I hold the little oval to my chest, over my heart, and think about stitching it on later. “I think a Rhonda is all of those things.”
Pete wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. In the middle of the plastic chockski’s, some I’m pretty sure that have been here since the store opened, he kisses me, letting me know it’s not my name that he’s into. It’s all me.
The afternoon is filled with games at the old-school arcade, along with photos in the photo booth. When the sun sets we get ice cream on the boardwalk and lean over the railing looking out at the sea. I watch a lifeguard in red shorts and a white T-shirt close up his stand, loading his emergency supplies into a wagon with big wheels to travel over the sand.
“My grandparents met down here,” Pete says suddenly. He nods to the lifeguard. “My grandfather was a lifeguard and my mom was down here visiting with her family.”
“Really? What year was that?”
He thinks for a minute. “Probably the mid-30s.”
“Seriously? They had lifeguards then?”
He licks his chocolate ice cream, keeping it from dripping down the cone. The wind isn’t making it easy. “Yep. My mom has the pictures framed at home. He had on one of those one-piece bathing suits—the kind that looks like a wrestling tunic and my grandmother is basically wearing a shirt and a bottom that looks like shorts.”
“That’s adorable. You’ll have to show me sometime.”
I use my napkin to wipe the chocolate mint chip ice cream off my chin but Pete leans over and kisses it away instead. It’s cheesy and makes me laugh but that’s what this is all about. Being free. Standing on the boardwalk, realizing we’re not the only ones falling in love on these beaches. People have done it for decades, maybe much longer.
I snuggle against Pete’s chest and we wait for the lights on Ocean Drive to click on one at a time. Things have changed since Pete’s grandparents met here and my mother came here with her friends. But it’s obvious that other things haven’t changed at all and I’m thankful to be a part of that history.
18
Summer
Anita and I are knee-deep in party arrangements, making sure the food is ordered, the invitations have been sent out and all the little boxes on our check list are completed. Nick is busy at the front of the shop, hanging his pieces. They look amazing framed, highlighting the depth and skill he possesses.
We’re just finishing up when the swings open and my mother steps through. She looks outstanding, dressed in a flattering outfit. Her frame is tiny and it looks like she may have lost weight while she was gone. Her blonde hair is perfectly styled and I see the glint of pearl earrings.
“Mom! You’re back!” I glance at my watch. “Early! I was going to pick you up at the airport.”
“I couldn’t take one hour away from home,” she says, sweeping across the store. She takes in everything—the arrangement of books, the new arrivals. The tiny play area Anita set up in the children’s section. “We caught an earlier flight. Pete picked us up at the airport in Myrtle Beach and dropped Richard at home. I was too amped up and wanted to see you.”
She stops to give Nick a squeeze and I’ve circled the counter to throw my arms around her. We’ve had our struggles and secrets but we’ve always been close. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until she walked in the door.
She smells like home and although she’s clearly exhausted, she exudes the energy that I’m always jealous of. “The store looks fantastic. Nick, your photographs are outstanding. I can’t tell you how many compliments I heard about them while I was on the book tour.”
“Thank you,” he says, beaming with pride. So many people just see him as a jock, but this side, the artist side, is his real passion.
“All the amazingness of the store is due to Anita. I just do what she tells me to.”
My mother smiles at our cousin. “I knew I left it in good hands.”
“How was your trip? Tell us everything,” Anita says. “Especially about LA. Did you see any celebrities?”
“LA was fun—beautiful and overwhelming. The rest of the trip was the same! I’ll tell you more about it all when I’ve had a good night’s sleep and time to process it all.” She squeezes my hand. “I just wanted to stop by and see you and check my mail and office before crashing at home.”
“You just wanted to come to work.” I glance at Anita and shake my head, but Mom has already left the shop area to walk down to the back hall to her office.
I follow her and see her studying the massive amounts of letters in the cubbie system. “You have a lot of fans.”
“This tour was different than the others. A lot of passion for this case and hearing my story. People want to share what happened to them too, which I understand and I support, but after a while it gets overwhelming.”
“I can only imagine.”
She touches the smaller but substantial stack of weird letters. “I see I’ve got some haters, too.”
I laugh. “Haters? What are you, a thirteen-year-old girl?”