Page 3 of Love At The Shore
“Thank you.” Ally giggled, and Jenna had the distinct feeling that chocolate still had a prominent place on her daughter’s summer agenda.
But right then, the beach came fully into view and goals suddenly seemed like the last thing Jenna should be worried about when so much beauty stretched out before them—the glittering blue ocean, sea oats dancing in the breeze and sand so white it made the shoreline look like an upturned bowl of sugar.
“Here it is! Are you guys excited? I’m excited!” Year after year, Jenna’s first glimpse of the coast never failed to take her breath away. “You guys, check this out. The beach looks awesome.”
Nick and Ally’s backseat bickering gave way to happy chatter as she turned the car off the highway and onto Campbell Avenue at the intersection where the beach town’s legendary welcome sign stood.Welcome to Tybee Island!Was it silly that the sight of that sign always made Jenna a little misty-eyed? Like the shore itself, the welcome sign with its giant sea turtle had been there as long as she could remember. The town’s incorporation date, 1887, was proudly displayed beneath it. Tybee had been welcoming beachcombers for more than one hundred years, and in so many ways, coming here was like stepping back in time.
Life was simpler here…more peaceful.
And a peaceful summer was precisely what Jenna needed.
“Look at the turtle,” Nick said.
Ally’s reply was the same every year. “Oh, that’s so cool.”
Jenna smiled to herself and made a mental note to take the kids on a hunt for sea turtle nests on the dunes. Tybee was a nesting ground for endangered loggerhead turtles, and the island treated breeding loggerheads with great care.
“Oh, I can’t wait.” She took a deep breath and pulled into the short drive leading up to the beach house that would be their home for the next five weeks.
What if it wasn’t as nice as it looked on the realty company’s website? She’d splurged and used a good portion of her book advance to get a house right on the water. Jenna’s first book had been an instant bestseller, allowing her to quit writing freelance articles for the Savannah Morning News. No more write-ups on local 5K fundraisers or lost dog notices. She was in the big leagues now. Sometimes this new career seemed too good to be true. Jenna just hoped that wasn’t the case with the photos of the beach cottage she’d seen online. The pictures made the house seem so charming, so inviting.
Miraculously, the beach house stood at the end of the drive, looking even more idyllic in person than it had on the screen of her laptop. It was painted pale turquoise—the exact color of beach glass—with freshly painted white trim. The big shuttered windows promised a front-row seat to a summer of fiery ocean sunrises.
It was the perfect beach bungalow. And for five weeks, it was all theirs.
Sort of, anyway. Technically, since the house was a duplex, it was onlyhalftheirs. But half of this gorgeous place was all they needed.
Jenna let out a relieved exhale. “We’re here.”
Nick and Ally piled out of the car, too excited to remember their backpacks. Jenna grabbed her purse and caught up with them before they headed up the wooden staircase leading to the duplex’s entrance. “All right you guys, let’s check it out. We’ll grab the stuff later.”
“Man, this is awesome.” Nick was the first to reach the top of the steps. He reached for the knob of the door to their half of the cottage. “This is us. Right here.”
Ally bolted past him, toward the screened-in porch of their neighbor. “Dog! We’ve got a dog! I’ve always wanted one.”
Oh, boy.
Jenna glanced over Ally’s shoulder. Sure enough, a shaggy white dog sprawled belly-up on the cushion of their neighbor’s white wicker sofa as if it was his own personal dog bed. “Not our dog, sweetie.”
“Maybe like half of him is ours?” Ally was clearly taking the whole duplex concept a bit too far.
“Can we get the top half?” Nick said.
Probably the preferable half, if they were going to share the dog. Which they most definitely werenot. “We don’t even know if he’s friendly yet.”
Thankfully, Nick was more concerned about where he’d be sleeping than dividing up a strange dog. “I call top bunk.”
Jenna was one step ahead of this argument. They’d been down this road four summers in a row. “Actually, we have two bunks.”
Ally was still determined to one-up her brother. “Then I call biggest cookie.”
Nick shook his head. “Do you ever stop thinking about food?”
“I don’t know. Maybe someday when I’m older.” Ally waved goodbye to the sleeping dog and followed Nick back to the proper half of the house so they could explore their summer home.
Jenna lingered for a moment. Her gaze shifted from the dog, all twitching paws and soft snores, to the surrounding mess. A damp wet suit was slung over a chair. The porch’s floor was littered with sandy footprints, both human and canine, and dog toys. A half-empty coffee cup and what looked like a chunk of driftwood sat in the middle of a weathered coffee table. The table itself looked like something that might have washed up on the beach during a hurricane.
She inhaled a deep, yoga-esque breath.
