thought,” Gemma said, raising an eyebrow.
“Wait. You want to sell Sunset Cottage?” Ellie felt her eyes bulge as she stared at Gemma. Gemma, who had not been to the island since she had graduated from college, had decided to waltz back in, after Gran was gone, and tell Ellie what she wanted to do with the place? “No. No way. Just no.”
“Hear me out—” Gemma said, stepping forward, but Ellie brushed by her, shaking her head until her ponytail whipped back and forth.
Her heart was hammering in her chest as she pushed deeper into the house and made her way to the kitchen. Tears blinded her eyes as she opened the fridge, only to be reminded that the light was still burned out. She cursed under her breath as she grabbed a bottle of wine by the neck (there were now several, along with cheese and bread and lunchmeat and vegetables, thanks to Hope’s trip to the market this week) and poured herself a glass. To the rim.
“Ellie! Come on out to the porch! Let’s talk!” That was Hope’s voice now. The traitor.
“Talk?” she asked angrily. “Or hear you out?” No one asked Ellie for anything because Ellie was…well, Ellie. Black sheep of the family. Starving artist. Irresponsible Ellie. She may as well have had it tattooed to her forehead. Ellie who had killed the vegetable garden. Ellie who wasn’t much of a handyman.
But they had no clue. None of them. This was an old house, and they each had a share in it. And up until now, she had been the only one contributing to its upkeep, and she couldn’t sink all of her money into it, not when she had the studio rent.
And without her say, they couldn’t do anything. Not