A Beach Wish

by Shelley Noble

  Noelle was up and sitting at the table staring into her coffee mug when Eve wandered into the kitchen the next morning.

  “Hey,” she said. “Coffee’s fresh.”

  Eve nodded, got another mug down from the cabinet. She had a headache from lack of sleep, from stress, from worry, and from the recognition that her world was about to change drastically and not knowing what it would do to her family.

  She sat down across from Noelle.

  “Guess you’re wondering why I’m home two days early.”

  “You’re always welcome.”

  “I didn’t get the job.”

  “I kinda figured that might be the case. What happened?”

  Noelle toyed with her mug. “I don’t know. I thought I did a great interview. They said they were impressed with my résumé. I hit it off with the HR guy. But at the end of the day, they called and said I wouldn’t need to come back for the next round.”

  “That sucks, but there are other jobs.”

  “Just not in graphic arts.”

  “Hey,” Eve said, taking her coffee and moving around to sit next to her middle daughter. “You’ve been out of school for two months. It’s not a race.”

  “I know. It’s just . . .” Her mouth twisted, and Eve gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I really liked this company.”

  Eve knew. And she knew how stupid it would be to say that everything would work out. She said it anyway.

  “I know. It’s just really disappointing. Guess I better take over some hours at the inn.”

  “Take a few days, regroup, and reorder your job search. We can spot you a few tofu burgers while you get back up to speed.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mel appeared in the doorway; her hair was a rat’s nest. She walked straight to the coffeepot without looking at either of them.

  Eve tried not to ask the question. So she formed it as a statement. “I heard you come in last night.”

  Mel shrugged and started to take her coffee out of the room.

  “Aren’t you going to say hello to your sister?”

  “Hi. Guess you didn’t get the job.”

  “Mel,” Eve began.

  “So much for your fancy college education.”

  Eve’s mouth dropped open. “Mel, what’s gotten into you? If this is what hanging out with Eli Merrick is doing to your—”

  “Why does everyone hate Eli?”

  “OMG, are we still beating that dead horse?” Noelle asked.

  Eve cringed. Whoever thought raising girls was easier than boys was living in an alternate reality.

  “You’re just jealous because you’re old.”

  “I’m twenty-four.”

  “And can’t even get a job.”

  “Okay, Mel, that’s enough. You’re not being fair, or kind.” The last thing Eve wanted to do was intervene, but you don’t kick someone when she’s down even if she is your sister and will forgive you.

  “Oh, sure, Noelle goes to college, so she’s Miss Wonderful. But what good did it do her or Harmony? She spent four years and thousands of dollars to move to California, just to teach, then marry some dude and start popping out babies. She could have done that here. Noelle can’t even get a job. At least I know what I want.”

  Noelle stood and leaned over the table. “Just shut up. You are such a bitch. And you don’t know shit. And if you think you can live around here, mooning over Eli Merrick and mooching off Mom, you should get a life.”

  “Look who’s talking. I’ve got a life. And Eli wants to marry me.”

  “No!” The word exploded from Eve’s mouth before she could stop it. “Look, honey, we all like Eli, and if you still want to get married in a year or so, that’s great. But first you need to—”

  “Get an education,” Mel said in a high-pitched voice that grated on Eve’s already stretched-thin nerves.

  “Have you been possessed?” Noelle asked in her most sarcastic voice. “Night of the whiny, entitled teenager?”

  “We’ll discuss this later,” Eve said, trying to defuse an already volatile conversation; she wasn’t feeling up to the job of mediator.

  “I’m marrying Eli,” Mel said. She glared at Eve.

  Eve smoothed her face. Took slow breaths. Willed herself to stay calm for her daughters’ sake, when her own life was about to blow up.

  “I’m just saying that marriage and education aren’t mutually exclusive.”

  “You don’t want me to get married because you never married Dad.”

  “You don’t even remember him,” Noelle broke in.

  “I would have if he hadn’t died.”

  Noelle rolled her eyes, growled in exasperation, and walked away. “He didn’t just die. He left us. He might not have planned on coming back. We’ll never know.”

  “Both of you stop it,” Eve said. “I loved your father.” She’d never gone to college because she’d loved him too well, and too often. Harmony had been born eight months after she graduated from high school. No college, no travel to foreign countries. All the plans she’d made had fallen by the wayside. She didn’t begrudge the loss; she had her girls and Walter Flannigan for a good twelve years before he left. And then he died. And Eve became a widow with three little girls and no degree.

  Hannah bought her the inn and gave her enough money to get started. Eve had run the inn and gone to night school in business management, worked like crazy to give her girls better options. And she’d be damned if she let Mel throw her chance away.

  “He was a good man. We were married in every way but a piece of paper from the courthouse. Those things weren’t so important in those days.”

  “Well, they’re important to me. And we’re getting married.”

  Eve sat back in her chair. She was just too tired to argue this morning.

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “Just shut up, Mel. Can’t you see you’re upsetting Mom?”

  “She can’t stop me.”

  And something in Eve just snapped. It wasn’t because of Mel, or Noelle, or even her long-dead husband. She pushed away from the table and stood up. “As long as you live in my house, I can.”

  “Your house? I thought it was our house.”

  “Well, now you know.” Eve whirled around, stormed out of the kitchen and out of the house.

  Mel stared after her mom. Paralyzed. She’d never seen her so angry. Her mom didn’t get angry. At least, she never yelled.

  Noelle was staring at the back door. She looked like she might cry.

  “Noe?”

  Her sister turned on her. “See what you’ve done,” Noelle said, glaring at her.

  Mel crumpled inside. “Everybody hates me.”

  “You really don’t get it, do you? Not everything is about you.”

  “Obviously. It’s about how wonderful you and Harmony are.”

  “Don’t be such a bitch. You know that’s not true.”

  Mel pushed past her, knocking into her as she passed.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Noelle demanded, following her into the living room.

  “To my room.”

  “You’re on reception this morning.”

  “You do it. You owe me one.”

  Mel slammed her bedroom door.

  “Fine,” Noelle yelled from the other side. “Be selfish.”

  “Eff you,” Mel yelled back. She brushed away angry tears. She was being a bitch but she couldn’t help it. Everything was falling apart and she just wanted to be happy. “I hate you all.”

  Eve had gone out the back and down the path several hundred feet before she stopped for breath. What had she just done? She never lost her cool and she’d just given her youngest an ultimatum. That was not her.

  But she wouldn’t go back and apologize. Because right now, she didn’t feel like relenting. She’d worked her butt off, for some of the right reasons—at least what she thought were the right reasons—but a lot just to “make good.”

  What a stupid phrase. Wh
at was “making good”? How did you know when you achieved it? It was about as stupid a concept as half sister. Both were meaningless.

  She’d let the girls stew a bit. She’d left them in total silence. She doubted if it lasted long. They were probably back at each other’s throats before Eve got to the sidewalk. One thing about the Gordons, they were stubborn—and they knew how to hold a grudge even if they suffered for it.

  She’d hoped this trait wouldn’t show itself in her girls. But she wasn’t surprised, and she wasn’t altogether unhappy about it. Stubbornness got you through when everything else failed. She had every reason to know.

  It was the rare moments like these, when everyone was feeling the need to lash out at the same time, that Eve was tempted to let them all sink or swim. Take off to parts unknown and let them fend for themselves. She’d always wanted to travel. Had managed to go a few places when she was on the high school soccer team.

  But for the past fifteen years she’d worked nonstop, efficiently and diligently, and with love in her heart—it was a spa, after all. But more recently, she realized, she was working out of sheer habit.

  She’d managed to walk away from her cottage without looking back. Were they watching her from the window? Bonding over her as the common enemy? “She’s turning out just like Granna.” Or had they already dismissed her? And were eating toast and honey and streaming the latest Netflix series?

  She marched up the path toward the inn but turned onto the walkway that led to the street.

  Mike’s house was three blocks from Main Street, set back on a wooded lot on the banks of one of the tributaries that ran into the river and eventually to the sea. She just went there automatically, not wondering if he’d be awake, not caring if he had company. He was a popular guy, and though they were pretty close, she didn’t have—or want—exclusivity.

  She stopped outside the frame craftsman-style house, looked around for an unfamiliar car. Only Mike’s beat-up old Jeep was parked at the side of the house, but that didn’t mean that he was alone.

  Why had she even come here? She could probably just sneak away before she was tempted to whine out the whole story to him, her long-suffering friend. Of course, he’d poured out some of his stuff to her over the years. They were a good team.

  So why did she feel like she was taking advantage of him? She turned to go.

  “Hey. You made the walk. Now come make the coffee.”

  She turned and smiled at Mike waving from his doorway, as burly as a spring bear. But much more good-natured.

  She walked back to his door, said thanks with downcast eyes, and slipped past him.

  “Oh, brother,” he said, before closing the door on the world.

  Chapter 9

  Zoe spent the morning pacing in her room. She practiced several scenarios for talking to Henry and Floret, most of which began with first stopping to listen to the chimes and hoping for inspiration. They’d been playing through her head all night as she slept. Even when she woke she thought she could hear them wafting up from the beach, but that beach was on the other side of Wind Chime House. It would be impossible.

  The sound was really coming from inside her.

  But what she would do after hearing the chimes was sketchier. Walk up to the house and declare her intentions of spreading her mother’s ashes on Wind Chime Beach? Ease into it by—and that’s where she got stumped. How did you ease into something like that? Better just to blurt it out.

  Really, how could they say no? They were obviously living the hippie dream. They’d totally understand. As long as David Merrick didn’t get involved. Though, surely, he was just trying to protect them and his wind chimes.

  She’d have to somehow convince them that she meant no harm.

  She couldn’t put it off any longer. She’d just go and hope for the best. She grabbed her purse and strode to the elevator with the best of intentions. Well, maybe she should have breakfast first. Breakfast was the key to a productive day. And she planned to have both.

  But not at the inn. She’d seen the diner on her way to Wind Chime yesterday. It would be faster than the inn. Then she’d go straight to the commune.

  She peeked down the hall before she stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor, then tucked her head in preparation for scooting past the reception desk.

  She didn’t get far.

  “Hey! Wait.”

  She didn’t look around but kept going. She heard the receptionist come from behind the desk.

  “Good God, Mel. What did you do to your hair? Mom’s gonna kill you. No wonder you crept out of the cottage without saying good-bye.”

  A hand clamped around Zoe’s arm and spun her around.

  A woman about Zoe’s age, with light brown hair that waved past her shoulders, stared open-mouthed at her.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you were my sister.”

  Right, she’d called Zoe “Mel.” A case of mistaken identity.

  “Your hair looks great, really. It’s just . . .”

  “It wouldn’t work on Mel at all,” Zoe said, pulling herself together.

  “Right. I’m really sorry. It’s just we had sort of a misunderstanding and— I’m Noelle, Mel’s sister.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Zoe began to ease away.

  “It’s weird,” Noelle said. “For a minute . . . Well, I’m really, really sorry. It’s a great style. Perfect for your face.”

  “Thanks. Listen, I’ve got to run.”

  Noelle nodded. “Have a nice day,” she said, as Zoe hurried through the lobby door to the street.

  Leave it to Zoe to find the nuttiest family in town. She enjoyed interesting characters as much as the next person, but this was getting beyond weird.

  She stopped at Kelly’s Diner. It was pretty busy, so she sat at the counter between an old guy who hunched over his coffee cup like it was the dead of winter and a hipster couple who kept asking questions about which was the best beach.

  According to Jim, the short, happy-with-his-own-food man behind the counter, there were several. He mentioned a few, none of which were named Wind Chime.

  The breakfast was good and greasy enough to rival any self-respecting Long Island diner. And Jim, who turned out to be the Mr. Kelly who owned the driveway to Wind Chime House, was a jovial conversationalist as he moved from customer to food pass-through, filled coffee cups, and gave directions in an efficient but unhurried way, adding additional stains to his white apron as he went.

  Zoe turned down a second cup. And, metaphorically girded for battle with a stack of pancakes and a side of bacon, she continued on her way to Wind Chime.

  She had second thoughts as she reached the drive, second thoughts that grew into big, fat cowardice as she neared the house. But she’d come too far to give in to nerves now.

  She hadn’t made contingency plans for running into David Merrick, who was hammering new pickets onto the sagging fence. If you asked Zoe, he should pull it all down and start over. But nobody asked her. He didn’t even notice her arrival. Bent over his work, shirtless, his bronzed skin glistening in the sun, he looked more like a manual laborer than the creator of those amazing photographs.

  There was no way to get to Henry and Floret without passing by him. She strode ahead. He straightened and turned around just as Dulcie appeared from the woods and galloped toward her.

  Zoe froze.

  “Dulcie,” David said.

  The goat did a funny hop and trotted over to him.

  Zoe scooted toward the gate with her hand outstretched, as if that could ward off attacking goats.

  “Do you think I could talk to Henry and Floret this morning?”

  “Sure. They’re expecting you.”

  “What? How can they be expecting me? What did you tell them?”

  “Not a thing. They already knew you’d be back. They’ve been waiting for you to show up. Evidently for weeks. I didn’t realize that until after you left yesterday.”

  “That’s crazy. No one knew I was co
ming here. I didn’t even know I was coming here until yesterday. I only came back today to—to—” She didn’t think he needed to know why she was really here—not after all his crazy talk about expecting her.

  “To talk to Henry and Floret. Come on.” David shoved the hammer he’d been holding into the loop of his jeans and started toward the gate, Dulcie by his side.

  He grabbed a T-shirt off one of the pickets, then leaned past her to pull the gate open. Dulcie took the opportunity to lunge at Zoe.

  Zoe threw herself behind David in a cowardly attempt to hold him in front of her as a goat shield, realized she was grasping bare skin, and jumped away. “Sorry, I . . .”

  “She’s friendly once you get to know her.” David pulled the shirt over his head. “Too friendly, a-pain-in-the-butt friendly. Aren’t you, Dulcie?”

  The goat bumped her head against his leg, and he shut the gate against her indignant bleating.

  “Why doesn’t she have horns?”

  David gave her a sideways look. “Wishful thinking?”

  Zoe tried not to smile, but couldn’t quite pull it off.

  “Floret liberated her from Barry Jenkins, a local farmer, right after he disbudded her. It’s a common practice among dairy goats.”

  “Does it hurt?” Zoe asked, momentarily distracted and feeling a sudden sympathy for Dulcie.

  “I have no idea, but Floret called Barry a barbarian and took the goat. Just so you know, Henry ended up paying him fifty bucks on the sly. That was years ago.” David turned toward the house and called out, “Company!”

  The door opened and the tallest man Zoe had ever seen stepped onto the porch.

  “She’s here,” David said, and a chill ran up Zoe’s spine. Had he mimicked Jack Nicholson’s line from The Shining on purpose?

  There was no doubt in her mind now. Henry was her ghost. And Dulcie the terrifying demon from hell. She was such an idiot. They must have been taking an evening walk in the fog. Perfectly normal. Right.

  Zoe climbed the steps and stopped in front of him. He was definitely tall, but not as tall as he’d appeared in the fog or even yesterday. In the daylight and up close he was not scary at all. Not yet anyway.