Page 4 of A Line in the Sand
He nodded at the mermaid. “I get it now. Her name is Ursula—fromThe Little Mermaid, right? Your name isn’t Ariel, is it?”
“It’s Molly,” Nibbles’s owner said before Molly herself could chime in.
Molly the mermaid.Cute. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Molly. Thanks for the rescue.”
Molly plucked Ursula from his grasp and hugged the puppy to her chest. “You’re welcome. But really, swimming isn’t allowed at the dog beach. The current is too strong out here.”
This was a dog beach. Well, that certainly explained a few things. “Noted. Although for the record, I wasn’t going for a swim. I saw something in the water—acaretta caretta.”
“A whatta whatta?” one of the older women asked.
“He means a sea turtle,” Molly said. “Specifically, a loggerhead.”
Max arched a brow.
Molly lifted her chin and tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear. Highlights the color of pink cotton candy were mixed in with her mass of blonde waves. Tiny droplets of seawater starred her eyelashes. “That’s right, I know the scientific name for a loggerhead sea turtle. I’m not a cartoon character. Don’t let the costume fool you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Max said. After all, she’d very probably saved his life.
“There are loads of loggerheads at this beach. Try not to chase any more of them out to sea. Deal?”
Max nodded. “Deal.”
Loads of loggerheads? Now shereallyhad his attention. He wanted to know more, but before he could utter another word, she scooted past him in the sort of quick, tiny steps that a mermaid tail necessitated. Ursula planted her little head on Molly’s shoulder and watched him as the little pup’s mistress carried her away.
Max stared after them until they became glittering silhouettes against the molten light of the setting sun. Then a throat cleared nearby and he turned to find every set of eyes on the dog beach, both human and canine alike, watching him with keen interest.
“Welcome to Turtle Beach.” The woman with the purple glasses flashed him a wink.
She aimed her walker toward the dunes, and the rest of the retirees followed. A white-haired man and a pug in matching Hawaiian shirts zipped past on a motorized scooter. The man waved, while the pug seemed to smile at Max with his goofy pug face.
Max just shook his head. He and his uncle were going to have a nice, long chat—sooner rather than later. Uncle Henry had some explaining to do.
Welcome to Turtle Beach, indeed.
Chapter 2
It wasn’t just the nuttiness of the dog beach encounter and Max’s near-drowning that had him rattled. Being back in Turtle Beach after so many years away somehow felt both familiar and surreal at the same time.
He climbed the steps of his uncle’s beach cottage—nowMax’soceanfront home—on shaky legs and plopped down onto a deck chair with a sigh. So far, the island was exactly the way he remembered it, from the rickety Salty Dog pier where Max had spent hours upon hours as a teenager fishing in the moonlight (catch and release, obviously) to the old-timey roller rink above the post office. Back when Max had summered on Turtle Beach, the floor of the small roller rink had been like a vinyl record album, worn with grooves from generations of summer skaters. How the place was still standing was a mystery he couldn’t begin to fathom.
Nostalgia had washed over him like a tidal wave the moment he’d crossed the bridge from the mainland and seen the familiar boardwalk and the park by the bay, lit with twinkle lights. The Turtle Beach library, the bookshop that doubled as a coffee bar, the ice cream parlor where as a kid he’d consumed his body weight in chocolate malts were all still there. Aside from fresh paint jobs, the mom-and-pop local businesses looked exactly the same, as did Turtle Beach’s modest downtown area on Seashell Drive. Max could hardly believe his eyes.
Where were the improvements his uncle had mentioned? In their phone calls over the past few months, Uncle Henry had made it sound as if Turtle Beach had been on the verge of becoming the next Outer Banks or Myrtle Beach. He’d known his uncle had been exaggerating, but the last thing Max had expected was to find the island looking like it had been lovingly preserved in a time capsule for the past twelve years.
Everything was going to be fine, though. Max hadn’t given up a perfectly good job, home, and life in Baltimore because he thought he’d be moving to a booming beach metropolis. This was about more than that. It was about something he hadn’t given much thought to in quite a while—family.
And the turtles, obviously.
Max could make a meaningful difference here. He hoped so, anyway. His uncle had assured him that he could.
He also told you that Turtle Beach had a Starbucks now. And a Krispy Kreme.
Right. So far, there wasn’t a cup of Pike Place roast or a glazed donut in sight. The only visible difference between the modern-day version of Turtle Beach and the one Max remembered was the booming canine population. Why so many dogs? They even had their own private beach.
That was definitely new. As was the mermaid.
Max yawned. With the move and the drive down from the D.C. area in a rental car, he’d barely slept a wink in the past twenty-four hours. Everything that had just happened at the beach seemed like a fever dream—one he didn’t care to repeat anytime soon. Or ever, for that matter. What Max needed most was sleep. He’d deal with his uncle, his mess of moving boxes, and the aquarium in the morning.
