Page 4 of A Breeze Over Rosewood Beach
Sally shook her head, chuckling. “I can’t keep up with all this new slang. Did we have so many silly words and phrases when we were that age?”
“Oh, I’m sure we did.” Vivian popped her final piece of pie into her mouth, shaking her head with a smile.
Sally and Vivian continued to laugh and chat for a while. The afternoon sun had cast new patterns across the floor by the time Vivian finally stood up to go.
“See you for dinner night?” Vivian asked, giving her friend a warm hug.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Sally assured her. “I’m looking forward to seeing Julia and Cooper again.”
She waved to Vivian as her friend slipped out the front door. She watched as Vivian pulled her hat down lower on her head and tightened the wrap of her scarf.
Looks like it’s cold outside,she thought.
She smiled, reflecting that although the outdoor weather might have been chilly, her heart was warm. The conversation and camaraderie that she’d shared with Vivian that afternoon had made her feel worlds better, and it had completely chased her melancholy away. She felt a surge of gratitude that the Owens family had become such an integral part of her life.
What I thought to myself before wasn’t true,she thought, turning around and heading toward the kitchen in case her employees needed anything.I’m not alone anymore. Now I have a wonderful community to keep me company.
With a happy smile, she stepped inside the kitchen, ready to take care of everything her café needed.
CHAPTER TWO
Oscar Jennings set down the cardboard box he’d been holding with a huff.
I’m getting too old for this, he thought grumpily, wiping sweat from his forehead. He glanced up at his New York townhouse and felt a pang of sadness.I’m too old for all of this.
He looked behind him at the sidewalk. That was the last of the boxes. All of the furniture that he was keeping was already in the trailer. All that was left in his house was his suitcase full of clothes and toiletries and a couple of books, waiting for him just inside the front door.
“That’s it?” The man from the moving company walked around from the front of the truck, where he’d been answering a phone call.
“That’s it,” Oscar said, feeling both relieved and struck with disappointment. He didn’t feel ready to move away from his house, which he’d lived in for many years.
“Perfect. The company will be in touch. Safe travels, Mr. Jennings.”
“You as well,” Oscar said, although he thought to himself that a truck driver drove long distances all the time, so it wasn’t as if the trip would be anything special to him.
To Oscar, it felt like setting out toward the jungle.
He’d spent decades living in New York, working as a stock trader. He’d been excellent at his job, and his success had become a core part of his identity. Now, however, it felt as though his identity had crumbled at his feet. It was as if the house standing in front of him wasn’t really there anymore, and instead it was a pile of rubble that he felt he was trying to crawl out from underneath.
His life had turned into a kind of nightmare, he thought darkly as he turned around and made his way up the steps to his front door. During the last few months, his success had been snuffed out like a candle. Everything had taken a turn for the worse, and along with his plummeting finances, his confidence in his abilities as a businessman had sunk into the depths as well.
He looked over his shoulder as the moving trailer began to pull slowly onto the street. Impatient New York drivers honked at the massive truck in frustration. Oscar shook his head, hoping that he saw all of his things again one day. The driver was bringing the trailer out to a storage unit many miles away. Eventually, Oscar would have his belongings shipped to him. For now, he had nowhere to live.
Well, he had plans to put a roof over his head. He wasn’t that destitute. But he was leaving the city for good, and leaving behind his house that he could no longer afford to live in.
He stepped inside the front door and picked up his suitcase. He almost didn’t look around the room, as if it was a sight that might burn him if he got too close, but in the end, he couldn’t help himself. He looked around the open front room slowly, his eyes tracing over the empty walls and floorboards.
Gutted,he thought.I feel gutted, just like this house.
He swallowed, never having been one for crying. Instead, he scrunched his face up into a well-practiced frown and left his home.
Once the door was shut behind him, his heart felt somewhat lighter. That, at least, was over. He slipped the key into the mailbox, not caring if anybody saw him do it. It wasn’t his house anymore. His landlord could deal with any incidents of breaking and entering. Not his problem.
He walked down the steps one last time and turned around and looked up at his home. A few seconds later, he got something in his eyes and had to blink hurriedly as he turned away.
Seasonal allergies,he thought with a grunt. He conveniently ignored the fact that he didn’t get seasonal allergies in the dead of winter.
He shook his head as he walked toward his car. He’d hung on for as long as he could, but it had been time to admit defeat. At least this way, he still had some money. It was enough to give him a place to stay for a while. He could get back on his feet in that little coastal town—what was it called?
