Page 36 of Shifting Sands

We stop for iced tea at a corner café and sit under a striped umbrella, watching a lizard crawl up the wooden railing. Amiya scrolls through her phone and snaps pictures.

“So,” she says after a while, “what’s it really like, living in the mountains? You talk about Balsam Ridge like it’s some sort of wonderland.”

I smile as I sip my tea. “It’s beautiful—quiet in a way that gets under your skin. It’s the kind of peace you can feel in your bones, the kind you won’t find in any crowded city. I love it.”

She tilts her head and replies, “Yeah, that’s how I feel about Sandcastle Cove. When Avie and Leia first moved up here, I thought it was just a cute but boring little vacation spot. I was so used to the hustle and bustle of Atlanta. But the more I visitedto spend time with them, the more I fell in love with the quiet. I realized it wasn’t boring at all.”

“Right? I grew up in a house that backed right up to the woods. I’d wake up to birdsong and sometimes the rustle of deer moving through the trees. We’d get bears too—mostly at night, sniffing around for garbage. It’s peaceful for sure, but it’s a wild kind of peace, you know?”

Amiya nods, listening.

“In fall, the leaves light up like fire. Not just red and orange, but deep red, burgundy, like wine almost. The air gets sharp and sweet, and everything smells like woodsmoke and apples. And in the winter? It’s snow and stars as far as the eye can see.”

She leans her chin on her hand. “That honestly sounds … kind of magical.”

“It is. But it’s also muddy boots and power outages and long drives to get groceries. The people are a little nosy. Everybody knows your business before you do. Especially my friends. They have this incredible ability to read you and see between the lines.”

“So, basically like Sandcastle Cove, just with better hiking and fall foliage?”

“Exactly.”

She laughs and narrows her eyes. “Are you homesick already?”

I pause for a moment. “Not all the time. It’s just that being away from the office every day leaves me with a lot of time alone with my thoughts.”

Amiya nods, allowing the silence to linger for a moment.

Then she pushes back her chair. “All right. We’ll have none of that overthinking nonsense today. Let’s go explore this island.”

We bike toward Old Baldy, the wise-looking, weathered lighthouse. The path curves through maritime forest, with sunlight flickering through the leaves like candlelight. We parkthe bikes and climb the narrow staircase to the top, laughing between puffing breaths.

At the peak, we look out over the island. Sand dunes roll toward the ocean, marshes stretch inland, and the horizon melts into a haze of blue.

“It’s a little like the mountains,” I say, squinting into the distance.

“How so?”

“The stillness. The way it makes you feel like you’re standing on top of the world for a minute.”

She bumps my shoulder.

I smile.

We don’t stay long—there’s still more to explore. We find a tiny turtle nest tucked near the trees, and she explains that Avie runs the local sanctuary and how she tags along sometimes to watch hatchlings shuffle through the sand to the ocean.

Then we walk down to the beach, where the sand is soft and white, and we kick off our shoes and walk barefoot, jeans rolled up, laughing as we dodge cold waves.

It’s a slow, sun-warmed kind of afternoon. No agenda. No rush. Just the freedom of wheels on a path and the kind of new friendship that feels like home.

We catch the late afternoon ferry, our bikes returned and hair salty from the sea breeze. The boat rocks gently as we find seats near the front this time, legs tired but spirits light.

Amiya sighs, leaning her head back. “I needed this.”

“Me too,” I say, watching the water.

“You want to come to my house? I could whip us up some cocktails and a charcuterie board. We could hang out and watch trashy television, and you can meet Lennon when he gets off work.”

The question catches me off guard.

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