Page 80 of The Beachgoers
thirty
— Now —
AT LONG LAST, THE CAT’S out of the bag.
As Elsa wipes down the kitchen counters, she knows. It’s done. Her life-changing secret is out. Unveiled. Disclosed. Everyone she cares about is aware that she’s unable to open her Ocean Star Inn.
Truth is, though, it reallydidn’tchange her life. Because here she is, like always. Cleaning up at day’s end. Dimming the lights. Straightening a thin starfish propped in the inn’s windows. Wearing her leopard-print caftan and making a cup of tea. Oh, it felt good to take off her jumpsuit and slip on this silky cover-up. To know the worst is behind her. She looks at the wall clock trimmed in old fisherman’s rope. It’s just after midnight—early enough to relax in the living room before turning in.
Everyone’s gone. The night is quiet now. Her big old cottage is, too. Eerily so, after all the good times of the evening. It’s so quiet, Elsa can almost imagine echoes of the earlier talk, the laughter. In the living room, she walks to the mantel and sees her happiness jar there. Cliff’s white seagull feather leans against the glass. He certainly nailed it, all right. She got that coveted feather in her cap with tonight’s vow renewal ceremony.
Moving to her nautical-striped couch and sipping her tea, Elsa’s still in awe of Kyle and Lauren. Because they did it. They pulled it off. Strange how it feels like years have gone by—not weeks—since Elsa offered to fix Kyle’s marriage certificate typo with a ceremony redo.Just to right a little wrong, she’d assured him.
Oh, how that one suggestion took them all to places unfathomable.
But they all survived, and probably for the better. Well,exceptfor her and Celia. Elsa’s not sure just where life will take them as they wrangle red tape and postpone the inn opening to the spring. At least Celia has the baby to keep her busy. But somehow, sitting alone tonight, Elsa feels sad. After being so immersed in renovating her inn and preparing to open its doors, life will get really quiet.
Quiet, like it is right now.
Sitting on the sofa, she curls her legs beneath her and sips her tea.
Not for long, though. Minutes later, there’s a surprising knock at her front door.
“Who could that be at this hour?” she asks herself while setting down her teacup. Once she gets to the hallway, she switches on her Mason-jar chandelier at the front entranceway and fusses with her caftan. Finally, she opens the door and squints out into the darkness.
* * *
“Well. Here we are again,” Elsa says, opening the screen door, too, so her guest can step inside. “Did you forget something?”
When her visitor answers, she finds she actually can’t take her eyes off of him. He has her riveted as he tells her there’s one thing he never had a chance to do earlier. And as he steps inside and takes her hand, the unexpected happens. She goes from being alone… to being with him.
And she’s glad for that.
Glad for someone to tell her they’ve had a beautiful night, with a beautiful woman.
Glad, actually, to hear him say he saw tears in her eyes when she made her announcement earlier.
Glad for him to step closer and say everything will be okay. And not to worry.
Glad for him to reach over and touch her hair, her face.
It’s enough for her to tear up again. Because it feels like she’s been fighting them all day. All week. Ever since opening that damn certified letter that stopped her life in its tracks.
The thing is? Maybe she’s tired of fighting tears all alone. Maybe it feels good to have someone with her. To not have to put up a strong solitary front.
So she whispers to him that she’s glad he’s here. And as he leans close, it feels nice. Feels nice to have him kiss her cheek. To tenderly hold her face. To run his hands back through her hair. To lose herself inthismoment and let go of all the others.
Which Elsa does—gladly.
Right there.
Her softly lit Mason-jar chandelier throws shadows in the hall. Shadows all around—on the check-in desk; on the moon-phase grandfather clock beside it; up the staircase with the painted mural on each step.
And right there in those shadows, he kisses her like… well, like it means something. There’s no mistaking that, not as Elsa leans back against the hallway wall and sighs into that kiss, all while keeping it going. While taking what she surprisingly needs tonight.
Right there, in the shadows of her big old cottage. With the sweet salt air wafting through the windows.
Right there, Elsa does it. While he cradles her face and their kiss deepens, Elsa reaches over andclosesthe front door—all without stopping that kiss.
