A Walk Along the Beach

by Debbie Macomber

  Summer 2020

  Dear Friends,

  If you read the dedication, you might not recognize the name. My friend Roberta Stalberg, who wrote under the pseudonym of Christina Skye, died of cancer in May 2018. She was my best friend and I miss her every single day. I’ve come to hate the word cancer. It’s robbed us of too many of those we love.

  After Roberta died, I decided I needed a break from writing. I told my agent and editor I was taking a year off. Her loss devastated me. As the weeks progressed, I thought perhaps the best way I could remember my friend wasn’t to stop writing but instead to do the opposite. I decided to write this book in her memory.

  A huge note of appreciation belongs to Michael Hanson, who willingly guided me with his own experiences and adventures as a freelance photographer. Another debt goes to Ron and Katie Robertson, who shared the journey of their daughter Karina and her battle against cancer. Katie’s book, Anchored, written after Karina’s death, deeply touched my heart.

  I hope you enjoy this story with the familiar characters from Cottage by the Sea in the small town of Oceanside. It is exactly the kind of place Roberta and I would have gone to plot and knit and laugh ourselves silly. My hope for each of you is that, in your own life, you will find a friend as wonderful as the one I had in her.

  Warmly,

  P.S. You can always reach me via my web page, Debbiemacomber.com, or by writing me at P.O. Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366.

  A Walk Along the Beach is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Debbie Macomber

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  BALLANTINE and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Hardback ISBN 9780399181368

  Ebook ISBN 9780399181375

  randomhousebooks.com

  Book design by Dana Leigh Blanchette, adapted for ebook

  Cover design: Belina Huey

  Cover illustration: Alan Ayers

  ep_prh_5.5.0_c0_r0

  Contents

  Cover

  Author's Note

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1: Willa

  Chapter 2: Willa

  Chapter 3: Sean

  Chapter 4: Willa

  Chapter 5: Willa

  Chapter 6: Sean

  Chapter 7: Willa

  Chapter 8: Willa

  Chapter 9: Willa

  Chapter 10: Sean

  Chapter 11: Willa

  Chapter 12: Sean

  Chapter 13: Willa

  Chapter 14: Willa

  Chapter 15: Willa

  Chapter 16: Willa

  Chapter 17: Sean

  Chapter 18: Willa

  Chapter 19: Willa

  Chapter 20: Willa

  Chapter 21: Sean

  Chapter 22: Willa

  Chapter 23: Willa

  Chapter 24: Sean

  Chapter 25: Willa

  Chapter 26: Willa

  Chapter 27: Willa

  Chapter 28: Sean

  Chapter 29: Willa

  Chapter 30: Willa

  Chapter 31: Sean

  Chapter 32: Willa

  Chapter 33: Willa

  Chapter 34: Willa

  Chapter 35: Willa

  Dedication

  Ballantine Books from Debbie Macomber

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Willa

  “He’s cute.” My sister Harper stage-whispered when I joined her at the table in Bean There, my small coffee shop in Oceanside along the Washington coast. I knew exactly who she was talking about and refused to look. I really shouldn’t pay him any mind. I shouldn’t look. Shouldn’t look.

  I looked.

  “Who?” I asked, doing my best to hide my interest. I’d noticed the tall, lean man with sandy-colored hair who stood at the counter with regularity. My sister was right. He was cute. Not the drop-dead gorgeous of a cover model, though. His appeal was subtle, understated. His hair fell haphazardly across his forehead and his blue eyes were warm. Some days they were a deeper shade than others, depending on what he wore. He had a small cleft in his chin with a single dimple on the right side of his cheek. I knew his first name was Sean for the simple reason I’d written his name across the cup. He’d corrected me the first time he ordered when I spelled it S-h-a-w-n and explained it was spelled with an e.

  “Don’t be coy, Willa. You know exactly who I mean. That man is gorgeous. Admit it.”

  Shrugging, I acted disinterested. “If you say so.”

  “Does he stop by often?” Harper leaned forward, as if to get a better look.

  My sister was an outrageous flirt. She always had been, although her relationships never seemed to last more than a few weeks. She was the outgoing one in the family, while I was the introvert, the shy, retiring one. Harper taught yoga and fitness classes at the Oceanside Fitness Center two blocks over from my coffee shop. She was their most popular instructor, and with good reason. Everything was fun with Harper, even exercise, and that was saying something.

  “What’s his name?” she pressed, unwilling to drop the subject.

  Normally I would suggest she introduce herself, and she would make sure she did. For my own selfish reasons, I didn’t. I knew that within minutes they would likely be involved in a friendly conversation. That was Harper. She was blond, beautiful, physically fit, and the kind of friend everyone hopes to find. It rarely took more than the fluttering of her stunning blue eyes for a man to be captivated and fall under her spell.

  “Sean,” I answered, and immediately felt guilty. It wasn’t like I had a claim on him or that he’d be interested in me. We’d shared only a few brief exchanges. His smile was warm and engaging. I hesitated for more reason than my own interest. I knew if Harper went for him the relationship wouldn’t last. None ever did with her, and I didn’t want to see him hurt. He seemed the sensitive type. Oh heavens, what did I know? I was being ridiculous.

  “Sean.” Harper slowly repeated his name. “Like Sean Connery?”

  “You should introduce yourself,” I suggested, swallowing back my reluctance. I was being self-seeking and judgmental.

  Harper’s lovely face broke into a huge smile and she shook her head. “Not happening.”

  “Why not?”

  “This one is for you, Willa,” she said with a playful wink.

  I opened my mouth to protest and the words stumbled over the end of my tongue, twisting around in my head before I could admit or deny my interest.

  “Excuse me,” Sean said, speaking to Alice, the high school girl I had recently hired. “I believe this is a macchiato instead of an Americano.”

  Alice glanced nervously toward me. As a new hire, she worried about making mistakes. “I thought…I heard you say you wanted a macchiato.”

  “Go,” Harper urged, nudging me with her elbow. “You don’t want a dissatisfied customer.”

  Scooting back my chair, I walked to the front of the shop. “It’s all right, Alice,” I
told the teenager. I probably shouldn’t have left her alone at the counter, as this was only her third day on the job.

  Looking to Sean, I avoided eye contact for fear he’d overhead my conversation with my sister. “I apologize for the mistake. Do you want your usual Americano with room for cream?”

  “Please.”

  “I made fresh cinnamon rolls this morning. Would you like one? It’s on the house.” I worked hard to keep my customers happy.

  He glanced at the display case, considered the offer for a few seconds, and then reluctantly shook his head. “Not today. Perhaps another time.”

  “Sure thing,” I said as I went about preparing his drink. As soon as I finished, I handed him the cup.

  Sean added the cream, adjusted the lid, and then started for the door when Harper stopped him. “Hi,” she said, beaming him a smile that was guaranteed to charm Scrooge. “Do you have time to join my sister and me?”

  Walking three paces behind Sean, I frantically waved my hands at Harper, silently demanding that she stop. I knew what she was doing, and I wanted no part of her playing matchmaker between Sean and me.

  “I’m sure Sean has better things to do,” I said quickly. “Besides, I should get back to work.”

  Sean hesitated and looked over his shoulder at me. “I’d be happy to join you, if you don’t mind.”

  “Willa doesn’t mind. And, there’s no one in line,” Harper said, and gestured for Sean to take a seat.

  I hesitated and scowled at my sister, a look that she ignored.

  “Sit down, Willa,” Harper insisted.

  As if unsure what to do, Sean remained standing with a look akin to a deer caught in headlights. I hated that Harper had put him on the spot.

  Carefully watching me, Sean pulled out a chair and joined us at the table.

  Harper shot me a look that said I should make my move.

  Yeah, right. My little sister had yet to realize I had no moves. Our mother died of a brain aneurysm when I was thirteen and in junior high, so I’d completely missed out on those carefree teen years. As best I could, I’d taken over the duties at home, cooking and cleaning for our older brother, Lucas, Harper, and my dad. As soon as Lucas had graduated from high school, he’d joined the Army. In the years that followed losing Mom, our dad had slowly fallen apart, sinking his woes in the bottom of a whiskey bottle. After Harper’s bout with cancer, he’d gone to AA and was mostly sober these days, although he had occasional slips. He lived in a trailer park and worked as a dealer at a tribal casino just outside of town.

  After Sean joined us, silence circled the table. Harper glared at me, waiting for me to lead the conversation.

  I couldn’t. My mouth went dry and I stared down at my cooling coffee as if it held the answer to world peace. Rarely had I felt more awkward. Harper was a natural when it came to drawing people out. She, more than anyone else, should recognize how uncomfortable this situation made me. I couldn’t begin to imagine what she hoped this would accomplish. Already I could feel the heat warming my cheeks.

  “So, Sean,” Harper said, dragging out the sentence. “You must be new in town? I don’t remember seeing you around.”

  He stretched his arms out in front of him and held his coffee with both hands. He, too, seemed keenly interested in its contents. “I’ve been living in Oceanside about a year now.”

  “That long?” I asked, surprised. He’d come in for coffee a time or two a few months back, but then I hadn’t seen him again until just recently. For the last week, not that I was counting or anything, he’d been in every morning. He always ordered an Americano, and every so often took a bakery item to go. Generally, he stopped by around ten, after the morning rush.

  “I bought a place about a mile outside of town, off Harvest Road.”

  “The Andrews house,” Harper said knowingly.

  The Andrewses were good people and their home was beautiful. I’d gone to school with their youngest daughter, Lenni, although we were never good friends. Because I was involved in caring for our family, I was unable to participate in a lot of school activities. Lenni was a class officer and a cheerleader. We didn’t exactly run with the same crowd.

  “Funny I haven’t seen you around before and now you’re here,” Harper continued with enthusiasm, as if meeting him was predestined. She continued to send me encouraging looks, apparently in hopes I would pick up her line of questioning, learn all I could about him.

  Sean’s gaze bounced back to me. “I travel quite a bit for work.”

  “How does your wife feel about that?”

  I kicked my sister under the table at her blatant attempt to find out his marital status. She couldn’t be any more obvious had she tried.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not married.”

  “Really? Neither is Willa.”

  I nearly groaned aloud from embarrassment. “Sean,” I said, taking up the conversation, “I apologize for my sister, I…”

  His knowing smile stopped me. “It’s fine, Willa.”

  “You say you travel,” Harper continued, ignoring my censure. “What do you do?”

  “Photography.”

  “Really?” That spiked Harper’s interest, and she straightened in her chair.

  “I’ve always liked the name Willa,” he said, in an abrupt change of subject, cutting Harper off before she had a chance to drill him about his career. It was clear to me, if not my sister, that Sean preferred not to talk about his work.

  “My mother had an aunt named Willa,” he continued. “You rarely hear that name these days.”

  Again, it was Harper who answered. “Willa was named after Willa Cather, who was one of our mother’s favorite authors.”

  “And Harper then for Harper Lee?” Sean asked, making brief eye contact with her.

  Harper grinned. “Yup, and our older brother is Lucas. He isn’t named after anyone. From what we understand, Mom and Dad made an agreement before they married. Dad got to name the boys and Mom got to name us girls.”

  “How long have you had Bean There?” he asked, looking to me.

  “Almost six years now.” I had a small inheritance from our grandparents that had originally been set aside for college. I’d attended the community college in Aberdeen, daily driving the twenty-three miles each way. I’d taken every business class available and used the rest of the money to buy equipment and set up shop. It hadn’t been easy those first couple of years, but now Bean There had a faithful clientele. I did a brisk business, especially in the mornings. I took my coffee seriously and baked nearly everything myself. That meant a lot of early mornings, not that I minded. I loved what I did, and it provided enough income for Harper and me to share an apartment without worrying about how we would pay the rent.

  Seth Keaton walked in and glanced my way before he stepped to the counter. Alice was in the back, collecting cookies from the dough I’d made earlier that morning. I welcomed the opportunity to escape this uncomfortable situation.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” I said, grabbing hold of my coffee mug as I stood.

  “Back to the grind,” Harper teased, “pun intended.”

  Sean grinned. “I need to get back to work myself. Thanks for the conversation,” he said, looking at me.

  “Ah…sure.”

  Relieved, I headed to the counter and Keaton. His first name was Seth, but no one called him that. His size was something to behold. He must have been close to seven feet tall, and his shoulders were massive. He worked as a house painter, but he was far more talented than most folks gave him credit for. It was a surprise to learn Keaton was the one who’d painted the murals in town. He was married to the local doctor, Annie Keaton, who headed up the health clinic in Oceanside.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked.

  “Give me a vanilla latte. Sixteen ounces. Make it extra-hot.”

 
“For Dr. Annie?”

  He nodded. “She didn’t have time for breakfast this morning and I’m guessing her blood sugar is low right about now.”

  “You got it.” I recognized the order. Keaton wasn’t a latte kind of man. He liked a double shot of espresso and baked goods. Especially my Danish, but he was equally fond of my cinnamon rolls.

  Business slowed until lunchtime. My sandwiches made with homemade bread were a popular item. With only a few tables available, most of my business was takeout. I’d recently expanded our luncheon menu, and sales were picking up.

  When business slowed again in midafternoon, I took a break and went for a short walk along the beach. I tried to do that as often as time afforded. With a hectic work schedule, I needed to breathe in the fresh air and center myself. The seagulls squawked as they soared overhead, carried by the wind. Although it was only mid-June, the sunshine shone down on me, relaxing the tense muscles of my shoulders, easing my worries.

  The ocean had always been my solace. The sound of the waves as they crashed against the shore reverberated in my head, offering me a peaceful contentment. I once heard it explained that being near the ocean, with the surf and the swirling waters, was like being tucked inside a mother’s womb. I wasn’t sure if that was scientific or not, but in some ways, it made sense. The rhythm of the tides, the predictability of it all, offers reassurance and a certain sense of security.

  I’d badly needed that, especially when Harper had been deathly ill. The long months of fighting cancer had taken a toll on my sister. On all of us. I thanked God every day that she’d survived. Still, the threat that the leukemia might return hung over our heads like a dark, threatening storm cloud.