“You talk too much,” Paul said. “Have I told you that before?”
“Yeah. Plenty of times. Probably won’t be the last either.”
“Why do I know you’re right about that? Come on. Let’s get back to work.”
Paul paid the bill, and when they got back in his truck, the first thing Chase did was drop open the glove box and rummage around. “Hey, you really do still have it.” He held up the calico scallop shell. “You weren’t lying.”
He wasn’t even sure why he’d kept the creamy-white shell with the maroon blotches. It wasn’t all that pretty. The inscription read,
If you don’t give up, you still have a chance.
—Jack Ma
“I never lie.”
“But you broke a promise.”
“That was totally different.” Paul revved the engine and pulled away from the curb. “I never lied about anything. I promised something that was out of my control.” I didn’t have a choice. But the words from inside that shell tumbled through his mind, hitting him as strong today as it had the day of that meeting. Was there always a chance? “You can put that back where you found it, man.”
Chase tossed the shell back into the glove box.
Paul turned up the radio, trying to drown out the feeling that the real purpose behind that shell hadn’t been fulfilled. I’ll just hang on to the keepsake awhile longer.
9
Maeve was up to her ankles in ocean water when she spotted something in the sand that looked extra special.
Could it really be light-pink sea glass? Most sea-glass charts placed pink at the rare end of the spectrum. Her own experience had been the same. She bent down and plucked the glass from the rushing water. The smooth piece was slippery between her fingers. She held it up, admiring the pink hue. Very subtle against the sky, but in the sand it appeared even more pink. The tide slurped the water back out. Just beyond her foot, she spotted another one.
What were the odds of finding two pink pieces of sea glass at the same time in the same place? She’d been doing this a lot of years, and this had never happened before. She rushed to pick it up before the ocean could reclaim it. She snagged it right as the water rushed back, then she looked at them both, holding one in each hand.
A roll of laughter came from deep within her. Twins! She shuffled the sea glass in her palms. Twins, indeed. Together and strong. That had to be it. She could picture two matching baby girls sitting in the sandy water in ruffled-bottom bathing suits under Kimmy’s watchful eye, coordinating frilled hats protecting their delicate skin from the sun’s rays.
Excited by her find, she forged on. By the time she got back home, the rest of the town was finally beginning to awaken.
Inside, she placed the two pieces of sea glass on a coaster on the living room table for safekeeping. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d do with them, but she’d give them to Kimmy at some point.
Maeve filled a bowl with kibble for Methuselah and took it outside. She sat down, watching him crunch through his breakfast. Her thoughts turned to Kimmy again and her babies. Funny how she still saw Kimmy as a child even after all these years.
Maeve and Jarvis had tried—they had—but when it didn’t happen, they’d decided that was God’s will and that was okay too. They focused on their relationship, and it was a good one. But then she’d never thought she’d be alone for so long, and now—now there was no one to pick up where she’d leave off. Not that it was all that important, but it was something. Her something.
She loved this beach.
All this change bothered her. She wanted this place to live on the way it was now for many years to come. Who would tend this stretch of shoreline when she couldn’t anymore?
From here she could see that the tide was almost all the way out. There were probably starfish sunning there right now. At that moment, she thought she saw a dolphin fin. She lifted the binoculars she kept on the deck and scanned the water.
Tug had given her the high-powered binoculars the Christmas after Jarvis died. He’d said that Jarvis had been researching what kind to buy for her. She didn’t know if that was true or if Tug had just been trying to be nice, but she’d really enjoyed them all these years.
She turned the adjustment on the binoculars, bringing things into focus.
Beautiful, miraculous, awe inspiring. Even though she couldn’t see every detail, she marveled at what she knew was happening beneath the surface.
The waves lapped out a little farther. Like her, the tide kept showing up.
Movement down the beach caught her attention.
Light sparkled from the shiny aluminum pole of a colorful umbrella. Her new neighbors were back on the beach.
She watched for a good long while, taking joy in their activity. The children raced to the water’s edge, then back up to show Amanda what they’d found. Shells. Had to be shells. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Delight danced in her heart at the possibility of them taking up her special hobby.
She adjusted the focus on the binoculars and watched again.
A pang of guilt for spying like a common Peeping Tom crept upon her. She lowered the binoculars and set them aside.
“Now isn’t this rude? What has come over me?”
Methuselah looked up at her and gave her a half bark.
“That all you have to say?”
He cocked his head.
“You’ll never be The Wife.”
Methuselah seemed to take exception to the accusation, turning and walking down the ramp to the lower level.
She pushed herself up from the comfortable chair and smeared sunscreen on her arms and face. She went into her sunroom, where she kept all the best finds, and pulled a few special items from her desk drawer. Before going over to the beach, she tossed a ball for
