table where Ben had started a jigsaw puzzle.
She picked up the box lid and examined the picture. He’d chosen a puzzle of ocean and sand. The only focal point was a tiny buoy almost lost in the water. No wonder most of it was still undone.
The sofa was white rattan and the cushions were covered in a beachy, turquoise pattern, but with a couple of pillows properly arranged, it was comfy. Juli tucked her legs up beneath her and fidgeted with the pillows again. She tried to read, but the words failed to keep her attention. After several pages, she gave up. Second day of marriage. It would take time to settle in. To feel at home.
By the time she felt at home, it would be over and she’d be gone. In the meantime, what would she do?
Bored people found distractions to amuse themselves and often made bad choices, wealthy or poor. One look at the magazines on the rack at the grocery store could tell you that.
Many times, stuck at the cash register during a lull, Juli had imagined what she could do with the free time, if she had extra money. Boredom, and the ability to do something with it, had seemed like a luxury.
She laid her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes. What had she dreamed of while waiting for customers? Hobbies? And something else—a GED.
It looked like she was going to have lots of free time now, for a while, anyway. It was up to her figure out how to fill it and stay out of trouble.
****
“I’d like to take a walk on the beach if you’ll come along,” she told Ben after they returned from supper at a local restaurant.
“Sure, let’s walk into the sunset.”
Emerald Isle lay east to west versus the usual eastern coastline that ran north-south.
A woman who looked like excellent grandma material was seated in a rocker on the renter’s side of the porch. She had pouffy, graying hair and was swathed in yards of pink terrycloth.
They removed their sandals at the end of the crossover. “Can we leave our shoes here? I mean, other people use this walkway. Will the shoes be safe?”
“It’s fine. Only the renters will be using our crosswalk.” Ben continued, “The renters will assume we’re also renters if you don’t say otherwise. Not trying to hide anything—or I am, but if the toilet stops up or a light bulb needs changing they are less willing to leave a voicemail with the management company if they know they can knock on the owner’s door. Don’t put personal touches on the porch. Looks too permanent. Gives us away.”
They struggled through the thick drifts of dry sand pushed up around the base of the steep stairs. When they reached firmer sand, she hooked her arm in his. He looked pleased.
“I thought you owned only the half you live in. You own both sides?”
“I used to rent out both sides and stayed here only a few weeks during the year. I moved here permanently last year. For most of the business interests I have, I’ve either sold or stepped out of active management.”
“Businesses? Like what?”
A child ran along the edge of the water, dodging the reach of the waves. A woman with a white furry dog passed them, the dog straining the leash and setting the pace.
“Like the gallery. I was hands-on until recently. It has always been my favorite, my first love, business-wise. I turned my interest over to Luke. Over the years, we’ve partnered in a number of efforts.”
The breeze blowing onshore gentled as the sun sank lower. The salt and seawater blended with the air and smelled of something elemental, perhaps of life itself. It touched a core within her. It steadied her.
“You two were, are, very close. I guess you’ve noticed he’s not thrilled about me.”
“Not you. It’s me he’s worried about. He’s having trouble letting go.”
“Letting you live your own life?”
“No, I mean accepting I’m leaving his—that I’m dying.”
Her stomach clenched. The steadiness she’d felt now seemed suspect. “You seem so well. Tired some, but who
She picked up the box lid and examined the picture. He’d chosen a puzzle of ocean and sand. The only focal point was a tiny buoy almost lost in the water. No wonder most of it was still undone.
The sofa was white rattan and the cushions were covered in a beachy, turquoise pattern, but with a couple of pillows properly arranged, it was comfy. Juli tucked her legs up beneath her and fidgeted with the pillows again. She tried to read, but the words failed to keep her attention. After several pages, she gave up. Second day of marriage. It would take time to settle in. To feel at home.
By the time she felt at home, it would be over and she’d be gone. In the meantime, what would she do?
Bored people found distractions to amuse themselves and often made bad choices, wealthy or poor. One look at the magazines on the rack at the grocery store could tell you that.
Many times, stuck at the cash register during a lull, Juli had imagined what she could do with the free time, if she had extra money. Boredom, and the ability to do something with it, had seemed like a luxury.
She laid her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes. What had she dreamed of while waiting for customers? Hobbies? And something else—a GED.
It looked like she was going to have lots of free time now, for a while, anyway. It was up to her figure out how to fill it and stay out of trouble.
****
“I’d like to take a walk on the beach if you’ll come along,” she told Ben after they returned from supper at a local restaurant.
“Sure, let’s walk into the sunset.”
Emerald Isle lay east to west versus the usual eastern coastline that ran north-south.
A woman who looked like excellent grandma material was seated in a rocker on the renter’s side of the porch. She had pouffy, graying hair and was swathed in yards of pink terrycloth.
They removed their sandals at the end of the crossover. “Can we leave our shoes here? I mean, other people use this walkway. Will the shoes be safe?”
“It’s fine. Only the renters will be using our crosswalk.” Ben continued, “The renters will assume we’re also renters if you don’t say otherwise. Not trying to hide anything—or I am, but if the toilet stops up or a light bulb needs changing they are less willing to leave a voicemail with the management company if they know they can knock on the owner’s door. Don’t put personal touches on the porch. Looks too permanent. Gives us away.”
They struggled through the thick drifts of dry sand pushed up around the base of the steep stairs. When they reached firmer sand, she hooked her arm in his. He looked pleased.
“I thought you owned only the half you live in. You own both sides?”
“I used to rent out both sides and stayed here only a few weeks during the year. I moved here permanently last year. For most of the business interests I have, I’ve either sold or stepped out of active management.”
“Businesses? Like what?”
A child ran along the edge of the water, dodging the reach of the waves. A woman with a white furry dog passed them, the dog straining the leash and setting the pace.
“Like the gallery. I was hands-on until recently. It has always been my favorite, my first love, business-wise. I turned my interest over to Luke. Over the years, we’ve partnered in a number of efforts.”
The breeze blowing onshore gentled as the sun sank lower. The salt and seawater blended with the air and smelled of something elemental, perhaps of life itself. It touched a core within her. It steadied her.
“You two were, are, very close. I guess you’ve noticed he’s not thrilled about me.”
“Not you. It’s me he’s worried about. He’s having trouble letting go.”
“Letting you live your own life?”
“No, I mean accepting I’m leaving his—that I’m dying.”
Her stomach clenched. The steadiness she’d felt now seemed suspect. “You seem so well. Tired some, but who
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