Page 43 of The House on Firefly Beach
His shoulders rounded. “I’m an old man, Sydney. I mean no disrespect, but I’m living in a world where kids are running my life, and sitting in a room with the little girl who used to sell lemonade with you on the corner isn’t going to help me.” He blew air through his lips. “I’ll be fine,” he said, but she didn’t believe him.
Sydney stood up in front of him, wishing she could hear Aunt Clara’s voice to soothe them both. “Uncle Hank, you’re the wisest person I know. If I were battling with something big, what would you tell me?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head.
“Yes you do. You’ve never just let us flounder when we have problems. You’ve gotten me through every single one.”
He leaned on the railing, his arms stretched out, his fingers gripping the whitewashed wood. “I’d tell you to follow your heart, not your head. But that’s just it: my heart is somewhere unreachable at the moment.”
“So what does your heart say about Starlight Cottage?” she asked.
He dragged his finger affectionately along the railing. “It aches to keep it the same. For Clara. And for me.”
“Then let’s do everything we can to make that happen. I’ll go with you to the meeting Friday.” She took Uncle Hank’s hand. “We can do this.” A seed of resolution stirred inside her, and no matter what, she’d fight for Starlight Cottage until the end.
Chapter Fifteen
Sydney’s phone lit up with a text as it sat on the table beside her computer while she tinkered around with the cover design for the wellness center. It was Malory.
Coffee?
With everything going on, Sydney had forgotten that she’d mentioned getting coffee with Malory at her party. She’d been busy working the rest of the day while Robby was at his friend’s house, and she’d emailedNY Pulsemagazine to give them days and times when she’d be available to discuss the content editor position.
With a couple hours before Robby’s football meeting, Sydney decided it would be nice to spend some time with her friend. It was such a gorgeous evening that she decided it would be a perfect night to walk, so she texted Malory that she’d meet her at Cup of Sunshine in fifteen minutes if she was up to it.
Malory texted back:
Absolutely! Sliding on my flip-flops right now…
Sydney shut down her laptop and scribbled a quick note to her mom, letting her know where she was headed. Then she slipped on her sandals, grabbed her handbag and sunglasses, and headed out the door, deciding to take the shortcut past the lighthouse, down the beach, and along the coast.
The sea air wrapped around her like a warm hug, blowing her long hair behind her shoulders, and caressing her skin. Sydney walked through the yard toward the tree-laden area where she and Nate used to write in the shade of the palms. She ran her fingers down the spiny bark of a palm tree, remembering all the times she’d sat on a blanket under it, her notebooks spread out around her…
She walked farther in, along the old path the people who lived on these lots had carved out to allow them to pass through until they reached the next clearing. She hadn’t been down this path in years. The sun shined through the trees, casting long rays through their leaves, blinding her and then relenting as she walked along. Then suddenly, something caught her eye, making her gasp. A rusted thumbtack jutted out from one of the trees, a tiny torn piece of paper still speared into the bark. She touched it, remembering the notes she’d put up for Nate to give him inspiration. As she ran her hand over the remnant of it, barely even a visible piece of it left, she closed her eyes, hoping to hear Nate’s voice calling her. Would he walk up behind her and pull her back to that time in her life when everything seemed to be perfect? She kept her eyes closed and waited, the shushing of the gulf mocking the silence.
She opened her eyes and started walking again. Every tree, every bend in the path ahead of her was like a graveyard for her memories, each one preserved in that space, lingering there and calling out to her to remember. She fought the swell of fear at the thought that all this would be a parking lot soon. Her memories bulldozed without a single thought. Suddenly, she wanted to run back to Starlight Cottage and plead with Uncle Hank not to sell.
When she finally emerged onto the main street in town, she surveyed the intersection. It was lined with tourists, the shop doors clogged with people, the stoplights congested and all the area picnic tables brimming, people spilling out of the outdoor dining areas onto the sidewalk, stopping foot traffic. She maneuvered around passers-by and made her way to Cup of Sunshine, plunging herself into the air-conditioned interior.
Malory waved from a table she’d saved for them.
“This is crazy,” Sydney said, squeezing herself into a chair. “It’s not even the weekend.”
“It doesn’t matter when it’s late afternoon, in-season. All the vacationers are here for the whole week and they probably don’t even know what day it is. On Sundays, I can hardly get in and out of the village with all the traffic leaving their rentals. It’s a nightmare.” She scooted a cup of iced coffee toward Sydney. “I got you an iced caramel latte.”
“How did you guess my favorite?” she asked.
“Nate suggested it when I said we were getting coffee together.” She offered a cautious smile. “He said, ‘When in doubt, go sweet.’”
Sydney chuckled. “He always did know what I like.” She took a sip, and settled in to the space between the two of them.
“How do you like being back?” Malory asked her.
“It’s where I belong,” she said. “The longer I stay here, the more I realize how much I need the sea air and the open spaces.”
They both looked around at the coffee line that was nearly out the door, the trail of sand coming in on all their feet, the beach bags—full to the brim—bumping into people. “Open spaces,” Malory said, and they both laughed.
Then a man in line caught her eye and raised his hand, his smile very familiar. She realized it was Logan, from the wedding. She smiled at him.
