I looked at the six hundred year old live oaks surrounding the place.
“You’re overrun with squirrels,” I said.
“The one problem Charles was never able to solve,” she said. “Now we’re about to implode from them. Do you have any suggestions?”
“The branches are giving them access. They’ve worked their way into the eaves. Your attic is crawling with them.”
“You’ve heard them?”
“I have.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “In better times I’d offer you a refund.”
I held up my hand. “Not necessary.”
She smiled again. “You’re very kind.”
I motioned to the porch. “Let’s sit a minute.”
She cocked her head slightly, as if trying to decode my meaning.
I ignored her expression and climbed the steps and sat down facing her. Beth stood her ground.
“What are you up to, Mr. Creed?”
“I’m thinking about your offer.”
“You’re joking.”
“Probably.”
She moved closer. “You’d consider it?”
“I
We were quiet a moment. I must have had a curious expression on my face because she said, “What on earth are you thinking?”
I laughed. “I’m trying to picture Rachel as a waitress.”
Beth shared my laugh. She climbed the steps and sat beside me, then thought better of it, and scooted her bottom a proper distance away, just beyond the top of the steps. She allowed her legs to dangle off the porch, and removed her gloves.
She said, “It’s easier picturing Rachel as a waitress than you as a cook.”
“A cook and maintenance man,” I said.
“That too,” she said.
She laughed some more, and let it fade into a chuckle, and then we were silent again. She seemed to be regarding me in a different way, and I could feel her eyes studying my profile. When I turned toward her she quickly lowered her eyes.
“I can’t pay much,” she said.
“How bad are things with the bank?”
Her eyes began to well up. She bit her lip. “I’m on my last gasp.”
I stood. “Give me a couple minutes.”
I walked down the steps and circled the house, checking the foundation. I studied the overhang of the roof long enough to find two places where squirrels were getting into the attic. There were probably others. The thing about squirrels, they attract other pests, like mice and snakes. Who knew what might be living in that old attic?
The Seaside had a private wooden walkway that I followed down to the beach. The footboards were okay, but the handrails needed replacing. At the end of the walkway, there was a charming sitting area with two benches. Just beyond, a dozen steps led to the type of hard-packed sand you find on Atlantic coast beaches.
Today the sea action was moderate. Frothy waves tumbled onto the shore, dumping tiny white coquina shells that wiggled their way into the wet sand. I heard a noise, looked up, and saw a group of sea gulls traveling a straight line just beyond the surf, scanning the waves like supermarket shoppers checking the shelves for their favorite food items.
A sudden gust kicked up from the beach. I closed my eyes and inhaled the salty scent. When I opened them I noticed what might have been sea turtle tracks leading from a nearby sand dune to the water. I viewed the B&B from the back.
It was a gorgeous old home, probably the nicest bed and breakfast I’d ever seen. But a proper restoration would require a serious injection of cash. I wondered if the place could ever turn a profit and decided the answer was no. Nevertheless, I found myself drawn to stay there and do what I could to help. It was almost as though the old home had singled me out and expected me to report to duty. And there was something else. That feeling of serenity I’d experienced the first night back. It seemed to have come with the sudden breeze off the water. I looked around to see if anything had recently entered my space: a bird, a bit of Spanish moss, some insects…but nothing seemed out of place. I turned back to the beach, but there were no answers to be found, in fact the beach was deserted, save for two women in big hats, wading in the far distance. I watched them walking away for a few moments, and suddenly the feeling was gone. I searched again for any clue that something was moving out of my immediate space, but all I came up with was that the wind had died down. I looked out to sea a minute, waiting for another gust. When it came, there was no feeling of serenity with it.
Perhaps I was going mad. Maybe Rachel’s insanity was contagious.
I walked back to the front yard and found Beth where I’d left her.
