Page 11 of The House on Firefly Beach
Her fingers stilled and she stared at her screen, thinking, but nothing was coming to her. What should she say to this woman that could make her feel better? Should she take the approach that this kind of thing happened sometimes and this too shall pass? Sydney tipped her head up and focused on the crystal light fixture in the ceiling, trying to think of just the right thing to say. What would it feel like if she moved away from everyone? Well, she wouldn’t. But if she did… Sydney placed her fingers on the keys but they just hovered there. None of her ideas seemed heartfelt enough.
A wave of fear washed over her. She hadn’t written in years. What if she didn’t have the ability to do what she used to do? What if she was too jaded to be that open? Sydney closed her eyes, trying to force the creative energy, but she was coming up empty. How had Aunt Clara done it? She’d been a successful designer and no matter what was going on in her life, she could just create. Almost on command. “Tell me what to do,” she said silently to her aunt, praying she’d hear her in the heavens and send some sort of magical answer down to her.
She leaned back, her eyes falling on the new drapes she’d hung and a memory of Aunt Clara came to mind, making Sydney smile. When Sydney was about fifteen, she’d gone in to the living room once when Aunt Clara was hanging a new pair of curtains. Her aunt was up on a ladder with a pencil in her mouth and a measuring tape stretched out between her fingers. “Why do you keep changing the curtains?” Sydney had asked her.
The measuring tape zipped back into its spool, and Aunt Clara took the pencil from her lips and tucked it behind her ear. “Well, darling, the first set of drapes were an idea I’d had years ago. But if you keep relying on the old ideas about what works, you may never actually let enough light in. There’s always room for change.” That had never made sense until right now.
A knock at the door pulled her attention away from the screen. She shut her computer. “Come in.”
Uncle Hank peeked into the room. “What are you doing?” he asked, curious.
“Trying to let the light in,” she said.
Uncle Hank frowned. “Isn’t it already coming in?” he asked, peering over at the window.
“The creative light,” she clarified.
“Ah,” he said, sitting on a nearby chair.
Sydney scooted over to give him more legroom.
“The elusive creativity.”
“It’s just not flowing right now,” she said, wondering again about Aunt Clara’s advice.
“Not being the artistic type, it’s difficult to know how to help you. What did you used to do to get into an imaginative mindset?”
Sydney chewed her lip. She didn’t want to say that she used to talk to Nate. He could always help her. But just as Aunt Clara had said, if you rely on the old ideas about what works, you may never let enough light in. Nate definitely didn’t let her see any light now. His star was so large that it overpowered everything in his path. No one else could even twinkle. “I can’t remember what helped me,” she lied. “Did you need me?” She set her laptop on the floor.
Uncle Hank looked around the room. “This house has grown with us,” he said. “I just assumed it would continue to do so…” He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “They only sent one of the board members to the meeting today,” he said. “And he was there simply to jot down our questions.”
“Do you think they’re listening at all?”
He shook his head. “No. Tom’s the only one who’s agreed to sell his property, although he hasn’t signed a contract yet. The others are all against the project, but I could see their interest when they heard what was being offered for their land. I don’t know how the county is getting the kind of money they’re proposing.”
“It’s not right,” she said. The image of their quiet street crowded with cars and people filing onto the beach along their side yard flashed in her mind, causing a lurch of panic. Starlight Cottage had always been Sydney’s safe place, away from the noise that life could bring. It was the place where she’d stayed in the years following Nate’s leaving, the house she’d retreated to when her marriage dissolved, where she’d spent every childhood summer, and now it was her home. The calm of this estate had been her quiet getaway from life’s stresses. She’d never have imagined that one day she might have to survive without it.
“We’ve asked for another meeting, and we want the full board there.” He pursed his lips in disapproval. “But it’s not looking good for our case. The impact on residents is small—the public beach would only affect five of us on this street, since the area isn’t built up. I’m worried the other Firefly Beach residents will be in favor of the project, or at the very least not be opposed.”
Jacqueline came in with a plate of leftover wedding cookies, setting it down on the side table next to the chair. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up,” she said. “How’s the writing going?”
“I haven’t really gotten started,” Sydney replied, the seed of fear sprouting in her gut. “I was just reading the first letter when Uncle Hank came in.”
“Are you talking about the meeting?” she asked.
“Yes,” Sydney said, the weight of the impending decision sitting heavily on her.
“There’s nothing we can do about it right now. We’ve offered up our questions and concerns, and asked for another meeting.” She grabbed a cookie. “Try not to dwell on this,” she told Sydney. “Focus on your new working adventure.”
Despite her worries about the cottage, with the support of her family, Sydney felt something moving within her, and she wondered if this would be the change she needed. It would certainly take her a while to get acclimated to a creative mindset again. But she couldn’t wait to get started.
“It’s strange without Ben and Hallie here,” Jacqueline said as she fiddled with the petals of one of the geraniums in a pot on the back porch. She’d come out to enjoy the salty evening air before starting supper, and Sydney and Robby had joined her.
Sydney settled on the porch swing they’d installed just before Hallie and Ben’s wedding. The couple had had their engagement portraits taken on it—Ben sitting with Hallie lying beside him, knees up, her head resting on his knee. They’d looked incredible. Even Sydney noticed the absence of the calm they both brought with them anywhere they went together.
“I miss Ben,” Robby said.
Sydney’s chest tightened. Ben had been with their family for years—Robby’s entire life—and he was the only man who’d ever really connected with him. With Ben starting his own family, Sydney couldn’t help but worry for Robby. When the adoption came through, Ben would be with Hallie, and where would that leave her son? Robby was too young to understand the demands of adulthood, and he was bound to feel left behind by both Christian and Ben.
