Sunshine Beach by Wendy Wax Page B

nostrils was pure nostalgia and not present-day reality. His eyes were clouded with memory.
    Doubling back, he led them through the changing rooms, which were lined with wooden lockers and cubbies as well as the saunas and massage room. Dustin climbed up on an antique scale, his weight barely tilting the bar that held the weights. Maddie, Avery, and Nikki abandoned subtlety to pinch their noses shut. Kyra, who couldn’t spare the free hand from her zoom lens, appeared to be holding her breath.
    They left the building more quickly than they’d entered, dragging in lungfuls of fresh salt air as the Realtor locked the doors behind them. Without fanfare he led them back along the concrete walkway. Maddie held tight to Dustin’s hand, careful not to let him get too close to the jungle-height grasses and bushes, afraid of what might be living in or slithering through them.
    The cottages were built of cinder block and looked far more utilitarian than whimsical despite the once-bright colors they’d been painted and the signs carved with beachy monikers. The units were locked, the windows boarded up. Roofs were swathed in a patchwork of tarps. Tropical vegetation had grown around, between, and up cottage walls.
    Maddie turned, trying to get her bearings. “Is that Pass-a-Grille Way behind that wall of trees?”
    â€œYes,” John said. “And that’s Thirty-first Avenue beyondall that overgrowth.” He pointed to their right. “That’s where guests parked their cars. There’s a public beach access at the end of it.”
    He turned, taking the pathway that bisected the cottages and explaining the mix of one- and two-bedroom units, how they’d been situated and landscaped to provide maximum privacy in a space that was decidedly minimal. At the Happy Crab, which didn’t look at all happy, he inserted a key into the lock and jiggled it. As he put his shoulder to the door, they heard the sound of small things scurrying inside.
    â€œI hope to hell they’re running and hiding and not getting ready to jump us,” Nikki muttered. “I don’t do rodents.”
    â€œI’m with you on that one,” Maddie said as the Realtor finally managed to unstick the swollen wood door. Settling Dustin on her hip, she squinched her eyes partly shut so as not to see any small rodent bodies or scurrying cockroaches and followed Nikki and Avery inside.
    The cottage smelled as bad, or possibly worse, than the main building, having less room for the smells to dissipate. It had its own small living room with one large window, a small eat-in kitchenette, and a profusely tiled bathroom. The front door had a jalousie window inset. Living room and bedroom windows were fitted with air conditioners and short blackout curtains. The floors appeared to be the same sand-colored terrazzo as the main building; it was hard to be sure given the layers of sand and grit that covered them. The furnishings hadn’t fared any better and were coated in layers of dirt, dust, and grime. Signs of water damage were everywhere.
    Kyra shot video of all of it and them. Dustin sneezed and clung to her neck. For the first time Maddie could remember, he did not ask to be put down.
    Outside, Franklin locked the door behind them. “Excuse me for just a moment,” he said moving toward the northern end of the walkway, which appeared to end at a huge hibiscus bush.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Maddie asked as they huddled outside the Not-So-Happy Crab.
    â€œIt’s interesting,” Avery said. “I mean, all the buildings were pretty utilitarian in the first place and they’re in horrible shape, but it’s a prime example of mid-twentieth-century architecture. And anything midcentury modern is really hot right now.”
    â€œYou’re kidding, right?” Nikki whispered even though the Realtor couldn’t possibly overhear them. “This place would be perfect for a remake