Page 3 of Hooked on a Feeling

Starr sighed. How did she explain that while she loved and missed her grandfather and cherished the memories of all the amazing vacations she and her sister had had here as kids, she didn’t love it enough to want to be here forever? Thank God she and Summer had grandparents willing to fly them out alone and keep them for most summers. “I miss my grandpa, and I miss Nana.”

Lyle turned the truck off the interstate and along Gulf Boulevard. People milled up and down the streets, walking hand in hand. The Surf Shack was still there, as were a few other businesses. Blue Horizon Yachts was still the conglomerate, taking up nearly half the harbor. She stuck her tongue out at their obnoxious sign. That family only cared about money. Lyle stopped at the light, waiting for the drawbridge to close as one of Blue Horizon’s yachts meandered out into the sea.

“Some things never change, Lyle.” When they crossed the bridge, her heart dropped into her belly at her first full-on view of the marina. “Oh my gosh, but some things apparently do. What happened?” Starr’s heart squeezed, seeing the property for the first time since her grandfather had passed away. In her mind it was still like it was when her grandparents were alive and running it. The bright-blue buildings where the welcome center, restaurant, and store were located just steps from the harbor were no longer the Hyper Blue color her grandma raved endlessly about—more like a sad blue.

“I’m seventy-nine, Starr. Can’t get around like I used to. Can’t do the upkeep like I used to in my heyday.”

Boats were anchored on just a few slips along the dock, with the majority empty, water sloshing against the sides of the dock slips, making the reality of the situation that much more difficult to bear.

Lyle cleared his throat. “Sorry, kiddo. Funds quit coming in after the first year without Harold.” Lyle pulled to a stop in the large parking lot that once would have been so packed with cars, it would have been difficult to find a spot. He shut the ignition off and turned to her. “Funds meaning from your parents. You know that, right? They just take, take, take.”

Starr blinked back the water in her eyes threatening to spill over. Memories crashed through her of when Emerald Port Marina and Yacht Club was the place of all places. When The Shipwreck was full of energy and bustling with waiters and waitresses delivering steak and fresh fish. When little kids ran in and out of the Seaside Store holding candies and slushies while their parents filled up their boats. She closed her eyes, not wanting to look, not wanting the memory of better times to be tarnished by what was in front of her. “Why?” she whispered. “Why do my parents want to ruin every good thing that happens to them?”

“Some people aren’t cut out for running a business, let alone one that’s a thousand miles from their home.” He opened the door. “Come on. I’ll grab your luggage.”

Starr reluctantly got out of the truck and stared at the former masterpiece. It was all the same—the cottage and the marina which housed the welcome center, aptly named The Beach House. The backdrop of the harbor was still stunning. The dock slips were all there and beyond them a small boat ramp and barren land. But her eyes went back to the buildings. So many things were wrong with them, she couldn’t even imagine what was happening internally with the structures.

“I had the house cleaned for your arrival.” Lyle walked past her, rolling her luggage behind him. “There isn’t any food, though, so you’ll have to hit the store.”

She followed Lyle, fear clutching her stomach at what she might find inside the house. The wooden floors gleamed. The room was warm from the blinds being opened, allowing the sun to shine through. It was basically just as she remembered. To her left, the door to her grandfather’s office was closed, and she could almost hear him scolding her and her little sister, Summer, over slamming doors and running inside. That had only happened once, and he made sure the door had been locked from then on.

“All the linens are new,” Lyle said. “Lydia picked up some new ones and made up the bed in the guest room down the hall for you.”

“Thanks, Lyle.” She shifted her rolled-up yoga mat and set her water bottle on the kitchen counter. Suddenly, she just wanted a few minutes alone. Some time to think.

“Not a problem.” He turned to face her, hands on his hips. “I’m sorry this burden is falling on you, Starr. But what you see is what you get. Harold was my friend, and I’m not going to let this place sit and rot. As best as I can help it anyway. But when you’re ready, we need to have a long talk.”

Starr wiped away a single tear that squeaked out from her left eye. “I will. Give me some time, and we’ll get this sorted out.”

Lyle’s footsteps echoed across the wood floor as he let himself out. Another tear slipped down her cheek. Then another. Starr held her breath, unable to control the emotions zipping through her system. She gritted her teeth, picked up her water bottle, and chucked it across the living room. It hit the brick fireplace with a loud thud and clanged to the ground, knocking a fire poker from its holder on the way down. She glanced around for something else to throw, not feeling nearly as satisfied as she should have at being a short walk away from the beach.

Chapter Two

Starr wasn’t used to stress. Not by a long shot. The biggest stressor in her life was reiterating to clients that their posture needed to be this way or that to get the most out of their sessions. Occasionally, she had a client who didn’t pay their monthly membership, but with automated payments nowadays, that was few and far between.

Aside from work, her parents created the most drama in her life. Katherine Wallace Young and Doyle Pritchard Young. Which was why Starr had as little interaction with them as she could.

The best thing Starr could think of was to meditate. She would do some yoga, hoping like hell it would clear her thoughts and paint a better picture of what needed to happen with the marina. Sure, her parents wanted to sell as is and she had been on board with that idea, but now, she couldn’t let it go like that. She grabbed her water bottle from the fireplace hearth and rubbed the metal container where it had been dented from her throw. The framed portrait of her grandparents stared down at her, making her feel like they were watching her every move. “Can you tell me what to do here? It’s so much worse than I expected. If you’re watching, a little guidance, please.”

It was almost too much to deal with. She rolled her suitcase down the quiet hallway and stepped into the guest room Lydia had made up for her. A small bouquet of wildflowers sat on the dresser, making Starr smile. Lydia and Lyle had been so good to her family. The bed was neatly made, with a new bundle of throw pillows adding comfort to the nautical-themed room. She changed quickly into a sports bra and yoga shorts and put on sunscreen. She debated about putting on her swimsuit, but the overbearing burden of something needing to be done put her in a rush-rush state of mind.

She could meditate and do some poses in twenty minutes. Anything less than that wasn’t enough to get her body and soul into the proper frame of mind. Beyond twenty minutes made her feel like a superstar. She would take what she could get. She needed to come up with a plan. Her parents obviously wanted nothing to do with the property, and if Emerald Port was anything like Boulder, the marina was a gold mine. Thank God her grandfather had been smart enough to put it into a trust where her father couldn’t sell it right away. Otherwise, her parents would have taken any money and run. Well, slow-walked was more their style.

She locked the handle and tied the key to her shoelaces. The docks weren’t very far away, but it was better to be cautious than not. She slung her yoga mat over her shoulder and made her way down to the docks. It took approximately five seconds for the sun to heat her skin. She found the perfect spot close to the water and rolled out her mat. She did a few stretches and sat down in the center of her mat, folding her legs into Child’s Pose. She closed her eyes.

Damn it, she should have slathered more sunscreen on her face. But the sun felt good. Honestly, with her eyes closed and the sounds of the water and the city bustling alongside her, she could imagine that she was in Boulder, practicing alongside the creek. It was hard to clear her mind. She was angry with her mom and dad. They’d been free spirits their entire lives and had passed the trait on to her, but the difference with Starr was that she was determined. She was a hard worker. She wanted the best things in life. Oh, and she didn’t smoke weed like it was going out of style.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she had a drink of alcohol. Couple months, maybe? Possibly when her sister invited her to celebrate the opening of Summer Fun—a plant-only boutique along Pearl Street. Not the marijuana plant but actual greenery and succulents. So far, the boutique was doing surprisingly well, and Summer had mentioned the idea of possibly adding plant-based bath products to the mix.

Starr blinked open her eyes, her gaze taking in the beautiful view. Her grandfather had gotten real lucky snagging this piece of land. The bell to the drawbridge gave off a few chimes, letting everyone know the bridge was about to come up. A few boats were lined up inside the harbor, waiting to pass.

She started off with her basic sun salutations and carried them into Warrior Pose, pausing on each movement for a minute or more. She went into a standing split with ease—the beauty of owning her own yoga studio was the love of the job and the countless hours of practice.

The Firefly Pose was harder for her to hold, but she was definitely getting a better handle on it. With her knees slightly bent, she put her right arm between her legs and placed her right shoulder behind her right knee, did the same with her left leg, and slowly lowered her legs onto her upper arms. She took a deep breath and lifted her feet off the mat, pointing her toes to the sky.

She counted to forty-five and lowered herself to the mat. Lastly, she bent down into her favorite pose. Downward-Facing Dog. The muscles in her thighs stretched taut, and her back expanded enough to stretch out any compressed bones from her flight. She wriggled her neck side to side, taking in a few deep breaths.

The sound of running along the wooden slats of the marina pulled her attention. The slats rattled and shook as the person got closer. Not breaking her pose, she turned to see what was coming toward her. A man.

---