Page 3 of The Magic of Sea Glass
The man followed. “I’m Brody Harrison, by the way.”
She didn’t want to have to introduce herself for fear that her emotions would bubble up or that he’d finally recognize her from TV and ask her a ton of questions. But maybe she’d get lucky and he wouldn’t connect the dots. With those tanned biceps and pectoral muscles showing through his T-shirt, he didn’t seem like the type of guy who spent long hours in front of the TV watching wedding programs.
“Lauren Sutton,” she said cautiously, carrying her bag of groceries toward the door.
Brody trailed her into the blinding sunshine, tourists moving past them, holding surfboards and beach bags as they walked along the sandy wooden sidewalk. “You new around here or just visiting?”
She tried not to draw any further attention to herself, tipping her head down as she kept walking. “Both. Kind of.”
“What does that mean? You here for the rest of the summer or something?”
A pinch of anxiety took hold when he guessed correctly.
In her search for sunny destinations, she’d stumbled upon an ad for a seasonal assistant to an innkeeper and, in an act of complete spontaneity, applied. She didn’t need the job, but would probably go crazy with all the free time if she just took off for the beach.
To her shock, she’d gotten an immediate response with an offer of work for the next six weeks and accepted the position. She decided that the purpose of this trip was to disappear and spend the last slip of summer away from everyone she knew, figuring out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
The corners of Brody’s lips turned upward as those blue eyes locked with hers. “It wasn’t meant to be a trick question.”
“Yes, I’m here until the end of the summer,” she replied before hurrying off.
“I’ll have to introduce you to Stephanie if we meet again,” he called.
But she barely heard him, jumping into her BMW and starting the engine.
* * *
Way out of town, down a deserted one-lane road, Lauren pulled her car past the old wooden sign that read in swirling letters “The Tide and Swallow Inn” and came to a halt in the weedy parking lot outside the towering shingled structure on stilts. The paint on the front porch was peeling, and the beds of plants were overgrown, but even with its massive size and dilapidated exterior, it still held on to a certain appeal that could only be found on the coast. She got out and stopped in her tracks when she spied the bubbling current rushing right up to the back of the inn and then retreating to the Atlantic.
“My goodness. The whole place is gonna wash away,” she said under her breath.
“It’s the rising tide,” an older woman with a big smile and a head of gray hair tucked behind her ears said as she limped over, her unsteady steps assisted by a cane that appeared to be made of lacquered driftwood. “By about seven o’clock tonight, it’ll completely cover the sand. But it won’t hurt anything. At least not for a few more years.” The woman made her way over to her. “I’m Mary Everett.”
Surprised and slightly mortified that the woman had overheard her comment, Lauren looked out at the sparkling water. That was not really the way she’d wanted to greet her new boss.
“Lauren Sutton. I’m here for the assistant’s job.” She reached out in greeting.
Mary shifted her cane and shook Lauren’s hand. “I’m delighted to have your help.”
Lauren gave her that fabricated smile that she’d perfected over the last twelve months.
“It’s getting tougher and tougher to manage every day, all by myself, with my arthritis.” Mary patted her hip. “So I thought I might try having an assistant to see how it goes. I just couldn’t find the right person, so the position’s been empty all summer.”
“I’m excited to be here.” Lauren popped the trunk and began unloading her suitcases. She tugged on the heaviest one, barely lifting it over the lip of the car, letting it thump onto the pavement. “I’ve never visited the Outer Banks before.”
“I do hope you’ll have a good time here at the inn.”
“I’m going to try,” she said, not really sure if any location in the world could help her figure out her life.
Mary eyed the pile of suitcases. “I have a dolly we can use for your bags.”
“Oh great. If you’ll show me where you keep it, I can get it,” Lauren said, not wanting to make the poor woman hobble all the way to wherever it was.
“It’s up there.” Mary waggled an unsteady finger toward the house. “Around the corner, on the porch.”
“All right.”
“You can wheel it down the ramp there on the side and when you come back up, head into the main house through those front doors. I’ll pour us some lemonade, and I need to see Joe before he leaves.”
