Cottage at the Beach (The Off Season)

by Lee Tobin McClain

Hannah’s forehead wrinkled. “I can’t. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Go ask him if he knows what else is open in town,” Erica urged. “We might want to come over this way again, and I don’t know what else there is to do.”

  Hannah bit her lip.

  Erica smiled and nodded sideways. “Go on. Do it. Be brave.”

  Hannah gave her a half smile and walked slowly over to the guy. He was backing out of the storage area, and the moment he saw Hannah he straightened and smiled, making it obvious that he was glad she’d come over to socialize. That was good; it would make it easier on Hannah.

  Erica watched as the two of them talked. Hannah pushed her hair back with one hand, and the bike guy raised his eyebrows and smiled and touched her arm ever so lightly. He pointed at a flyer in a plastic holder at the side of the bike stand, and soon the two of them were studying it, standing close, laughing together.

  It was sweet, and Erica was glad that Hannah was beginning to be open to those kinds of feelings, was beginning to have something good and new and normal in her life.

  Watching the teens made her think of Trey and last night. He’d wanted to kiss her. He, Mr. Movie Star, had wanted to kiss her! Her stomach churned with butterflies, excitement and worry all at the same time.

  No denying she had acted like a dolt, running away. She’d probably insulted Trey.

  But what choice did she have? She couldn’t get involved. That was simply off the table for now. She wasn’t going to be what she’d always wanted to be, the wife of a wonderful man and the mother of lots of kids. Her future was coded differently, coded in her very genes. She hoped she’d be around to help Hannah, but could she really guarantee that? No. She still had increased risk of several kinds of cancer, and no matter how many vegetables she ate, no matter how many supplements she took, the cloud of it hung over her.

  She simply couldn’t inflict that on a man.

  But does that mean you can never kiss a man, never in your whole life?

  “C’mere, Erica!” Hannah was beckoning to her. Both she and the boy looked excited.

  “What’s up?”

  “Santiago says he saw King!”

  Erica tilted her head to one side. “How do you know King?”

  “From the school. I’m a senior there, and I saw him a couple of times. His coloring is unusual for a German shepherd, more black on the muzzle.”

  “And tell her, tell her what was happening,” Hannah urged.

  “This big guy, he was yelling at him,” Santiago said. “Yelling kind of mean.”

  Erica thought of how sternly Trey had corrected Ziggy during last night’s training. “Maybe that’s just how they do it with police dogs,” she said.

  “I felt like it was more than that.” Santiago waved his arm toward the northern part of the beach. “If you don’t believe me, come back and see. He is there mostly every morning and also in the evenings, trying to train the dog.” He frowned. “The dog does not look happy.”

  “We can come back, can’t we, Aunt Erica?” Hannah said.

  All of a sudden, Erica wondered whether this was really about King, or whether it was about two young people who wanted another excuse to get together. “We’ll see,” she said, keeping her voice neutral.

  But as they bade Santiago goodbye and headed for the car, Erica kept thinking about what Santiago had said. Should she tell Trey about King? Or was she as bad as the young people, trying to make an excuse to get together with him again?

  * * *

  MONDAY AFTERNOON, TREY glanced around the semicircle of bored-looking kids and almost groaned aloud. Whose idea had it been to have these students tour the Pleasant Shores police station?

  Of course, Trey knew the answer to that: it had been his idea. Just not a very good one.

  Initially, he had thought that putting together an excursion outside of school, visiting the local police station, might get him on Earl Greene’s good side. And since his own chief was using his success or failure as a volunteer as part of his criteria for reinstating Trey on the force, a good word from Earl could only help.

  Getting back to his own force seemed even more desirable since Erica, who was currently snapping pictures of the teenagers as they listened to Earl Greene’s jovial speech, had rejected him. He’d never intended to stay here, but the way she’d shunned him Friday night made him want to get out fast.

  He looked around at the cinder-block walls, the shelves overflowing with boxes and equipment, and felt at home. This was where he belonged, a police station, no matter how shabby. Not a school where all he was doing was working—badly—with underage minors.

  The school principal had insisted on coming along on the field trip, but he was making his distaste clear. Trey was starting to get a bead on the guy: he was a wannabe, eager to please the board of directors, who’d tasked him with recruiting more students from among the wealthy residents of town. The academy’s behavior support section, a charity-based program for at-risk kids, detracted from the school’s appeal to those residents, at least in the principal’s eyes.

  The kids were restless listening to Officer Greene go on about how records were stored. The dispatch room was a little more interesting, but it was so small that only one kid could look in the door at a time, leaving the rest of them to poke and jab at each other and generally cause commotion in the little police station.

  He stepped over to Greene. “I think they’d like to see the holding cells,” he said. “In fact, if you wanted, you could lock them in.”

  Greene laughed. “That’s tempting.”

  “No, I mean it. We used to do that in my old department, lock people in and give them a feel for what jail is like.”

  The barrel-chested officer studied Trey with a half smile on his face. “You wouldn’t be trying to tell me how to do my job, would you?”

  Trey lifted his hands, palms out. “No, no way,” he said. “Just a thought.”

  But Greene did take the kids down to the holding cells next. Since they were empty, he let the kids go inside if they wanted to, and closed the door on them, although he didn’t lock the door and turn off the lights as had happened on one dramatic tour Trey had witnessed back at his own station.

  Still, the cells had an impact on the kids, especially when the old-fashioned, barred metal gates closed. That clank was definitive.

  “They can’t even go to the toilet with privacy,” Rory said, looking around the cell.

  “Can’t do nothin’ with privacy,” Shane added.

  It was true—privacy was one of the biggest losses prisoners faced. Trey was just glad these kids were now in a program that would hopefully keep them out of a place like this.

  “Stinks in here.” One of the girls wrinkled her nose. “Is this where LJ was held?”

  “I’m not at liberty to talk about specific cases,” Greene said.

  “Hey, is it true LJ’s coming back?” Shane asked.

  “What?” The principal had heard that, and he glared from Shane to Erica. “Surely you haven’t told the students that we’re bringing that criminal back into our school.”

  Erica met his eyes steadily. “He is exactly the kind of kid who needs to be here,” she said quietly. “He’d never gotten in trouble before. I’d like to offer him another chance, once his detention is served.”

  “Having a criminal element in our school is just why I want this program terminated,” O’Neil huffed.

  Greene, Trey and Erica exchanged glances, and the kids who weren’t busy taking pictures of one another in the jail cell started to whisper. Fear and resentment crossed several faces, and Trey could guess why. This program meant a lot to the kids, and they didn’t want to lose it.

  “We have no reason to keep him out,” Erica repeated, “and it’s in our charter to accept all kinds of kids and help them to the next level.” Her voice softened. �
�LJ is a terrific kid. I’ve missed him, and I know he’ll be a great addition when he comes back to our class. I’m almost sure he’ll stay out of trouble.”

  “Can you guarantee that?” the principal asked.

  “No, of course not,” Erica said. “But I will vouch for him, to the board if need be. I believe in him.”

  How great it would’ve been, Trey thought, to have a teacher like her when he’d been going through his troubled times in school. Someone who would’ve seen past all the truant periods when his dad had come to take him away, someone to realize he actually had some smarts.

  Erica was vehement but savvy in how she spoke with the principal, not letting him bully her, but not antagonizing him with a lot of attitude.

  Trey wished there was something he could do to help the boy, since he’d been the one to get him in trouble. Trouble LJ had brought on himself, sure, but Trey still wished him well, remembered what it was like to be the bad kid. If LJ came back, he’d see what he could do.

  As the students’ visit ended, Officer Greene pulled him aside. “If you can help her keep this program alive, it would go a long way toward my making a good recommendation for you.”

  “Really, you’re that on board with it?”

  “Whatever we can do to get kids off the street and keep them out of trouble, I’m in favor.” As Erica came over, Greene changed the subject. “Any word about that dog of yours?”

  “Oh,” Erica exclaimed, looking at Trey. “I meant to tell you. We heard a little bit about King, Hannah and I did, on Saturday while we were in Trinity Bay.”

  Trey had forced himself not to seek out information through the police grapevine about King, but he pounced on Erica’s words like a thirsty man would grab for a pitcher of water. “What did you hear?”

  “Well...” She looked a little troubled. “A source—and I don’t know how reliable he is—said that the new owner is being harsh with him.”

  The idea of Cochran being harsh with King made the breath leave Trey’s lungs. As they walked back to the school, he probed until he’d gotten some details, shrugging aside her reluctance to talk about it and her reminders that she wasn’t sure the kid who’d seen Cochran was an accurate and believable witness.

  “I’d like to go over there and see King.” He paused, then added, “Especially if you’ll come with me.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AFTER A FEW days hiding out in her room, eating chocolate and stalking Melvin’s new girlfriend on social media, Julie woke up on Wednesday with a plan. By the time she got to her 10:00 a.m. shift at the bookstore, she was hot, tired and sweaty, but determined.

  “Have a seat. You look like you’re about to pass out.” Mary waved her toward the high office chair behind the cash register. “What have you been doing?”

  “Walked four miles.” Julie sat down, grateful for the chance to catch her breath. “After Zumba class.”

  Mary laughed. “Ever heard of moderation?”

  “Moderation won’t get me where I want to be,” Julie said.

  “Which is where?”

  “Right about where I was when I married Melvin,” she said. “I have at least fifty pounds to lose.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Mary said. “You look perfect just the way you are, and if men don’t appreciate it, there’s something wrong with them.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Julie gestured at Mary’s model-thin figure, her stylish clothes. All the men in town loved her, and several of the over-fifty crowd actively pursued her, to no avail.

  “It’s true,” Mary scolded. “You have a lovely, curvaceous shape, and if you dressed to accentuate it, you’d be gorgeous. And in high demand, if that’s of interest.”

  “Thanks.” But Mary was a kind friend, not an age-appropriate man. “Want me to work on that diet book display we were planning?”

  She knew she wasn’t the only one in Pleasant Shores who was trying to drop a few pounds. With swimsuit season coming on, lots of folks would be cutting the carbs and desserts. Or at least buying books about how to do it.

  “You mean the books that poor child Melvin has taken up with was looking at?”

  “Yeah.” Julie gave a disgusted sigh. “Though, technically, she’s not a child. She’s definitely young, and definitely skinny. Except...up front.” She cupped her hands in front of her own average-size breasts to show what she meant.

  “And lacking in other qualities, I imagine,” Mary said. “Youth and skinniness are overrated. And so often, they’re just fleeting.”

  “Even when I was young, I wasn’t skinny. Not like that poor child, anyway.” Julie headed over to the cookbook section. She pulled the books out one at a time, focusing on the most colorful and appealing low-calorie books for the display.

  And, yes, they were the ones Melvin’s skinny girlfriend had handled.

  She studied the glossy photos of vegetables and read the cover testimonials. They had to be fake, didn’t they? Did anyone ever lose half their body weight from using one cookbook?

  That was about how much she’d have to lose to even be in the same ballpark as Melvin’s new squeeze, she thought darkly. Even then, she’d still be old. Well, Melvin’s age, and men didn’t want women their own age; they wanted younger, fertile ones who could prop up their sagging manhood.

  A younger woman was less likely to be patient with Melvin’s older-guy issues than Julie had been. Except maybe he didn’t have those issues when confronted with a body like the poor child had.

  Still, Julie was determined to show Melvin. He’d get tired of the vapid interior of his new girlfriend, and he’d miss his wife’s good conversation, her insight. Add a newly muscular, shapely figure, and he’d be crying into his hair dye.

  Mary came over and helped her arrange the diet cookbooks on a table in the front of the store. “So, how are you doing?” she asked, her voice neutral. “With regard to Melvin, I mean.”

  “I’m doing fine. I’m gonna lose this weight and get some new clothes and see if I can get him back.”

  Mary’s forehead wrinkled, her lips pursing to one side. “Are you sure you want him?”

  “No. Not really. But I want the option. And I don’t like seeing him with someone else.”

  “Something to think about,” Mary said. “You started wanting him back more when you saw him with someone else. Wonder if the same would hold true for him?”

  “Meaning what?” Julie straightened a book about intermittent fasting that claimed you could eat whatever you wanted as long as it was within a six-hour window each day. That sounded good, as long as it didn’t interfere with her nightly ration of wine and pretzels.

  Which it probably would.

  “You could do some dating yourself,” Mary suggested.

  “Ugh.” Julie kept rearranging books, not looking at her friend. “Even if I wanted to date some new guy, which I don’t, where am I supposed to meet a single guy my age in this town?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of online dating?” Mary picked up her phone and scrolled with an elegant, perfectly manicured finger. “Look, I have an app.”

  “You do?” To Julie’s knowledge, Mary had never gone out on a date. Mary never talked about it, but the rumor was that she’d been widowed at a young age and had never had kids. Now she seemed to be married to her bookstore.

  “I’m not in the market, no, but I always did like shopping,” Mary said with a lazy smile. “Take a look.”

  They sank down onto the edge of the front window display together, and Mary showed her the app. “Swipe right if you like what you see, swipe left if you don’t,” Mary explained. She punched in some parameters that she said would fit Julie—age, body type, educational level—and they looked at the results.

  Seventy-five men within fifty miles were apparently looking for someone like Julie. Who knew? They giggled over a couple of bare-chested
mirror shots and rolled their eyes over usernames like “Stud4U” and “RichSexyRetired.”

  “Seriously,” Julie said, “these are not the guys to make Melvin jealous. He’d laugh if he saw me with one of them.”

  Mary quirked an eyebrow. “He’s not such a prize himself.”

  “I look at these guys and think I’d rather spend an evening with my granddaughters. Or you. Or a good book.”

  “Fair enough,” Mary said. “Like I said, it’s fun to shop for men. But you don’t notice me making an actual purchase.”

  The bells on the door jingled, and Earl Greene’s friendly, bespectacled face peeked around the door. “Just my daily check-in, ladies,” he said. “Everything good here?”

  “Better than good. We’re looking at some online dating for Julie,” Mary said.

  Julie elbowed Mary, hard, as Earl came all the way in, turning down his police radio. “You don’t have to tell the whole world! She’s showing it to me,” she called across the store to Earl. “I’m not actually doing online dating.”

  “I’m not telling the whole world. I’m just telling Earl,” Mary said. And then, in a whisper, “Why don’t you go out with him? He’s always had a crush on you.”

  Julie elbowed Mary again, harder, as Earl crossed the bookstore to lean against the counter. “Finding any good prospects?” he asked.

  “At least eight millionaires,” Julie said. “And they’re all six-two and good-looking, according to their bios.”

  Earl snorted. “Yeah, I know how that goes. I’ve met a couple of women who didn’t quite match their profile pictures.”

  “You’ve done online dating?” Julie looked at him, fascinated. She’d never thought about the love life of her and Melvin’s nerdy friend.

  “Uh-huh. At least, I used to. But it’s an expensive proposition, taking out women who are ten years older and twenty pounds heavier than they claimed to be online.”

  “They’re just trying to be what men want!” Julie lifted her hands, palms up. “Young, skinny women. Even old guys with no hair and giant bellies are sure they deserve a Victoria’s Secret model. They’re not going to click on a realistic-size woman their own age.”