Page 22 of A Line in the Sand

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“Well, if it’s any consolation, Max was at yoga again this morning, and he looked as tense as ever,” Mavis said.

“I have absolutely no interest in Max’s recreational activities.” Unless he fell out of his downward dog and landed on his smug face. Now that, Molly might find worthy of her time and attention.

“Did you hear?” Caroline grinned at the Charlie’s Angels. “Max moved into Henry’s beach house.”

Opal’s eyes lit up. “Oh, good. Maybe you two can form some sort of truce.”

Seriously?

Molly couldn’t help feeling a bit wounded. “Whose side are all of you on, exactly?”

“Yours,” they said in unison.

An awkward silence followed.

Opal was the first to break it. “We’re just wondering if sides are really necessary. If the aquarium is really struggling, Max needs you. And he’s the only member of Henry’s family who’s ever come to the island. It’s good that Max is here. Surely there’s a way for you two to work together.”

Molly bit her lip as Max’s self-righteous words whirled through her thoughts.

Clearly working together would be a mistake.

“Never going to happen,” Molly said, smiling to keep the tears at bay. She should have let the man drown when she’d had the chance. “Let’s move on to other things, shall we? Does anyone have fun plans for this weekend?”

Molly intended the question purely as a conversational detour, so she was caught off guard when all four of her friends responded with puzzled glances.

“We all do.” Opal pointed at her. “And so do you.”

Molly blinked.

“Don’t feel bad if you’ve forgotten, dear. We all have senior moments from time to time.” Ethel shot Molly a sympathetic smile. “Although you’re starting a bit young.”

“SandFest is this weekend,” Caroline said. “Did it truly slip your mind?”

It had. Molly had been so distracted by recent traumatic events that she’d forgotten all about the island’s biggest party of the year. The annual sand sculpture competition, known simply as SandFest, was always a sight to behold, from the kids’ sandcastle contest to the main event’s intricate, larger-than-life sand creations.

SandFest had been Molly’s favorite weekend of the year since its inception eight years ago. The event always kicked off early Saturday morning with a pancake breakfast at the Salty Dog pier. Even the dog beach got in on the action with a special competition for children.

By Friday afternoon, traffic would be backed up from the bridge all the way to Wilmington, over an hour away. People traveled for miles to attend SandFest.

Molly went still, and the happy little zing that had coursed through her when she’d realized SandFest was just days away settled in the pit of her stomach like a lead weight.

People come from miles away…

They did indeed. And to Molly’s great horror, those people always included her mom and dad.

Chapter 7

Things at the aquarium mildly improved on Max’s second day, but he’d take what he could get.

He even pretended to laugh along when some of the staff started referring to him as The Merminator, a ridiculous mash-up of the wordsmermaidandterminator. As nicknames went, Max didn’t exactly love it. It certainly didn’t make electricity skitter over his skin the way it did when Molly called him Wilson.

But there were worse things than being known as The Merminator, like potentially being known as the guy who’d driven the aquarium and sea turtle hospital into bankruptcy. Max definitely didn’t want to be that guy. Ever.

So he did his best to ignore the way his jaw clenched every time someone called him The Merminator and told himself he had more important things to worry about than his unflattering reputation—such as keeping the aquarium afloat. And trying to find out what exactly the sea turtle hospital was doing to protect local nesting grounds. And SandFest, whatever the heck that might be.

“SandFest,” Nate repeated for the third time, gazing at Max from behind his floppy blond curtain of surfer hair. “You know.”

Max shook his head. “No. I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you to explain it to me.”