Page 3 of Coral Memories

“All letters were once handwritten,” Ginger said with a smile of amusement. She took the letter and instantly recognized the sender’s name.

“Who is Oliver Powell?” Kai asked, leaning over her shoulder.

Marina shot her an annoyed look. “Give her some privacy.”

“What, like it’s her boyfriend?”

Ginger chuckled at the thought. “No, darlings. Kurt Powell was my first boss. Oliver was his younger brother whom I met years later when Bertrand and I visited New York. He was closer to my age. Quite a charmer in his day.”

“So, open it,” Kai said, handing her a brass letter opener from her desk.

Ginger stared at the letter, dreading the contents. Kurt and Bertrand were old schoolmates. He would be in his ninth decade now. She sliced the envelope and removed the letter.

Dearest Ginger, I write this with a heavy heart. My dear brother Kurt has moved on from this realm.

She nodded sadly. “As I expected,” she said, folding the letter to read later.

“He says they’re having a celebration of life ceremony in Laguna Beach,” Kai said. “Isn’t that like a party?”

“It’s a celebration of one’s life,” Ginger replied. “Would you put that on my nightstand?”

Kai unfolded the letter. “He’s invited you, so you should go.”

“Don’t be so nosy,” Marina said.

“I’m only reading the interesting parts.” Kai brightened. “If you don’t want to go alone, I’ll go with you.”

“There will likely be many old friends there,” Ginger said. It wouldn’t be the same without Bertrand, though. Why, the fun they’d once had.Oliver Powell.She smiled, recalling how they used to go out with him and his wife.

Marina shot her sister another look. “Come sit with us. Ginger has some old family photos for us to see. Someday, you’ll be showing these to your little one.”

“If she ever arrives.” Kai plopped down on the other side of her grandmother.

Ginger turned the page. Jack had been angling to write her story since they’d met. While she intended to share everything with him, a question nagged at her.

Was it time to write her life story, or did she have adventures yet to live?

1

Marina peered through the door to the sunroom in their beach cottage. Jack sat in front of a large-screen computer with headphones clamped over his ears. She inched closer, curious what he was working on, though trying not to be intrusive.

Her husband didn’t like to share his work until he was ready. He’d once told her,No one wants to see a writer’s first draft.She could understand that.

She made out her grandmother’s name on the screen. Suddenly, the sun slid from behind a cloud, casting her shadow over the monitor’s screen.

“What the—” Jack jerked off his headphones and whirled around, his thick, unruly hair sticking up. He exhaled in relief when he saw her. “I thought you’d left.”

“Forgot my phone. I’m sorry I crept up on you.” Given his former career as a reporter who frequently worked on explosive stories, he could still be on edge. “Is that a new book?”

Letting out a sigh of relief, he waved to the screen. “I’m making notes about things Ginger says before I forget. She had a couple of zingers the other day.”

She smoothed a hand over his shoulder. “We call those Gingerisms. They’re unique.”

“I’ve been trying to piece together a narrative, but her memory shifts.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with concern. “Do you think she might be…”

“Growing senile?” Marina smiled and shook her head at her grandmother’s harmless deceptions. “Her recollections have been changing for decades. My sisters thought she was embellishing stories and simply forgot how she’d told them before. But I don’t think that was it. She has nearly total recall of anything important. Or trivial.”

Jack pulled her onto his lap and nuzzled her neck. “Then why the variation in her recollections?”

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