The Beach House

by Rachel Hanna

  “Right.”

  He smiled and looked at her. “Was there more to that story?”

  She was so tired. And hot. And sticky. Why was it so dang sticky here?

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a very long day. I’m looking for a place to stay for the night.”

  “You can’t stay at your house?”

  She shook her head. “It’s a little less… habitable… than I imagined.”

  He chuckled. “You mean you didn’t come see it in person before you bought it?”

  She hung her head. “No, I didn’t. I had to move kind of… quickly. I took a chance.”

  “Ah. Well, should I worry that you’re some kind of fugitive? Having to leave quickly and all that.”

  Gosh, his voice sure was nice. She felt like she needed to lay down in a hammock and sip a mint julep right about now.

  “No. Not a fugitive. So, do you have a vacancy?”

  “Sure. Come on in,” he said, opening the door further and waving for her to come in. “Here, let me take your bag.”

  Without waiting for a response, he took it from her shoulder and shut the door behind them. It occurred to her that she was now alone in a house on a sparsely inhabited island with a strange man who was better looking than any real live human she’d ever seen. This was one of those murder shows she watched and shook her head at.

  “Why was the woman dumb enough to believe that guy and get in his car?”

  “Who would be stupid enough to go into a house alone with a strange man?”

  Yep, she was now the dumb woman she always wondered about.

  “Lucy?” he called out. Before Julie could ask who that was, a woman appeared. She was wearing a simple floral house dress and looked like she’d stepped right out of Hawaii, but here she was in South Carolina.

  “Yes?”

  “We have an unexpected guest. Can you show her to the Savannah suite?”

  He had suites? The house didn’t seem big enough for that.

  “Sure, hon,” she said, her drawl as thick as his. “Follow me, sweetie,” she said, as the man handed her Julie’s bag. Lucy was a larger, curvy woman, probably her mother’s age or maybe a bit more. Her skin was the color of Julie’s favorite latte drink, and her eyes were as black as midnight. Julie wished her pale white skin - that her grandmother called “porcelain” - would even turn a shade darker to “off white”, but the only color she ever turned was red. And then she peeled like some kind of weird lizard, and she was white all over again.

  She followed Lucy up the narrow staircase and to a room down the hall. Everything was expertly decorated for the time period, and Julie found herself wishing she’d just bought this place instead of her dump down the street.

  Maybe she just needed a good night’s sleep. Perhaps everything would look, and feel, better in the morning. The only problem was that she wasn’t really tired. She was exhausted mentally. Her muscles hurt. But she wasn’t going to be able to actually sleep for a few hours. In fact, she realized she hadn’t even had dinner yet.

  “Hey, Lucy?” she called to the woman before she left the room.

  “Yeah, hon?”

  “I’m a bit hungry. Is there a restaurant on the island?” She hoped there was some place other than The Shrimp Shack. That place truly looked like a shack.

  Lucy giggled. “There are a couple, but nobody’s open at this hour.”

  Julie picked up her phone and looked at the time. It was just after eight-thirty.

  “They don’t stay open for dinner?”

  “Sugar, dinner’s at six around here. They’re all closed up by this time of night. You ever lived on an island?”

  Julie shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

  “Well, get used to a new way of life, hon. Island time is very different than regular time. We close up shop early and go home to enjoy the sounds of the marsh and the moonlit views of the ocean. We ain’t about working on the island.”

  Julie smiled. “I kind of like that mentality.”

  “If you’re hungry, I can make you a sandwich out of the roast beef we had for dinner.”

  “Oh, that sounds delicious.”

  “Come on downstairs when you’re ready then. I’ll get you all fixed up.” Lucy shut the door behind her as Julie stood in the middle of the room and looked around.

  It occurred to her that she was currently homeless. Yes, she’d bought a house, but what good was that if she couldn’t live there? And she certainly couldn’t afford to keep staying at the inn for weeks on end.

  She had a lot to think about, and a lot of worries to stew over, but right now she needed food in her belly.

  Julie sat at the dining table in the dimly lit room. The table was heavy and looked recently handmade, but matched the time period. The original wallpaper covered the walls, and the thick moulding lined the room around the ceiling. Although the house was small, the ceilings were high and made everything look bigger.

  An antique vase sat in the middle of the table full of some kind of brightly colored local flower she couldn’t yet identify. Vintage dishes, some with cracks and chips, sat in a corner cabinet lit with little bulbs to show off the contents. It was very homey for someone with no home.

  “Here ya go, hon,” Lucy said as she sat the plate in front of her.

  “Oh, wow. My grandmother had these same dishes,” Julie said, taking a moment to smile and remember all the times she’d eaten her grandmother’s famous homemade pound cake off of the very same plates.

  Lucy smiled. “Memories are a good thing to have when we’re a bit lost, aren’t they?”

  Julie nodded. “Do I look lost?”

  “You sure do, like a fish outta water,” she said with a chuckle.

  “I guess I’m not a great actress.”

  “We all get lost once in awhile, but the island has a way of bringing us back to life.”

  “I hope that’s the case with me.”

  Lucy turned and poured Julie a glass of sweet tea, setting it in front of her. “Give it time. Let the island do its work.”

  The way she spoke, with such authority and wisdom, made Julie miss her grandmother, who she had affectionately called Gigi.

  Gigi had made her feel safe even in the worst of times. She missed her everyday even though she’d been gone for years.

  “If there’s nothing else right now, I think I’ll go finish tidying up the kitchen,” Lucy said, smiling.

  “Please, don’t let me stop you from doing your work. I’m very thankful for the sandwich, though. Please put it on my tab.”

  Lucy chuckled and shook her head. “You really don’t get how island life works, do ya?” She continued laughing as she pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen.

  Maybe Julie didn’t get island life just yet.

  “How’s the sandwich?” she heard a voice say from behind her. It was the man again. This time, he was leaning against the doorframe on the other side of the room. What was it with this guy and leaning?

  “Amazing. Thank you so much. I told Lucy to put it on my tab.”

  He chuckled just like Lucy had.

  “What’s so funny?”

  The man walked around and sat down at the other end of the table. In the dim light, with only the orange glow of a couple of oil lamps and a candle in the middle of the table, he looked like some kind of hero from a romance novel come to life. He had brown hair, a bit long, almost to his shoulders. Michael had never let his hair grow past his ears, which always made him look a little bit too put together and more on the nerdy side.

  Even though the man’s hair was brown, there were streaks of yellow throughout as if he’d been bathing in the sun every day of his life. And then there was the tan, a golden brown that rivaled anything she’d seen on all of those suntan oil bottles at the drug store.

  “On Seabreeze, we’re big on hospitality. Sandwiches are free, especially for new guests to our little oasis.”

  “Really? Well, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I
hadn’t found this place. Can you tell me the daily rent? I’ll be glad to put my credit card on file…”

  “Oh, we don’t take credit cards.”

  “Just cash?”

  He smiled, that one side of his mouth rising up higher than the other. “What’s your name again?”

  “Julie.”

  “Well, Julie, I’m Dawson Lancaster,” he said, reaching across the table and shaking her hand. His hands were so large, much like he was. She wouldn’t have taken him for an innkeeper if she’d seen him out in public. More like a lumberjack with his height and muscular build.

  “Oh, as in Lancaster Inn? How long have you owned this place?”

  “It’s been in my family for generations. I’ve lived here since I was a kid. The island is in my blood, I guess you could say.”

  “Do you get a lot of visitors?”

  “Here? Nah. Not really. Just the occasional tourist who ventures out this way to look for gators.”

  “Maybe you could do more marketing? I’m sure people would love to stay here if they knew what a beautiful place this was.” He smiled again. It was like he and Lucy were keeping a secret. “Okay, what’s so funny?”

  She was starting to feel uncomfortable and a little perturbed. Plus, she was hot, sticky and tired, so she really just wanted to get upstairs to take a cool bath in the clawfoot tub she saw.

  “Well, Miss Julie, I hate to tell ya this, but the inn hasn’t been in operation since the eighties when my grandma still ran it and I lived in the attic.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “I don’t understand. There’s an open sign right over there in the window.”

  “We keep it on in honor of Granny. She never met a stranger and sure as heck wouldn’t turn anyone away.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me you weren’t open to guests?” Now, she was really embarrassed. She’d basically interrupted this poor guy’s life and invited herself to stay at his house for the night. Or longer.

  “My Granny would haunt me for the rest of my days if I’d turned you away, especially being a new neighbor and all.”

  “I’m so sorry about all of this,” she said, starting to stand up. “I’ll just drive over to the mainland and check into a hotel over there…”

  He stood up. “No, don’t do that. We enjoy the company. I only told you because you seemed intent on giving me money, and I don’t want your money.”

  Julie slowly sat back down, glad she didn’t have to leave, at least for the night. “Okay, but I promise I’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

  “Why is that?”

  “The rally starts tomorrow on the mainland. All the hotels are booked solid for the next week.”

  “Rally?”

  “Motorcycles. Happens every year. It’s crazy over there. Even if there was a room, I sure wouldn’t recommend a lady stay over there by herself during the rally.”

  She didn’t know whether to be offended that he thought she couldn’t take care of herself or feel protected by this total stranger.

  “This whole thing is a disaster,” she moaned, putting her head in her hands and almost into her sandwich.

  “The cottage, you mean?”

  “I can’t believe what a mistake I made. And I can’t afford… I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I’m a terrible house guest.”

  He smiled. “I don’t get much company on this end of the island. I could use a little conversation. So, tell me why you bought the house sight unseen.”

  She sighed. “I’m in the middle of a divorce that I wasn’t expecting. We sold the home we’d owned together for all those years, and I used my half to buy that place. It wasn’t much, and I guess now I know why. It’s just that I have always dreamed of living at the beach.”

  Dawson smiled. “This place will draw you in. The cottage just needs a little sprucing up.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I think you’re putting it mildly. I almost had a mental breakdown when I went inside.”

  He chuckled. “Ah, I’ve seen worse. Just needs a little elbow grease and imagination.”

  “Do you know any contractors I can call? I mean, I can do a lot of the clean up work myself, but there are some projects I’ll need to get quotes on.”

  “Sure. I’ve got a business card around here somewhere. I’ll be sure to leave it on the front table when I find it.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I really do appreciate your hospitality, Dawson. I feel a bit out of my element here.”

  “Don’t you worry, Julie. The island never lets anyone go. You’ll get the hang of it, and then you’ll never want to be anywhere else.”

  “I sure hope you’re right.”

  Chapter 5

  As Julie drove back up to her new home, her stomach churned. What had she done? What would her friends back home think? Where was home now?

  In reality, she didn’t have any friends she could count on, and her home was no longer her home. Seabreeze was her new home, but it felt more like the second biggest disaster of her life, with Michael taking that coveted number one spot.

  She’d gotten up early and snuck out of the inn, leaving a note thanking Dawson. He’d also left her a business card on the front table for Seabreeze Contracting, so she decided she’d call them and at least two others to get estimates for the work that needed to be done.

  After leaving the inn, she’d driven back across to the mainland and found the nearest big box hardware store. She had to pick up whatever she needed to survive in her new home until it could be made livable. Her small car was now filled with an inflatable mattress, linens, a couple of battery powered fans, a small grill and battery operated lanterns. She was literally camping in her own home.

  There were moments that rage crawled up out of her depths when she thought about why she was in this position in the first place. Michael. His inability to remain faithful in their marriage. And now he was living the comfortable life in Boston, his new fiancee and their precious baby boy by his side. Meanwhile, she was living in a swamp and about to camp out in her own living room. Good times.

  She’d texted both of her girls, telling them about her new home. Of course, she’d downplayed it quite a bit. Colleen wasn’t buying it and had questioned her like a prosecutor.

  “I’m coming to help you,” she’d said.

  “No. I don’t need help, sweetie. I’m a grown woman, and I can hire some help to get it in shape. I’ll be fine.”

  Even as she’d typed it, she knew she was in for an uphill battle. But the last thing she wanted was for her girls to stop their lives to help her. Plus, if she was going to have the mental breakdown of her life, she’d rather do it alone.

  Julie spent the day cleaning the place from top to bottom, at least trying to rid it of the dust and bugs that currently inhabited it. She scrubbed walls, mopped floors and poured bleach on any surface that could withstand it.

  There were moments she questioned her sanity. Why wasn’t she just leaving? Surely she could sell this place to someone else. Someone handier. Someone crazier. Some other sucker.

  “I reckon this is going to require at least six months of work, ma’am.”

  “What? Six months?” she said, staring at the contractor in her living room. He was about as round as he was tall, and he smelled like an Italian restaurant. She wondered if it would take six months simply because he didn’t have the stamina to finish it sooner.

  “We’re going to have to fix these holes in the floor, repair the walls, rebuild that porch…” As he started to list all of the things he was going to do, she zoned out. There was no way she was going to allow someone in her house for six months.

  “Thanks for coming by, but I don’t think this is a good fit.” She walked him to the door and opened it.

  “Alright then, but good luck. This place is a pit,” the man said, grumbling as he passed her and waddled to his truck.

  “Yeah, well tell me something I
don’t know!” she yelled as she slammed the door.

  Once he was out of sight, she let out a scream that probably scared the heron that hung out behind her crappy little oasis.

  “Yikes, you okay?” a voice said from behind her. She turned to see Dawson standing at the front door.

  Julie sighed. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you there. Do you know a real estate agent?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “I think I need to sell this place and recoup some of my investment.” She slid to the floor and leaned her head against the wall.

  Dawson chuckled. “Not a good day so far?”

  “I’ve met two contractors today, and both were way too high for my budget and quoted me months of work. I’m meeting one more, and if he concurs, I’m selling this place and running away from home.”

  He walked around the room, looking as he went. “This place does need a lot of work, but it has good bones. I remember when the Gilbert’s owned it. They were this sweet little old couple. Never had any kids. I cut their small patch of grass when I was in middle school.”

  “Why did they move?”

  “Mrs. Gilbert got Alzheimer’s, so they moved closer to a niece in Orlando. As I understand it, they both ended up in the nursing home together. I imagine they’re long since gone from this world,” he said, staring at the mantel for a moment before turning back to her.

  Julie worked her way back up to a standing position, hard as it was from all the hours of scrubbing. “I think I got in over my head here. I don’t know the first thing about rehabbing a house, especially one like this.”

  “Oh, it’s not so hard, honestly. We’ve had to renovate parts of the inn throughout the years, and it just takes a little extra thought because of the historical nature of these homes. But they’re worth preserving.”

  Julie smiled sadly. “I’m sure you’re right, but I’m lost here, Dawson. I don’t know the sounds or the smells of the marsh. I don’t recognize the birds. I don’t know how to survive in a place like this.” She was struggling to hold back tears as she realized how lonely she already felt.