Page 1 of Shifting Sands

Brandee

Ipull my truck up to the charming little coastal cottage and put it in park. As I open the door, Aunt Ida comes sweeping down the steps to greet me. I meet her on the sidewalk, and she wraps me in a warm hug.

“You made it,” she coos as she places her hands on my shoulders and steps back, looking me up and down. “My, you have grown into a beauty.”

Ida Mae is my father’s youngest sister. She married my uncle and moved from Balsam Ridge, Tennessee, to Sandcastle Cove, North Carolina, while she was pregnant with my cousin Andrew. Fourteen years later, they welcomed another child—a surprise baby—daughter, Ashlee. Ida Mae and Uncle Andy were married for thirty-nine years before she lost him to a heart attack six years ago.

“You were in Tennessee last Christmas,” I remind her as we make our way over to my truck to gather my bags.

“I know, and you get prettier every time I see you.”

I pull the suitcase from the back seat and set it on the road, then reach for my tote.

“Is this truck new?” Aunt Ida asks.

“Yes, ma’am. I bought it this summer.”

“It’s huge,” she muses.

“I know, but she sure handles those mountain roads and the snow up on Misty Mountain better than my last car,” I say.

Balsam Ridge is a small town located in a mountain valley in the Great Smoky Mountains. I work as an executive assistant to the mayor, Isley Tuttle, who is also my best friend from childhood. Her husband, Langford Tuttle, owns Misty Mountain Ranch and Ski Area—a luxury ski resort. Langford employs me part-time to assist him with some administrative tasks at the resort.

“I appreciate Isley and Langford allowing you the time away. I know this is his busy season,” Ida says as we carry my belongings into her home.

“It was no problem at all. Isley is actually taking the kids to Everette’s for the holidays so they can see their grandparents. Langford and Tuck will be flying out to be with them in a few weeks, and I can do all my work remotely.”

“How is Asa doing?” Ida asks.

Isley’s father, Asa Paysour, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a few years ago. He and his wife moved to Arizona to live with Everette—Isley’s brother—and his family. However, earlier this year, Asa was moved to a memory care facility nearby. Therefore, Isley decided that she and her little ones would spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with them. Langford and his son from his first marriage, Tucker, stayed behind to ensure the ski season got off to a good start, but they will join Isley and the girls for Christmas and New Year’s.

“His time is getting short and Isley felt she needed to be there for him and her mom this year,” I reply.

“Time is a thief. That’s why I’m so thankful you’re here.”

Ashlee and her husband live in New Hampshire. Recently, she delivered twins who were born seven weeks premature. They also have a three-year-old son. Aunt Ida is planning to visit during the holidays to meet her new granddaughters and help Ashlee and her husband with their toddler while the babies are still in the NICU.

Originally, Aunt Ida intended to visit after the New Year when the twins were born, and I was going to house- and pet-sit for her then. However, when she called to see if I could come earlier, I thought,Why not?

With Isley out of town for the holidays, it would be nice to escape the bitter cold and snow and enjoy the milder temperatures and ocean air. So, I packed up my truck, and here I am, ready to spend the next eight weeks cuddling a couple of Persian kittens and enjoying the island.

“I hate you’re going to be down here alone for the holidays.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I’m going to enjoy the vacation,” I assure her.

“Where is that wayward brother of mine these days?” she asks.

“He and Karen are in Europe somewhere. They’re doing a Mediterranean cruise. You know them—they’re always off on some adventure.”

My dad married Karen exactly two months after my mother passed away in an auto accident. I was in high school at the time, and understandably, it was a sore spot in our relationship. I was angry, and when they decided to move to her hometown in Georgia during my senior year, I chose to live with the Paysours instead. For the next five years, I didn’t see him much, but Aunt Ida helped me understand that some men struggled to cope with loss. My father’s grief was too overwhelming for him, so he clung to the first thing that came along—one of my mother’s friends. I still carry some bitterness about it, but over the years, I’velearned that life’s too short to stay angry. Although I don’t see them often, our relationship has improved.

“A couple of my girlfriends are planning to come down for a long weekend. Is that okay?” I ask.

“Absolutely. You’re welcome to have any guests you’d like.”

She makes us a cup of tea while I unpack my belongings, and then she introduces me to her babies—Snowflake, a beautiful blue-eyed white female Persian cat, and Felix, a gray male Persian with striking golden eyes. Snowflake eyes me curiously and begrudgingly allows me to pet her while Felix seems to be playing hard to get.

“Just like a man,” I remark as he peeks at me from his hiding spot behind the living room drapes.

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