Message in the Sand

by Hannah McKinnon

  Then she spun on her heel and ran through the house and out the front door. Outside, she headed for her only sanctuary: the barn. When she got to Raddy’s stall, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his mane. She hadn’t even asked about what would happen to Raddy!

  There were plenty of other people who’d want them—really want them—in Saybrook. Not just Chloe’s family but also Eliza! She had no kids of her own, and she’d known Pippa and Julia forever. Her parents had loved Eliza. There were others, too, she’d think of once she’d calmed down. Candace was not their only choice.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket. The text between her and Sam was open, waiting for her reply.

  The last message he’d sent was: “Please Jules. When can I see you?”

  It was time. She stabbed at the screen with her index finger: “Midnight. Tonight.”

  * * *

  “She can’t just take you away,” Sam sputtered as he paced back and forth in front of their rock. “Everything you know is here. Your home. Your friends and school.”

  “You.”

  He halted and looked up at her.

  Julia smiled. If she’d had any doubts about her growing love for him, this cemented it. Sam was incensed, and that didn’t just validate her feelings. It drove home her plan.

  Sam clambered up on the rock beside her. “We can get you a lawyer. Or some kind of guardian from the court—”

  Before he could say another word, she pressed her lips against his. It was so good to be with him again.

  When they parted, there was only the sound of the peepers and their breath between them. “We will figure something out,” he whispered.

  “You said ‘we.’ ”

  They sat on their rock together, shoulder to shoulder. She’d been wrong about Sam. Seeing him had not brought back a flood of guilt, as she’d feared. Instead, for the first time since the accident, she felt a small piece of her old self. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so alone anymore.

  “I’m calling Eliza tomorrow,” she told him. “She was my mom’s assistant. But that sounds wrong—she’s really like family. She’s been with us for years, from holidays to birthdays to everything in between. My parents trusted her completely.”

  Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Just because your aunt wants to take you guys away doesn’t mean she can. Did you ever hear about those kids who get emancipated from their own parents?”

  Julia thought a moment. “Yeah, there was that kid whose parents were anti-vaxxers and he got a judge to legally separate him.”

  “Exactly. What about something like that?”

  Julia seized upon the suggestion. The idea went hand in hand with what she’d been thinking. Maybe she could appeal her parents’ will. “But first I need to decide who would take us. It’s not a small thing, taking in two kids.”

  “True. But you’re not some poor foster kid lost in a system. You’re Julia Lancaster.”

  The way he said it made her laugh. “So what?”

  “So, there are tons of people in this town who know your family and care about you. I’m telling you: we’ll find somebody.”

  Julia leaned in to him, letting the idea spill over her. It wouldn’t be easy, but it might be possible.

  Later, when they’d talked themselves into the deep darkness of night, Sam walked her home. As they crept across the yard, Julia glanced up at her aunt’s dark bedroom window.

  Even though their talk in her father’s office earlier had been brutal, Julia had swallowed her pride and gone to find Candace shortly afterward. It wasn’t because she had any intention of making peace; it was to protect Pippa and buy herself some time. Julia’s biggest fear was that Candace would tell Pippa, who had already been through too much. Better to let her aunt think she was going along with the plan until she could figure something else out.

  She’d found her aunt in the sunroom, slouched in a wicker chair with an iced tea. “Sorry about earlier,” she’d said, even though she meant not a single word of it.

  Candace regarded her curiously. “Julia, this is not easy for any of us. But it will be for the best.”

  “I know.” Julia stared at her feet, hoping her voice was convincing. “But I have to ask you for something: please don’t tell Pippa yet. Not until I get used to the idea and tell her with you. She’s too fragile right now.”

  As drained as her aunt looked, this seemed to relieve her. “All right, I suppose that’s fair.”

  After that, they’d had what constituted a normal dinner together, and later, Julia had helped Pippa with a bath. She’d tried not to watch the clock as each passing minute brought her closer to seeing Sam at midnight.

  Now she and Sam ducked among shadows until they reached her front door. “You didn’t have to come all this way,” she whispered, reaching behind her for his hand.

  “The hell I didn’t,” he said.

  She turned to face him. “Thank you. For all of it.”

  Sam tilted his face down toward hers. In the faint light from the house, his jaw was strong, determined. There was no trace of the gangly kid she’d known in middle school. And if she’d ever been sure of any one thing, it was this: Julia Lancaster loved Sam Ryder.

  “So, you’ll call Eliza first thing tomorrow?”

  Again, his worry for her made her smile. “You mean today. Yes, and you’ll be first to know what she says.”

  Sam pecked her once more on the lips. “Good night, Jules.”

  She slipped inside and turned the lock on the door, holding her breath. To her relief, the house was still and heavy with slumber.

  Through the front window, she watched Sam trot down the yard and slip effortlessly into the darkness. It occurred to her he’d done the same thing to her heart.

  Fifteen Ginny

  There was nothing like having supportive parents, but one person’s idea of supportive was another’s of suffocating.

  “Huh. That’s not the welcome I was expecting.” Her mother stood at the front door with her arms crossed.

  “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t expecting you to drop in.”

  “Well, maybe if I’d been invited, I wouldn’t have to drop in.”

  Ginny was exhausted. It was Sunday afternoon, and what she wanted to do was close the door and crawl back under the covers, but that plan was scratched.

  “Since I’m here, why don’t you give me the tour.”

  “Mom. This was one of your summer rental listings. You know this place inside and out.”

  “Not since you moved in.” Her mother stood on tiptoe, peering over her shoulder and into the cottage. “It’d be nice to see what you’ve done with the place.” As if that were decided, her mother sailed around her and into the living area. Ginny pushed the door closed.

  “Well?”

  Her mother glanced around, frowning. “You haven’t done anything with it.”

  “Exactly. I’ve been here—what—a handful of days? And I’ve been working nonstop.”

  Her mother pursed her lips. “Still. I’d have thought you’d get a throw pillow. Or something.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you. It’s not like I’ve been lying on the beach all week.” Which was exactly how she’d hoped to spend her first day off since arriving. Right after the nap her mother had taken her hostage.

  But her mother had already moved on to the fridge and was peering at the contents inside. “Honey, there’s nothing in here but wine and cheese. And this.” She pulled out a half-eaten container of hummus and scowled at it. “This expires in a week.”

  Ginny plucked it from her hand, closed the fridge, and stood in front of it. “Mom, you stopped packing my lunches twenty years ago. I’m a grown-up.”

  Nina raised one plucked eyebrow and shrugged. “Semantics.” Then she showed herself to the couch. “So, what’s new?”

  There was no chance Ginny was getting her day back, so she collapsed into the rocking chair. “Well, since you’ve seen I haven’t red
ecorated the place yet, allow me to break the news that I have also neglected to procure a new fiancé.”

  Her mother did not find this funny. “Oh, please.” And then, under her breath, “It’s only been a week.” But her expression grew serious. “I actually came by with some news. We’ve got an opportunity to land a new listing. A big one. It could really help the future of the Feldman Agency, if we get it.”

  Ginny thought back to all the properties Sheila had shown her at the office that week. There were plenty, but many of them were summer rentals, like her own cottage, or smaller starter homes without big price tags. As Sheila told it, the competing agencies in town, Sotheby’s International and the Cramer Group, had become better known as the “luxury property” brokerages, scooping up all the high-end listings and courting out-of-town clients and urbanites, leaving Ginny’s parents’ agency the smaller family homes and seasonal lake rentals. It was enough for them to keep their head above water, but if they wanted to survive, they needed to land some of those coveted larger listings. “Where is it?” she asked.

  Nina’s face fell. “It’s a sad story, I’m afraid, but business is business. Remember that beautiful estate up on Timber Lane?”

  “White Pines?”

  Her mother nodded. “The owners died quite suddenly a couple of weeks ago.”

  Ginny recalled her mother mentioning something about a recent tragic accident in town, but between her job loss, the breakup, and her move across the country, the details were foggy. “I didn’t realize it was White Pines.” What she didn’t add was “That’s where Wendell used to work.”

  “Yes. Apparently, an out-of-town family member has been assigned to manage the property, and she wants to sell. Her lawyer, Geoffrey Banks, reached out to us yesterday. I haven’t dared to tell your father yet; no use getting him all worked up in his present condition. But I had a meeting with Sheila this morning, and we both think we have a good chance. If you take it.”

  “Me?” Ginny was both surprised and touched. “But I just got back. Nobody here knows me anymore.”

  Nina was already shaking her head. “Honey, you’re young and sharp. And you’re fresh out of the Chicago commercial market. This will be smooth sailing for you. Besides, from what Mr. Banks said, this aunt is all business and straight off a plane from London.” She gestured to herself and smiled sadly. “Just look at me. Between your father’s health and the business struggling, I don’t think I can handle much more. I hardly look the part of luxury real estate tycoon.”

  “Mom, stop, you’re doing fine.” True, her mother looked older and more tired than Ginny could recall seeing her. And Ginny was not used to seeing her in leisure attire, like the wide-legged capri pants and shapeless sweatshirt she sported today. But she was still a vital and competent woman who knew the industry in town better than anyone. “Mom, I’ll do whatever you and Dad need me to do. But White Pines is going to be a big fish to land. What do you think it’ll go for?”

  Her mother swallowed. “Close to ten.”

  “Million.”

  “Yes. Million. She wants to subdivide it and has a developer lined up.”

  “What a shame,” Ginny thought out loud. “That gorgeous estate chopped up.” When she and Wendell had been together, before he left for the National Guard, Ginny had visited White Pines plenty of times to drop Wendell off or pick him up from work. It was a magical property, complete with all the natural elements: a small private lake, fields and forest. Being up there had always felt like stepping into a different world, and she knew how much Wendell had loved it.

  “I hate the thought of it, too,” Nina agreed. “But regardless how we feel, someone is going to get the listing. Why not us? Besides, it could save our agency.”

  Ginny sank back into the couch cushions. Working the local residential estate market was a far cry from the commercial work she’d done in the city. Back in Chicago, ten million and above wasn’t out of this world for some of the downtown buildings she’d handled for developers and investors. But here, in a small New England town, it was a high-stakes opportunity. “I’ll do it. We should probably get started today.”

  Her mother let out a hoot. “Really? That would be wonderful, honey. Because she’s asked us to come by tomorrow. And we need to present our most polished marketing plan if we’re going to land this.” She lowered her voice. “Apparently, Sotheby’s and Cramer already met with her. But don’t worry! The last interview always stays freshest in the mind.”

  Ginny forced a smile. She wanted to do this for her parents because of all they had done for her over the years. And to help them out of the hole their family business was in that they’d been too afraid to tell her about. She had a lot of guilt over that one. Staying so far away for so long, she’d lost touch with the two people who should’ve meant most to her.

  But she also felt a flicker of hope in her chest for herself. Her whole life had fallen apart in the last few months, and this was her chance. To distract herself. To brush herself off and get back in the game. Whatever you wanted to call it.

  * * *

  Ginny threw on jeans, swept her hair up in a quick ponytail, and grabbed her laptop. The Feldman Agency was closed on Sundays, outside of appointments to show properties, so no one would be seeing her. On her way over, she began crafting her pitch. All she knew of this out-of-town relative now in charge of White Pines was her name and that she’d flown in from London. As such, Ginny figured it was fair to assume she wouldn’t know Saybrook or the market as well as a local. She’d probably also want to secure a quick sale and wipe her hands of it. The first thing Ginny would do was look up Candace Lancaster and try to put together a profile. The next thing she’d need to do was learn all she could about White Pines. She didn’t have much time.

  She’d been at the office for three hours when she couldn’t ignore the growling in her stomach anymore. Nina had been right: she needed more in her fridge. Ginny glanced at the messy desk in front of her. Thanks to what she could glean from Google and town property records, she’d already filled several pages of notes about both the seller and the property. Candace Lancaster was a wealth management consultant for a private outfit in London, and her net worth was nothing to sneeze at. Ginny would have to bring her best game. As far as White Pines went, she had no idea what Candace would be asking, but in the case of Connecticut real estate, the sum of the parts was often more valuable than the whole, and if Candace wanted to subdivide, Ginny would need to see surveys and maps of the proposed division to properly assess the lots and come up with a final figure. There was still much to do, but she was starving.

  The Feldman Agency was smack dab in the village center, bookended by the hardware store and the post office and directly across the street from Audrey’s Café. Ginny glanced over there now, longingly. She hadn’t exactly been eating well or taking great care of herself lately; a salad was what she needed, but a sandwich was what she wanted. As she slung her bag over her shoulder, she wondered if they still made that mouthwatering Reuben she and her dad used to split.

  The second she walked through the door, Audrey spied her. “Wow! I heard you were coming back, but I didn’t believe it.” Audrey had been Ginny’s childhood friend’s older sister. Alice had moved to New York, but Audrey had stayed on and opened a family business with her husband. Now, she pulled off her apron and hurried around from behind the counter to give her a big hug.

  “Back for the summer,” Ginny said, aware that others in line for lunch were watching them curiously. “You look great!” Audrey was only four years older but had been Ginny’s idol when they were growing up. She was the big sister Ginny never had, the one who taught her how to apply mascara, the first one to play spin the bottle, the one whose training bra Alice and Ginny had secretly tried on in a fit of giggles when they snooped in her closet. Now, though she looked no different than Ginny, the chasm between them remained: Audrey was a happily married woman with two kids and a successful business. Who, despite all that, managed to look
fit, put together, and happy. “I have to confess, I’m here for the Reuben. Please tell me it’s still on the menu.”

  Audrey laughed. “It is, but even if it weren’t, I’d make you one.” She went back around the counter and sent Ginny’s order to the kitchen with a cute teenager in a matching striped apron. “I was so sorry to hear about your dad,” she said quietly.

  “Thanks. He’s doing really well, thankfully. But I’m trying to help out with the business.”

  “Yeah, three realtors in one small town is tough. But your folks are the best. I’m sure you’ll help them keep it going.”

  Ginny smiled tightly. So the word was apparently out that Feldman Agency was struggling. And that she was the one swooping in to help. Hopefully.

  She thanked Audrey and stepped aside for the growing line while she waited for her order. She had a few new texts: two from work friends in Chicago, asking how she was settling in. And one from Thomas. Her heart caught in her chest. Despite the fact that she really did not miss Thomas, being alone all of a sudden was hard. A few times since arriving, she’d almost thought of calling him. She opened his message, wondering if he felt the same. “Forgot to ask if you have my stone mortar and pestle? I can’t find it anywhere in the boxes I’ve unpacked.”

  Ginny scowled. Leave it to Thomas to inquire about his stupid mortar and pestle. This was something she did not miss about Thomas. His fussiness for routine, from making homemade guacamole every single Friday night after work to taking inventory of his kitchen tools mere days after she’d left. No, she had not lugged that heavy thing all the way home to Connecticut. And she doubted she’d tell him if she had. Clearly, Thomas was doing just fine, mortar aside. She was stuffing her phone back irritably back in her bag when someone called out her order: “Reuben sandwich.”

  “Here!” Ginny said, waving her hand. She stepped forward just as a guy behind her did so and said, “That’s me!” at the same time.

  Ginny turned at the same moment he did. It was Wendell Combs.