Wish Upon a Shell Read online

  This sea was calm this morning, almost lake-like. The colors were an amazing shade of turquoise blended to a brilliant green. A low dune ran the length of the inn’s property and beyond. A young man was starting to put up a few rows of lounge chairs and umbrellas on the gently sloping beach.

  He sipped his coffee, which was an unusually good blend. He hadn’t expected that from a hotel room coffeemaker. The only downside was the yellow mug emblazoned with Belle Island Inn.

  He’d been glad to see that the woman checking him in yesterday had on a light blue Belle Island Inn shirt. So yellow wasn’t the color for everything here. Thank goodness.

  But the mug still bugged him. Stupid yellow mug.

  He watched as a bare chested, barefoot runner jogged past. An older lady with a bright, floral cover-up strolled along with a red bucket. She stopped every so often, plucked a shell, look at it carefully to see if it made the cut, then dropped it into her pail or tossed it back on the beach.

  They had a purpose.

  Exercise.

  Shells.

  What was he going to do for a month at the beach with no work to do? What had he been thinking? He’d picked a sleepy little island in southern Florida in the off-season, after the snowbirds had left to go back to their various states, after spring break rush was over, before summer season began.

  So, really? What was he going to do with himself, well, besides walk everywhere? He’d been careful to choose a place where he could get around without a car. That was a necessity now.

  He opened the door and stepped out on the balcony. There wasn’t much privacy, but it did hold a comfortable-looking pair of bar-height chairs and a table. He sat on one of the chairs, pleased how it put him high enough he wasn’t just staring into the balcony railing. The outdoor furniture design showed a thoughtfulness he appreciated. The planks of the balcony were a worn gray color, the paint smoothed into almost non-existence by the sand and wind. After sitting outside for a few minutes, his skin felt vaguely sticky. He’d forgotten about that, the syrupy feeling of the sea air and humidity when the breeze wasn’t chasing it away.

  He sat on the balcony for he didn’t know how long. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just… sat. He finished his coffee and headed inside to go downstairs and grab some breakfast.

  After that, he didn’t know what the heck he was going to do with his day. And the twenty-something days after that…

  * * *

  Julie’s on-again-off-again worker had actually shown up today and was handling the morning customers with Nancy. Julie always liked to have at least two morning workers plus Nancy on the weekends and during the summer months, but occasionally she would treat herself to a morning off after her deliveries during the slow season.

  She decided to walk from her cottage to the inn and see if she could persuade Susan to play hooky for a bit and take a long beach walk. They hadn’t done that in a very long time.

  She closed the door to her small cottage. It wasn’t on the beach, of course, she’d never be able to afford that. It was a tiny, two bedroom home inland, not that the island was wide. The widest point of the island was only a mile across so you were never very far from the beach or the bayside. She actually had a small view of the bay from the widow’s walk the previous owner had built on the corner of the back of the house. She’d placed a reading chair and a small table in that cozy space, and it had quickly become her favorite spot in her house.

  And the best thing about the cottage? It was hers. All hers. She’d worked long and hard to buy it and the bakery. Five years ago she’d finally been able to scrape together a down payment and had found her home. It was serendipity as far as she was concerned. She never wanted to leave, it was her dream home. Oh, it had needed a lot of work. A lot of work. Which was why she’d even been able to afford it. She’d done most of the renovations herself, refinishing the old wooden plank floors and painting walls. Jamie’s friend Harry—who seemed to know everything there was to know about repairs—had helped her with some updated plumbing. She’d cleared the overgrown yard and planted a small flower garden. She’d painted the outside of the house a creamy yellow color with white shutters and doors. She was proud of how all the hard work she’d put into the cottage had turned it into a real home.

  She would never have imagined when she stepped onto Belle Island eighteen years ago that she would come this far. Well, to be honest, the bank owned most of her home and the bakery, but she faithfully paid both loans off each month.

  Landing on Belle Island had been such a fortuitous coincidence. She’d landed here because she’d bought a bus ticket the day she turned eighteen and it had taken her this far, to Belle Island, so she’d gotten off the bus with her one small bag and twenty dollars to her name. She’d slept that night against a storage building near the beach. Tally found her the next morning and gave her a job at Magic Cafe and a room in that very storage building.

  Julie had been so sure her life would fall apart like it always had, bursting into flames and taking her with it down some dark pathway. But day by day, Tally’s kindness and her own hard work had taken her out of her nightmare life and into the peaceful existence she craved now, one that allowed for beach walks with her friend.

  Julie climbed the stairs from the beach to the large deck that spread across the back of the inn. She headed inside to find Susan.

  “Hi, Jules.” Jamie stood behind the reception desk.

  “Hey, Jamie. I’m looking for your mom. Trying to steal her away for a walk.”

  “Good idea. She’s in the kitchen, I think.”

  “How have you been?” Julie stopped at the desk. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I’ve been busy. Trying to spruce up the inn before the busy season. Did Mom tell you that we’ve booked a couple of weddings? Hoping that works out. Coming up soon we even have a full inn for a weekend due to a party. Busy time for off-season.”

  “Does sound busy.” Julie knew Susan and Jamie worked long hours keeping the inn running. A few times in the past it had looked like they would lose it, but somehow they always managed to squeak by. Julie didn’t know what Susan would do without the inn. It almost seemed like the inn was part of Susan, like the bakery was part of her, and Magic Cafe was part of Tally.

  Julie headed to the kitchen and found Susan standing at a counter with a stack of vendor orders and a calculator in front of her. “How about you take a break from that and come walk with me on the beach?”

  “I really should figure this out. I think we got shorted on our order.” Susan pushed back a lock of curly red hair, the same shade of golden red that her son sported, only Susan’s had a strand or two of gray threaded through it.

  “Just a little break? It will do you good. You’ll come back all refreshed. Probably find the error right away,” Julie wheedled.

  Dorothy, a woman who had worked at the inn since before Julie arrived on the island, came into the kitchen. She usually worked the reception desk and probably knew more about the inn than any other person. She’d worked for Jamie’s uncle, who had owned the inn before Susan. Dorothy had been employed here since she’d been a young girl, and she was probably in her fifties now. “Jamie said you’re taking Susan on a walk. Great idea. She could use the break.”

  Susan grinned. “Okay, okay. You all win. A short one. It will do me good to get out of here.”

  They strolled through the lobby and out onto the deck. “Oh, wait. Let me go back and get my sunglasses. Meet you on the beach.”

  “Okay, but don’t get sucked back into work.” Julie grinned.

  “I won’t. Probably.”

  Julie stood at the bottom of the deck stairs and kicked off her sandals. A lone man approached with what Julie could only call dress shorts and a collared knit shirt that looked like it had been ironed, for pete’s sake. She looked down at her worn shorts and her t-shirt that proclaimed Belle Island the friendliest town on the gulf, complete with a strawberry stain on the front from the sc
ones she’d made this morning. She scooted to one side of the stairs for him to pass. As she did, she looked up into the most startling blue eyes she’d ever seen. Eyes filled to their depths with… what? Sadness? Loneliness? Her breath caught for a moment before she told herself to quit being a ninny bug, as Tally would say when she thought someone was being silly.

  “Excuse me.” He nodded at her and climbed the stairs.

  She turned to glance over her shoulder. Goosebumps ran up her arms and she rubbed them quickly. Susan hurried down the stairs and looked at her closely. “You okay?”

  “Yes. I…” Julie shook her head.

  “Did you meet Mr. Newman?”

  “Who?”

  “The man who just passed you.”

  “Yes. No. I mean… who is he?”

  “Reed Newman. Our month-long visitor.”

  “He’s—well, he needs to find some beach clothes for one thing.” That was what she chose to say to her friend about this man? His clothes?

  “He’s from Seattle. Not sure if he’s here on business or pleasure. Pleasure, I’d guess. He mentioned he didn’t have a car, so it’s not like he can travel into Sarasota for work or anything.”

  “His eyes…” Julie stared up the empty stairway.

  “They are sad, aren’t they? He looks a little lost.”

  “I don’t know. There was just something about him.” Julie turned to her friend. “I’m being foolish. Let’s go on our walk.”

  The two friends linked arms and headed down the beach.

  * * *

  Reed walked into the lobby, then couldn’t help himself. He turned around and walked back onto the deck. The woman in the stained t-shirt and the inn owner were walking down the beach, arm-in-arm in that comfortable way women who had been friends for a long time had with each other.

  The stained-shirt woman had the most remarkable green eyes, emerald almost. Her skin had been tanned and her face flushed from the heat or a light sunburn, he didn’t know. She’d had bare feet with pink toenails, and her fingernails matched. Her long chestnut hair was pulled back into some kind of messy knot.

  She looked charming.

  Where had the word charming come from, and why the heck did he remember every darn detail about her?

  * * *

  Tally looked up towards the end of the lunch shift and saw her friend Paul and his new wife Josephine coming into the cafe. She waved them over to a beachside table. Paul walked up and wrapped his strong arms around her. “Missed you, Tally.”

  “Did you have a good time in Comfort Crossing?” Tally hugged him back and smiled at Josephine.

  “We did. We got more of Josephine’s things. We’re going to get her all moved in here sooner or later.” Paul laughed.

  “Of course, Paul would have to clear out another closet and more space for me if I brought even one more item.” Josephine’s words sounded like she was chiding, but her tone was full of love.

  “Jo, I’d buy a whole new house if that’s what it takes.”

  “I love your house. It’s quaint and right on the beach by the lighthouse. Who could want more?”

  “I’ll never want more. I have you.” Paul leaned over and kissed his bride.

  “Okay, okay, you two. This whole perfect couple thing.” Tally grinned. Paul had come to town about twenty-five years ago. He’d opened a gallery in town, the man was a genius with his paints. They’d become friends while they both struggled to keep their businesses going in hard times. Now, thank goodness, times were easier. Barring a disaster like a hurricane coming through, they’d hopefully have some smooth sailing. She winced at the metaphor.

  Paul travelled often for gallery shows around the states. Then after one trip, he’d come back and said he was marrying the love of his life, the woman he’d wanted to marry over fifty years ago. They’d found their way back to each other and gotten married. Tally had traveled to Comfort Crossing to go to their wedding, and she couldn’t be happier for her friend. Now Josephine had moved to Belle Island. She was a lovely woman and perfect for Paul as far as Tally could tell. At least she’d never seen Paul this happy and content.

  Paul held out a chair for Josephine then took the chair beside her. “Can you join us?”

  Tally looked around to see how many customers were still left. “I can. For a bit.” She sank into a chair across from the couple. They placed their orders and sat quietly chatting.

  “Josephine got to see her grandniece and nephew, Bella and Gil. You remember them? You met them at the wedding. We invited them to come down and visit soon. Bella is married now. Gil may come visit with his girlfriend, Madeline.”

  “I keep expecting to hear about wedding bells for Gil and Madeline, but so far no news. They do make the perfect couple, though.” Josephine rested her hand on Paul’s arm.

  “What’s new here on Belle Island?” Paul leaned back in his chair.

  “Same old, same old. Not that I’m complaining. It’s been nice to have this brief lull between the busy tourist seasons. Traffic has died down since the snowbirds all headed back north. Love the business they bring, just not the traffic.”

  “Always did like this time of year on the island. And October. The weather is warm, not hot. The island isn’t crowded. Slow time of the year for the gallery, but that’s okay.”

  “I saw on the town website you have some new photographer you’re showing at the gallery this summer.”

  “I do. His name is Hunt. He did a series of photos of the destruction along the gulf coast from the last few hurricanes. It’s just fascinating. His girlfriend, Keely—she owns Magnolia Cafe up in Comfort Crossing, you’d like her—she wrote up descriptions for each photo he’s showing. It’s all very moving. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  “Sounds wonderful. I’ll be sure to come by and see it.”

  Later, Tally watched her friend lead his new wife out of the cafe. He was holding Josephine’s hand as if he’d never let go, not that she blamed him. Family. You should always appreciate your time with them. Every single moment.

  Chapter 4

  Reed sat on the comfortable chair on the suite’s balcony. The breeze teased his hair, reminding him he need a haircut. He’d have to find a barber on this tiny island who could give him the short, businessman cut he preferred. Of course, that was going to involve finding a barber he could walk to or he’d have to figure out the trolley system… or maybe he should rent a bike for the month. He’d check into that. Something to finally put on his to-do list. He was pretty sure people left their to-do lists at home when they went on vacation, but he felt slightly naked without his list on his phone. He pulled out his cell and started typing. Get haircut. Rent bike. There, that felt better.

  He set down his phone and paged through some brochures the young man at the desk had given him about things to do on the island. He didn’t know why he called the man young, he was probably close to his own age, but somehow Reed always felt years older than his actual age. Years older.

  He opened another brochure and it flipped open to a photo of a lighthouse. He read the blurb about the legend of Lighthouse Point.

  * * *

  Years ago, when the island had first been settled, Margaret Belle’s husband, a local fisherman, had been lost as sea. Margaret went to Lighthouse Point on Belle Island and threw a shell into the ocean as she made a wish for her husband to come home safely. Six months to the day he showed up, rescued by another fishing boat. From then on, many residents and visitors to the island have gone to Lighthouse Point, thrown their shells into the sea while making their wishes, and their wishes—big and small—have come true.

  Visit Lighthouse Point on Belle Island and make your own wish come true!

  * * *

  He didn’t believe in that kind of folklore, but he thought it might be interesting to walk the beach to the lighthouse. It looked like it was only a couple of miles or so down the beach from here. He stood up, went into his room and tossed the brochures on the bed.

  He had
a mission. A purpose. At least for today.

  He’d go see the lighthouse.

  * * *

  Julie walked down the beach toward the lighthouse. This time of year there weren’t many people out on Lighthouse Point, but in the summer the island historical society opened up the lighthouse to tours. The parking lot on the nearby public beach would be filled with cars, the beach filled with tourists. For now, she could enjoy the peace and quiet.

  Julie didn’t believe in the town legend about wishes and Lighthouse Point, but she did dearly love the beach near it. It had been the first beach she’d ever set foot on in her life, all those years ago when she first came to the island.

  She walked along the water’s edge, letting the gentle waves caress her feet as they rolled onto shore, one after the other. The mid-afternoon sun glinted off the waves and broke into sparkling diamonds across the sea. A light breeze blew her hair away from her shoulders, and she wished she’d thought to tie it back before her walk.

  It had been a busy day at The Sweet Shoppe, and she’d met with Heidi, the girl Tally had sent her way. Heidi was eager to start working and was coming early tomorrow morning. It would be nice to have more help. She couldn’t continuing doing everything—baking, deliveries, waiting tables, cleaning, marketing, ordering supplies, and every other little job that came up.

  Julie wondered if she should try extending store hours in the summer. Right now the bakery closed at two in the afternoon. She wasn’t sure they’d get enough customers to justify the cost of staying open later in the day, but she was often tempted to try. Maybe if this new girl worked out she could give it a trial run, but for now she’d stick with the two o’clock closing. There, a decision was made, at least for now.