Page 21 of A Shore Fling
I snort. “Hardly. But I’m grateful for his help, even if he called me a disaster.”
“You’re the most capable person I know,” she defends.
“Yeah, not so much when it comes to driving a boat.”
Irene snickers. “Good point.”
“I’m gonna go so I can change out of my sea salt-crusted clothes. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“You'd better. And I’ll let you know when I hear from family members after they read the email heard round the world.”
Can’t wait.
I groan. “I’m not going to think about it tonight.”
“You shouldn’t. Enjoy your quiet. I’ll miss you.”
“I already miss you.”
“Talk soon,” she says.
“Yes, we will. Bye.” I hang up and then grab my bags, carrying them into the primary bedroom. I don’t dare shower with my dinner about to be delivered, so I change into a clean t-shirt and shorts.
The food is delivered by a teenage boy who does a double-take when I hand off a twenty for his tip.
“How much change would you like?” he asks.
“None. That’s for you.”
His eyes bulge. “Whoa. Thank you, ma’am.”
“Call me Nina, and you’re welcome. I have a feeling I’ll be ordering delivery a lot while I’m here.”
He grins, tucking the money into his front pocket. “I sure hope so.”
After I lock the door, I set everything on the kitchen table and then fall into a chair. I’m weak with hunger, and it’s been a long freaking day. I devour my salad and three pieces of pizza along with two glasses of water. When I’m finished, I feel much better, and my mishap from earlier today isn’t weighing as heavily on me. After all, I’m only human. Tomorrow is sure to be better.
CHAPTER 7
NINA
I’m awake at six a.m. as usual. I may be on vacation, but my internal clock hasn’t adjusted yet. I lie in bed, enjoying the soft golden glow peeking through the open bedroom windows. Back in New York, when my alarm goes off, I jump right up and hit the shower, so luxuriating between the crisp cotton sheets is new to me. And so is listening to birds chirp from my bed, considering my apartment is on the twelfth floor and I have central air conditioning.
After about ten minutes, I use the bathroom and change into shorts, a t-shirt, and sneakers. I decide to do some exploring and check out what’s nearby. Shoving some cash in one pocket and my phone in the other, I leave the house. There’s no way I’m walking up the hill, so I head to the right toward unexplored areas. The neighborhood is quiet at this time of the morning. The lack of people is almost as jarring as the thick crowds of pedestrians I face in the city. I can’t remember a time when I was the only soul walking down the sidewalk. It feels like I’m one of the few surviving characters in some dystopian novel.
It’s only five minutes to the first footbridge. Clusters of tall sea grass jut upward on either side, and the wooden planks creak beneath my feet as I walk over them. The view stretchingout before me is stunning. The sun’s rays add a golden hue to the sand, and the navy water is accented with pops of a lighter blueish-green with whitecaps cresting the waves.
I step down onto the beach and try to walk on the soft sand, but I feel uncoordinated. Put me in sky-high heels in the concrete jungle and I’ll walk for miles, but take me out of my environment and suddenly I’m like a fish out of water. I totter to the wet sand, and I’m relieved at how much easier it is to navigate. I head down the beach at a leisurely pace, scanning the area in front of me for seashells or interesting rocks. I’m determined to find some during my time here to bring back home as keepsakes.
My thoughts wandering, I wonder what time Travis starts his day. Is he in his office now or already out patrolling the water? Maybe he’s still in bed.No, don’t go there.
It’s okay to admit he’s attractive, but that’s as far as I can let it progress. This summer is about taking a break and figuring out what makes me happy. I don’t need to get caught up thinking about some grumpy harbormaster who couldn’t have a conversation without saying something derogatory to me. I get enough insults at work from my family members.
Havenport is my fresh start, my chance to be a version of myself that doesn’t involve my family’s history or notoriety. But I’m not even sure who I am without my work anymore. It’s become such an integral part of my life—the primary focus, really—and that’s not healthy. I need balance, and I’m determined to find it while I’m here.
On my return walk up the beach, I cross over the first footbridge I come to, which leads me to the street. This area has larger historical homes that have faced the brunt of the ocean for hundreds of years and still stand firm. A twinge of excitement stirs in my chest. History has always intrigued me. I pause in front of a white colonial with a plaque stating that this is thePalmer House, named for Sea Captain Thomas Palmer, and was built in 1768. It’s crazy to think how Maine was still part of the Massachusetts Bay Colony at that point. There’s a widow’s walk on the top of the home that has me imagining the sea captain’s wife in period clothing, day after day, watching for her husband’s ship to return from a six-month-long voyage. I can practically feel her anxiety as I think about it. Did they have children she cared for in his absence? Children she had to maintain a strong facade for even while she longed for her husband with every fiber of her being? No wonder they say Mainers are hearty people. It’s part of their ancestry that’s been passed on.
I start moving once more, enjoying the cooler early morning air. An occasional car drives past, and I pass a few other people out for their morning walk. We share hellos, and they actually smile at me. I’m so used to walking purposefully in the city with large crowds who all seem to be operating on time constraints.
