Page 3 of An Island Summer
She knew deep down that the real reason she’d come back was because, without her parents, she needed her grandfather right now. Over the years, Meghan had never seemed to find her way. She loved the arts, sketching, cooking, dancing—none of which she’d ever been able to figure out how to make a living off of.
When her awful boss had completely dismissed her that night, she’d sobbed in her bed and prayed that Pappy could hear her. He’d always made her feel like she was special, when the world had told her otherwise. She hoped being near him would guide her, show her what she was meant to do, because somewhere along the line she’d lost track.
Walking over to the kitchen sink, she turned on the water. It spit and sputtered before letting out a stream. She turned it back off. “How am I supposed to be a chef in the middle of nowhere?” She laughed out loud now at the ridiculousness of her choices.
If she were being honest with herself, there were many more opportunities in New York. There were a handful of culinary schools in the city nearby and she could’ve researched grants or scholarships, but she’d come to Hatteras Island instead. What was she thinking, planning to build a new life here? She went through the living room and peered out the window at the vast wilderness in front of her, Charlie racing down the beach and Tess holding her shoes, her feet in the surf.
That surf had been a joyous sight during her childhood, when she’d come every summer to visit with her mom and dad, but as the years went on it became more knowing, more comforting, as if it could speak to her.
Meghan let herself back outside. The summer heat hit her like a wet blanket, causing beads of perspiration to form on her skin, the coastal wind immediately cooling them. She picked up the toppled rocking chair and dragged it to the center of the porch, lowering herself into it, leaning her head back, and closing her eyes to avoid thinking about how the outside of the house needed repairs. She took in the unique mixture of the salty scent of the ocean and the old cedar of the house, instantly comforting her whirring mind. Wrapping her hands tightly around the arms of the chair as if it could somehow save her from drowning in her life choices, she pushed back, letting the rocking lull her.
Charlie’s bark cut through the moment and she opened her eyes. He was soaking wet and running up the dock toward the house, Tess not far behind him.
“How are you doing?” her friend asked when she’d reached Meghan.
Charlie bounded up the stairs, shaking and sending water spraying across the dilapidated wood of the porch.
“I’m okay,” Meghan replied, not wanting to bring her friend down with her own dilemmas. “We should probably get our bags into the house before they melt in the heat.”
They retrieved their luggage from the car, bringing it all in and setting each piece down on the oval braided rug in the living room as the air conditioning unit rattled loudly, working to combat the intense heat.
“Feel like you’re stepping back in time?” Meghan asked Tess, as Charlie jumped onto the sofa, sending a plume of dust into the air and making them cough. He jumped back down, sneezing.
Tess wandered around the living area, sliding one of the dated magazines toward her and putting it back before eyeing the mason jar full of fish hooks that sat on the coffee table. “It’s like 1975 in here.” She picked up the metal coaster where Pappy had always set his drink and turned it over in her hand, swirling more dust on the table.
“Maybe we should leave the bags for now,” Meghan said, already needing a mental break, “and find a clean place to eat while we make our grocery list. I’m starving.”
Tess spun around, suddenly interested. “Only if there are cocktails involved. My treat.”
Meghan smiled despite herself. “Done.”
The tiny hut of a restaurant, wrapped in blue clapboard, sat in the sand, twinkle lights on the front and the Atlantic sparkling behind it.
“I’m feeling summery already,” Tess said, as she did a little dance on the boardwalk leading to the place, beach music playing on speakers above the roar of the waves as they crashed relentlessly in a foaming spray.
Meghan allowed Tess’s energy to soak down to her bones. Meghan had known her best friend since the fifth grade, and without fail Tess could always lift her spirits. After Meghan had moved to Pappy’s, they’d kept in touch, spending all their babysitting money on stationery to send each other letters, and they called each other every chance they got.
Regardless of how great or not great her choice was to return to the Outer Banks, this move was about taking chances and living in the moment. She needed to try to relax into it and embrace all the wonderful things that Pappy had loved about this place. They took a seat under the grass roof of the porch out back—a wide space with a bar at one end and tiki torches lining the railings—and ordered a couple of cocktails. The idea of iced rum and coconut mixed with the heat and the sapphire ocean view gave her a buzz before she’d even had a sip.
“So, the house is really dusty and needs a good cleaning,” Tess said from over her menu, pushing her pink sunglasses onto her head and making eye contact. “We should probably dive in and give it a good scour when we get back, if we want somewhere to sleep.”
“Definitely,” Meghan agreed, trying not to think about having to rearrange Pappy’s things. “And the water just got turned back on, so we’ll need to run it for a while to clear out any old water in the lines.”
The waitress returned with their drinks: hurricane glasses full of frosty white liquid with a spear of pineapple and strawberries floating in the top. Then Meghan pulled a notepad and a pen from her handbag.
Tess swirled the red-and-white striped straw in her cocktail. “We’ll need cleaning supplies, so you might want to jot those down. And groceries.”
Meghan tried not to think about how much this dinner and all the supplies were going to cost her. “I say we focus on those two things tonight. That’s enough to keep us busy until the morning.” She jotted down a list of cleaning products.
When the waitress arrived to take their order, Tess tapped her menu. “I’ll have the pineapple shrimp and fried green tomatoes.”
“Perfect,” the waitress said. “And for you?”
Meghan scanned her menu quickly. “I’ll have the calamari.” She then handed it to the waitress, who sauntered off to put in their orders. Leaning over the brightly painted blue wooden table, Meghan poised her pen above the pad of paper. “What food should we get for the house?”
Tess’s gaze was fixed on something above them when suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around Meghan.
“My darling,” an elderly man said in a gentle southern accent. His scent of cotton and basil wasn’t familiar; nor was his face when he pulled back, his trembling hands still on her shoulders. “Hester…”
