Page 19 of A Beach House Beginning

“Tomorrow night.”

“How exciting. I bet it’s going to be wonderful to have her there.”

“Sure. It should be great.”

She thought she picked up a note of hesitation in his voice, but she didn’t have a chance to ask him about it before they reached her SUV.

She popped the cargo gate and he helped her load all their supplies into the back, including the heavy bag of puppy food.

“Thank you. I really appreciate your help.”

“My pleasure.”

He gave a smile, or as close to one as he seemed to offer. It wasn’t really much of a smile, mostly just a small lifting of his mouth, but it still made her toes tingle.

“I guess we will see you.”

“Yes. Leave the dog food by your car and I can carry it upstairs for you.”

She could manage, but it seemed ungracious to refuse. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“See you later, Addison. Bye, Theo.”

Addie waved and Theo wagged his tail with delight.

After she made sure Addie had her seat belt on, Jenna drove away, wondering how on earth she had shifted from fear to this wary fascination in such a short time.

Wes had never smoked but some nights, he really longed for a cigarette.

He knew there were guys in prison who had picked up smoking there as a way to relax and beat the boredom. He had preferred other methods. Working out, reading. Studying.

He had taken Spanish lessons in prison as well as a couple of community college history and rudimentary law classes. He also volunteered for a couple of service programs.

Anything he could do not to sit in his cell and feel sorry for himself and angry at the world.

Now he had the freedom to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Maybe that was why he felt so...restless. He still didn’t quite know what to do with that freedom.

He thought the hour run he had taken earlier might ease this edgy discontent. It hadn’t, nor had the long, pulsing, delicious shower after.

He ached for something but wasn’t sure what.

After changing channels a dozen times, picking up his book, then putting it back down, scrolling on his phone through news stories he didn’t really care about, he decided to take a ride on his bike down the coast. Maybe a little sea air on his face would calm him.

He walked down the two floors of Brambleberry House, sensing, as he sometimes did, the faint, barely perceptible smell of flowers on the stairs.

Rosa Galvez Townsend, who had rented him the apartment, had told him there were rumors that a benevolent spirit walked the halls of the house, the ghost of a longtime owner of the house, Abigail Dandridge.

She had died with no direct heirs and had left the house to two friends and tenants of hers.

She apparently had loved the house so much she had not wanted to leave.

He remembered staring in disbelief at the woman, who had given him an embarrassed sort of laugh. “You do not have to believe it. Most people don’t. But I felt like it was only fair to warn you about the rumors before you move in.”

A hint of flowers on the stairs was not exactly a convincing argument. Even if there had been a real ghost, how could he pass up a beautiful apartment in a rambling old house on the seashore? He had no problem putting up with the random scent of flowers and the occasional waft of cold air that seemed to come out of nowhere.

As he walked outside, the night smelled of lilacs and lavender, with a salty tang from the Pacific fifty yards away.

And he was not alone in the Brambleberry House gardens, he realized. Jenna stood in the grass, holding the leash of her gangly new puppy.

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