Chapter Sixteen

It had been years since Sarah walked the beach on this side of the bay. The scenic drive along the coast of town was breathtaking, and it was exhilarating to cruise along the twisty coastal road, feeling the warm breeze through the open windows, the sun breaking through the disappearing clouds. Pulling into a lot a block away from the beach, she parked the car, grabbed her purse, and headed down the boarded walkway.

Along the busy boardwalk, clothing and jewelry stores had tables of merchandise set up outside, sale signs broadcasting amazing deals for the beautiful handcrafted pieces. Long, flowy bohemian skirts caught her attention, and she stopped to admire them. Soft fabrics of various shades for deals she’d only find here in Blue Moon Bay. In L.A., the prices would be double.

Life here was wonderful. The ocean, the weather, the slower pace, all these amazing local shops and restaurants…

A street musician played a beat on bongo drums in the distance and up ahead, a local artist drew a family caricature sketch for a group of tourists. Sarah stopped to watch, then reluctantly moved on.

Seeing Harrison’s Blown Glass hut, she entered through the already open door. Lack of air-conditioning in the space made it stifling with the variety of heating machinery generating warmth throughout the store. Just a light breeze from a floor fan in the corner blew her sundress around her ankles and offered any form of relief from the heat. Sarah removed her light sweater and wrapped it around her waist.

It was definitely one of the oldest and smallest shops along the boardwalk. Wooden exposed beams in the ceiling and unfinished shelves along the walls gave the place a rustic, beachside appeal. The smell of paint mixed with a slight wood-burning scent left no question that the art was created on-site.

She slid her sunglasses to the top of her head as she scanned the dozens of differently shaped bulbs hanging from the ceiling, like the one Wes and Marissa had given her. Round, teardrop, oval…some with a delicate point at the bottom. All shapes and variety of color blends, picking up the sunlight through the window and casting a warm glow across the wooden floor.

“Hello?” she called out.

She didn’t see anyone inside, and she couldn’t hear anyone working in the back. Maybe they’d gone on break. Vendors rarely worried about theft on the boardwalk. They all looked out for one another in the community. She may not see anyone around, but no doubt, there were eyes on her.

She continued to look through the various shapes and sizes of the multicolored bulbs. Fiery red and orange combinations in the essence of flames adorned one shelf and she moved closer, not trusting her eyes. The vibrant mix of colors tricked the mind into believing the flames were actually moving.

“Amazing,” she breathed out. Whitney would love one of those for her birthday in March—a fiery Aries, it would suit her personality perfectly.

Along the next row of shelves, there was an assortment of red and green and gold combinations. A Holiday Sale sign announced 50 percent off the seasonal collection.

Immediately, Sarah envisioned a twenty-foot Christmas tree in the B&B foyer that year, decorated in these blown-glass bulbs. Classy, modern, elegant.

Christmas. Would she still own the inn by then? Whitney was being optimistic that Dove’s Nest would sell quickly once it was on the market, but maybe it would take a while to find the right buyer.

She reluctantly moved away from the holiday selection. She could always come back for them if she was in town for the holidays. Right now, she was on the hunt for green and blue mixes. She’d buy them to hang in the guest rooms at the B&B. A parting gift of sorts. Something she could leave behind.

She found what she was looking for along the far end of the tiny shop. A Seashore collection sat on the top shelf.

“Hello, miss,” a man said as she reached to pick up one that was perfectly round and a little bigger than her palm.

“Oh, hi…” she said, turning. “Do you work here?” The man had to be in his nineties, dressed in a pair of board shorts and a bright orange T-shirt, his skin dark, wrinkled from years in the sun. He wore an old baseball hat and an apron covered in multicolored paint around his waist.

“This is my place.” He stared at her as he wiped orange paint from his hands onto an old rag.

Sarah’s gaze drifted to a curtain behind the cash counter. “You make these back there?” she asked. His hands shook slightly, and it was hard to imagine them being capable of such delicate artistry.

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been making them for more than forty years. Right here in this tiny shop.” His old eyes studied her, and she shifted from one foot to the other.

He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint where she’d seen him before. “I’m Sarah Lewis…I own Dove’s Nest B&B… Well, I just inherited it, anyway. I may be selling it, but right now, it’s mine.”

Why had she mentioned that last part? This man was a stranger; he didn’t care if she stayed or left. Yet she felt the need to make the people in Blue Moon Bay aware of her intentions of restoring the B&B to its original landmark status in town.

He looked down. “I was sad to hear of Dove’s passing.”

“You knew her?” Though it shouldn’t be too surprising—they looked close in age, and Dove’s Nest had a great reputation in town.

Or at least had at one time. A reputation she hoped she could restore. Hopefully new owners wouldn’t change the name. She hadn’t really considered that until now.

“Yes, I knew her for a long time,” he said, his gaze rising to meet hers.

She squinted. “Hey, were you the man who came by to do the landscaping out back about a month ago?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “I used to help Dove sometimes with the maintenance of the place and such.”

“That was nice of you,” Sarah said, but the hair on the back of her neck peaked and she shivered slightly.

“I’m sorry to have trespassed on the beach the day of her funeral, but I just wanted to say goodbye,” he said, looking embarrassed.

The picture. He was the man in the background of their family picture. She opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke first.

“What brings you in, dear?”

Right. The reason she was here. It suddenly wasn’t so clear. “I wanted to buy about a dozen of these,” she said, picking up the one she’d been eyeing. “In this shape but various sizes ranging from this being the smallest to maybe twice this size, if you have them.”

He took it and scanned it, glancing at a few other shelves. “I think this is the last of this color scheme…in this shape anyway.”

“Darn. It was perfect.” She looked around, but the rest in the seafoam blue and aqua designs were a little too small.

“How many did you say you needed?”

“A dozen in total.”

He nodded. “When do you need them?”

Her plan was to go back to L.A. right after Labor Day. “A week from now?”

“Okay,” he said, carrying the bulb around to the back of the counter, where he reached for a pad of paper.

“Okay?”

“I’ll custom make them for you. Exactly like this one?”

“You’d do that? I mean, yes—exactly. Of course, the coloring swirls can be different, but similar colors and sizes.” Still in awe, she reached for her wallet. “I’ll pay in advance.”

He held out a hand. “No need, dear. When you come back to get them is fine.”

She put her wallet back slowly, glancing around the shop. Other than a few beach photos and a few decorative surfboards hanging on the walls, there was nothing inside but the shelves of blown-glass items. There had to be five hundred different pieces—all unique in some way. “These are really incredible.”

“It’s my life. It gives me joy. I don’t even worry about selling them…it just passes the time, you know?”

She nodded. “Well, they are beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

She cleared her throat. “I didn’t receive your invoice…for the yardwork.”

“There’s no invoice. I did it for Dove.”

Her chest tightened. “Well, I could use the help if you’re interested in continuing…but I’d insist on paying you.”

He smiled, and his eyes looked ten years younger. “I think I’m getting a little old for the work now. Besides, it was just for her.”

Sarah nodded. “Okay, I understand.”

Unfortunately, she understood too much and not enough at the same time. Her stomach knotted as she tried to picture him as a young man… It could be the man in her grandmother’s journal, but she couldn’t know for sure without his name.

“I’ll have these ready for you next week.” He tore the slip of paper off the notepad and folded it, then tucked it under the glass bulb on the counter.

“Great. Thank you.” She hesitated.

Just ask. Ask him his name.

Maybe she could find the information online. Chickening out, she put on her sunglasses and headed toward the door.

“Sarah.”

She stopped.

“Your grandmother would be proud to see the place and what you’ve done with it. It looks just like it once did,” he said.

The words warmed her. “I hope so.” She paused. She had to know what her gut already did. “I’m sorry…what was your name?”

“Jack Harrison.”

“Nice to have met you, Jack,” she said, hurrying out of the shop and away from any other answers she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

…

Wes kissed Marissa’s forehead as he tucked her into bed that evening. “Okay, time to sleep.”

“I don’t know why I can’t stay up later tonight. Aunt Lia’s here,” she said.

“You spent all day with her, and now you need rest. She probably needs a rest, too,” he said with a laugh, glancing at Lia in the bedroom doorway.

Nine-year-olds were exhausting, especially for people who didn’t have kids of their own, and four hours at the beach that day, followed by board games and a full rundown of her Fortnite progress must have Lia ready to call it a night as well. She stifled a yawn behind her hand.

“See?” Wes told Marissa.

“Fine. Will I see you tomorrow?” Marissa asked her.

“Lia might have to visit her parents tomorrow,” Wes answered for her.

“Lia doesn’t like her parents. She’d rather spend time with me,” Marissa argued.

“True that,” Lia said with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you at the B&B. You’ll be there working with Sarah, right?”

“Yes,” she said excitedly. “And I can show you the secret project Sarah and I are working on.”

“Can’t wait,” Lia said.

“Wait, Lia gets to see this amazing secret project, but I don’t?” Wes faked a look of hurt.

Marissa grinned. “You’ll see it eventually. Have some patience.”

“I’ll try… Now sleep,” Wes said, pulling the pink covers up over her and cocooning her in tight.

“I forgot to kiss Mom,” Marissa said, struggling to untuck an arm. She picked up the picture frame with the photo of Kelly in it on her bedside table. It was taken just months before she’d been diagnosed. After that, Kelly had refused pictures, saying she only wanted to leave behind good memories, snapshots of the good times for her daughter to recall whenever she remembered her.

Wes looked away. Time might dull the ache they all felt, but Kelly’s absence was still strongly mourned. Time couldn’t erase just how much better the world had seemed with her in it.

“Good night,” Wes said as she put the picture back. He turned off the bedroom light and followed Lia back out into the living room.

“Think she has enough toys?” Lia scanned the room that looked like a toy tornado had passed through. They’d played every board game the family had, built a Lego Friends Treehouse kit, played hours of video games, and made a mess experimenting with Marissa’s new chemistry set that had finally arrived in the mail. Marissa was definitely making up for Lia’s lack of visiting, cramming everything she could into the day.

“You’re the one spoiling her with all of this. You have to stop sending presents all the time.” Wes had fought against the gaming console, but somehow Marissa had conveyed her desire for one to Lia months before and one had arrived shortly after. Unfortunately, he was almost as addicted to it now as his daughter was, and he’d needed to put screen time restrictions on both of them.

“It’s guilt,” Lia said, kneeling to put away the game controllers as Wes packed the board games away onto a shelf.

“Are you hungry? Did you want anything else to eat?”

She laughed. “Not after all that meat you fed me.” Hot dogs, hamburgers, and steak had been barbecued that evening, and they’d consumed them all. He’d made veggie burgers as well, but Lia had opted for the real stuff.

“Yeah, I thought you’d gone vegan?” Wes said.

“I’m on vacation. You said yourself I’m supposed to be vacating my life.”

“But I don’t want to be a bad influence on you. Aren’t you and Malcolm training for another climb? I thought I saw a post about it on Facebook a few months ago.”

Lia turned off the game console and stood, shoving her hands into the pockets of her shorts. “Actually, it’s just me.”

“You’re climbing Mount Kenya alone?”

She shook her head. “With a guide. Malcolm decided not to join me this time.”

“Things still rocky between you two? Pun intended,” he said, his concern evident despite his attempt at lightening the question. Lia and Malcolm had only been married a few years, but the year before, things had started to go downhill. Wes didn’t know all the details and he respected her privacy not to ask, but he suspected their busy careers might have something to do with it.

“Everything’s fine. Or it will be eventually,” she said, refusing to meet his gaze.

He suspected things weren’t fine, but he really hoped they could work it out. Malcolm wasn’t his favorite person—the guy was a little high on himself for Wes’s taste, but he seemed to suit Lia’s high-strung personality well. It took a special kind of partner to keep up with his friend. Malcolm had the energy and stamina and had seemed up for the challenge…at least initially.

“Is that what this reunion is about?” he asked gently.

Lia studied her perfectly manicured fingers. “Maybe a little. I guess I’m hoping that bringing our families together might reignite a spark or something.” She paused. “So…Marissa tells me you get a lot of attention from the single moms in town.”

He groaned at the change of subject. He’d rather be talking about her love life. His was basically nonexistent…or it had been until Sarah had planted that kiss on him. “She’s noticed, huh?”

“FYI—she notices everything. Seriously, though, anyone caught your eye?” She sat on the sofa, curling her legs under her.

Should he tell her about his connection to Sarah, the kiss? He wasn’t eager to know her opinion on that yet or confess his embarrassing retreat, so he shrugged as he sat next to her. “Not really…I don’t know. Besides, this place isn’t exactly a bachelor pad.”

There were signs of Marissa and Kelly everywhere in the house, including all the family photos still hanging on the walls.

What was the right way to deal with those things? When Wes finally decided he was ready to move on, what did they do with all of Kelly’s memories? Just one of many reasons to stay single and keep any developing feelings for Sarah repressed.

“So, how are things going at the B&B with Sarah?” she asked. Was she asking out of simple curiosity or was she fishing for information? He couldn’t detect if she sensed anything between them or not, but someone would have to be completely out of tune to not have picked up a vibe between him and Sarah that morning. He’d tried to keep things casual, light…but there’d been unresolved tension.

“Fine. Why?”

She studied him. “Were you two close in high school? Before she moved away?”

“We were…friends, and she tutored me in math all through my junior and senior year. She’s probably the only reason I graduated.” He leaned back against the cushions and stretched his legs out in front of him.

At the time, he hadn’t realized just how much he owed Sarah, but looking back, he would have failed miserably without her. She not only helped him understand the math concepts, she kept him on track and focused whenever he wanted to quit.

“Have you guys kept in touch over the years?” Lia asked.

“Nah, not really. Just online, but those connections never feel real, you know?” He wasn’t a fan of Facebook or Instagram… But when she went back to L.A., maybe he would use those online programs more to stay in touch. “I think she might actually pull off this reopening. Dove’s Nest is important to the people around here.” He shot her a look.

“What about Sarah? Is she important to the people around here?” Lia asked pointedly.

Wes sighed. “I don’t know yet.” He paused and relented under Lia’s look. “I mean, I do know, I’m just not ready to admit it. Did you ever think adult life would be this complicated?”

“If by ‘complicated,’ you mean ‘shitty,’ then nope,” she said. “I did not.”