Page 8 of The House on Firefly Beach
Sydney took the serving bowl of potato casserole over to the table and sat down with the rest of the family, her mother following with a platter of eggs.
“So what’s everyone else doing today?” Ben asked, grabbing a few pieces of bacon from one of the dishes with the serving tongs and placing them on his plate before passing the dish to Hallie.
“I’m starting my new job today,” Sydney said, buttering a biscuit. Sydney had been hired to write a small column for a section in a national magazine calledYouwhere she answered letters that were sent in. “I’ve chosen my first week’s letters,” she said. “I’m hoping the writing might get my creative juices flowing again.” It wasn’t the job of her dreams or anything, but it was a step toward her goal of getting into the business of content writing. “And I’m seeing Mary Alice for lunch. She says she has a favor to ask.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Jacqueline said. “I haven’t seen Mary Alice in so long. Remember when you two used to do that lemonade stand together?”
“I do,” Sydney said, remembering her friend.
Uncle Hank beamed at her. “You’re going to be writing again?”
“Well, writing letters, yes, but it’s a start.”
“It certainly is,” Uncle Hank said, clearly delighted.
Growing up, Sydney had wanted to write about world events, interviewing people and bringing light to humanitarian issues, dreaming of traveling to faraway lands and documenting all the splendor of the human race. Once she got in to college, her interests widened to more social topics, but her love of writing never left her. She’d consumed entire days climbing shelves in the local library and gathering all her information to help her understand culture and history, and then she’d meet Nate, spending evenings after he’d gotten off at the beachside bar and grill where he worked on his summer break from college, both of them scribbling in their notebooks for hours—Sydney writing her articles and Nate writing songs.
Nate had written her more love songs than she could count over the four years they were together; she’d cherished every one of them. Her favorite moments were the ones when he’d drop his pencil, roll onto his back and play with melodies, humming the words to different tunes. Then he’d turn back over and scratch down a few more notes. During creative lulls, he always wanted to read her pieces. He said it recharged him. He’d been so supportive of her writing, telling her that she was going to do great things one day, and to remember him when she shot up so high that she’d have to look down to see everyone. Funny how ironic life could be sometimes.
She’d heard some of those songs on the radio, but every time one came on, she turned it off as fast as she could. She didn’t want Nathan Carr’s version of them to taint those precious moments they’d had together.
“Local Firefly Beach residents are going to face the largest summer crowd on record for this small village…” the television said, pulling everyone’s attention over to it. “The current public beach area downtown,” the reporter continued, “is the busiest location in all of Firefly Beach. From May until September…” The video footage showed the steady stream of people as they filtered through the access point to the shoreline, leaving bottles of sun lotion, trash, and swim gear in their wake to litter the coast. “And it’s getting worse,” the reporter said. “Local contractor Colin Ferguson, builder of the new beachfront hotel Luxury in the neighboring village of White Sands, is hoping for the opportunity to build on Firefly Beach’s unspoiled shores, which will send even more people to the village as they look for uncrowded beaches.”
Jacqueline clicked off the TV.
Uncle Hank picked up his cup of coffee but didn’t drink it. “Lewis and I will be attending the town meeting today to show our support for maintaining our coastline,” he said, filling the quiet that had settled over the table.
With the wedding and everything on her mind, Sydney had totally forgotten about the potential problem facing Starlight Cottage. Some people on the town’s board of supervisors wanted to lessen the foot traffic downtown, so they had proposed a public beach access down the road from Starlight Cottage. “What’s the latest?”
“They’re still pushing the public beach access that would run along the lots right next to Starlight Cottage, and the most recent development is the additional plan for expansive parking and retail. That’s where Colin Ferguson is getting involved.”
“From what I’ve heard, the shops are supposed to stretch the length of road between the old Henderson lot and us,” Jacqueline said. “I’ll be very interested in hearing the specifics after you attend the meeting today,” she said to Uncle Hank.
With the growth of tourism in the surrounding villages, the number of visitors finding their way to Firefly Beach had increased, and it was only a matter of time before the town would be facing the same summer gridlock that its neighbors were already dealing with.
It had taken two crews to maintain the cleanliness and quality of the public beach last summer, so to alleviate the growing congestion, the local government was planning to open a second access point, bulldozing all the trees and small cottages that separated Starlight Cottage from the town.
Starlight Cottage had been in the family for generations, but her great Aunt Clara and Uncle Hank Eubanks were the first to give the home a name. They’d called the cottage Starlight because of the lighthouse that sat on its own private peninsula, jutting out into the sea, behind the main building on the Eubanks’ sprawling property. For years, the lighthouse had illuminated the water over a distance of nearly twenty miles, assisting the usually dazzling stars when cloud-cover hid them. With the increased use of electronic navigational systems, it wasn’t a working lighthouse anymore, but Aunt Clara had always maintained it, and on Christmas, she lit it. She said that, on that night in particular, she wanted just one more opportunity to get sailors home to their families where they belonged.
Earlier this year, Sydney and Hallie had organized the revitalization of the lighthouse along with the surrounding structures—everything had been painted a bright white, the gazebo widened, landscaping along the seashell paths leading to the shore, boat docks, spacious patios out back... It was completely restored to the way it had been when Aunt Clara was alive—a little oasis, secluded just enough to make Sydney feel like she could escape the stress of real life for a while. But if the planning commission had anything to do with it, things wouldn’t stay that way for long. As a girl, Sydney used to take in the sweeping coastal views from the top of the lighthouse, but now there was a possibility that she could be looking down at a mass of out-of-town cars instead of the palm trees and little southern cottages that she loved so much.
“There’s no way that plan will ever get off the ground,” she said. “The city would have to knock down all the houses between us and the corner lot. I can’t imagine that the neighbors would give up their land,” she added, holding out hope.
“Well,” Lewis piped up. “Yesterday, I ran into Tom McCoy from down the road, and he told me hewouldsell if they made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. The growth in the area recently is what made him finally decide he’d let it go. He wants to move down the coast. The sale of his land could give him enough to retire.”
A wave of uncertainty washed over Sydney. “Then he wouldn’t be running the fruit stand anymore…” she considered aloud.
The McCoy fruit stand was anything but a simple stand. It was an enormous expanse that stretched the side of the McCoy home and across part of the front lawn. Tom hosted hayrides and face painting for the kids; he offered free dog biscuits for pets of anyone stopping by, and he always managed to have the sweetest peaches in Firefly Beach. On walks between their houses, Sydney and Nate would always stop there. Since they were kids back then, Tom would give them each a peach free of charge every time.
“When are you gonna let us pay?” Nate would tease him.
“When you bring your kids here,” Tom told him.
If only they’d all known how things would turn out…
“Will you tell me anything new you find out today?” Sydney asked Uncle Hank and Lewis, not bothering to hide her concern.
“You know I will,” Uncle Hank replied.
