Page 8 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

As she dried off and dressed for bed, Rowan couldn’t help but think about her grandmother’s kind and gentle nature. Lynette had always been there for her, no matter what. Unlike Gwynn, Gran had never judged her or made her feel like a burden.

Rowan walked out of the bathroom feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. After slathering cream and lotion on her face and body, she climbed into bed. For the first time in months, maybe even years, she fell asleep with her mind thinking about the future and not dwelling on the past.

Chapter Two

Saturday morning, before finishing her second cup of coffee, Rowan answered the door to see three muscular high school football players standing on her doorstep. After agreeing on a price—twenty bucks an hour each—the kids got to work unloading the moving truck.

The sixteen-year-olds worked like pros. In between directing traffic about where to put stuff, she texted Daniel to thank him for sending help.

In under two hours, the teenagers had everything unloaded and arranged throughout the house without complaint or grumbling.

It was the best two hundred dollars she’d ever spent and that was after adding a generous tip to boot. The kids left with spending money, happy as clams. And she had an empty truck to return. Besides, it was time to do some exploring. After all, the town had changed a lot since she’d left ten years earlier. Back in December she hadn’t spent much time reacquainting herself with the stores. She intended to do that today because there were groceries she needed to buy.

She used her phone to look up where to return the truck. The address seemed familiar. And when she pulled up, she realized why. The memories came rushing back. It was Wally’s Pump N Go.

After squeezing into a parking space, Rowan hopped out of the truck and headed for the office. “Am I in the right place to drop off a U-Haul?”

“You are,” Lilly said.

“Thank God. I’m so tired of driving that beast of a truck.”

“We’ll take it off your hands and get you back home in no time. Let me see your paperwork.”

Rowan handed over the ten-page contract she’d signed in San Diego at the sprawling U-Haul It Mega Center—the opposite of Wally’s Pump N Go.

Lilly went through the checklist, asking her a routine set of questions about how much gas was left in the tank, any problems with the operation of the vehicle, and whether she’d left it in good working order.

“I left it as clean as I got it,” Rowan answered. “And it wasn’t exactly the newest model. It had something like a hundred thousand miles on the odometer. Oh, and the AC didn’t work. I drove all the way without air.”

“Sorry about that,” Lilly said. “But those trucks usually don’t see much maintenance. A time or two, they’ve even broken down on the highway and we’ve had to tow them into town. Be glad it got you here without breaking down and leaving you stranded on the side of the road, I guess that’s the main thing.”

“Then I’m very fortunate.”

“Welcome to Pelican Pointe,” Lilly offered. Reading the name from the contract, she added, “Rowan Eaton. I’m afraid I will need to charge you for filling up the tank, which will probably run you an additional sixty dollars, maybe more.”

Rowan handed over her credit card.

“I’ll be right back. Wally usually handles gassing up those trucks.”

Rowan watched as Lilly disappeared into the garage, where she assumed Wally had his head buried under the hood of a car. If that were the case, she’d probably be waiting a while. Her eyes drifted toward the side parking lot where a row of vehicles sat parked with cardboard stickers leaning up against the dashboards, their prices indicated the cars were waiting for new owners.

Curious, Rowan went over to the plate glass window, her eyes landing on a two-tone brown and tan colored pickup. Disbelief streaked through her belly. She took a second look and glanced around for the side exit. She went out to the parking lot. Sure enough, the sign said it was a 1984 Dodge Ram Prospector.

“There can’t be two of them,” Rowan mumbled, walking around to the back and rubbing her hand over a familiar dent in the bumper.

“Rowan Eaton,” Wally said, walking up behind her, wiping his hands on a well-worn greasy towel. “You’re Jim and Lynette’s granddaughter.”

“I am. This truck looks exactly like the pickup that belonged to my grandfather.”

“That’s because it’s Jim’s old pickup.”

Rowan continued to circle the truck and inspect every ding in the paint. “Gran used to keep it in the storage shed after he died. I didn’t even miss it all those times I came to visit. There was always so much to do in such a short amount of time while I was here—groceries to buy, doctor visits to make, medicines to pick up. I can’t believe I never asked her what happened to Granddad’s pickup.”

“Well, I don’t know the exact details. But at some point, Cleef Atkins must’ve talked your Gran into selling it to him. After Cleef passed away, I found it in sad shape in his barn.”

“My God, she must’ve needed the money for something and didn’t want to ask me for it. That’s the only reason I can think of that she’d ever have parted with it.”

“Ms. Dewhurst never said how it ended up there. She was like that, a very private woman who rarely engaged in small talk. I came by the pickup through an auction the town held after Cleef passed away. You see, all the proceeds went back into the town’s coffers, so I bought the truck and a few other old cars Cleef had because I like working on the older engines. I fixed the others up right away. I don’t usually have a problem selling these babies. But this one was special. Your grandmother stopped by one day to gas up her old Chevy and spotted it sitting here. She specifically asked me not to sell it to anyone else. I was to hold onto it for you.”

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