Summer Love at the Beach (Summer Instalove)

nervous I was during my first few weeks there. Speaking to men almost always made me

twitchy. I knew it was ridiculous, but I couldn’t help it. Luckily, everyone at the firm had been extra nice to me – especially when I showed them how to make their documents and

proposals look much nicer.

I studied graphic design and photography, and was delighted that the skills transferred so

easily to legal documents. Most of them had to be crisp and corporate, but there was no

reason why they couldn’t have a stunning cover.

Before I knew it, I was their graphic designer, as well as a general assistant. I took photos for their weekly newsletter, and wrote most of the copy. I redesigned the stationery, and

created graphic design guidelines for all of the documentation.

Brendan was incredibly proud of me, and it felt wonderful to be a real member of his team

instead of just his kid sister who was there for the summer.

“Hey, Becca, you’re doused in sunscreen, right?” Julie called down from the house.

Instead of hollering back to her, I just gave her a thumbs up. She nodded and ducked back inside.

It was sweet, my brother’s wife took on a bit of a big sister role with me. She often helped

me out of awkward situations, and it was nice having someone check in with me.

Interacting with all of the men at work had also helped quite a lot. I didn’t think I’d ever be the outgoing sort, but at least I was usually able to speak without making a fool of myself.

I got up and stretched a little, figuring that my tank top and shorts were good enough for a

brisk walk along the shore. Covering more of my skin was a habit, but I needed a little sun,

and there weren’t many people around.

Getting more exercise was definitely on my list of things to do over the next week and a

half. I spent the first three days reading on the patio, clearing my mind. But now I should

find some sort of healthy routine.

Slipping off my shoes and socks, I carried them as I began to walk ankle deep through the

waves. The soothing sound of the waves guided my steps in a smooth, slow rhythm. The

lake was so deep it never quite warmed up enough to swim in for very long, but it was

refreshing on hot days.

Since I was farther back from the enormous beach houses now, I could take a better look.

There was a row of at least thirty, well spread apart, each of them just a one minute walk

from their door to the water.

Most of them were painted white, or soft gray, some of them with brightly colored shutters.

I’d been here a few times over the years, and the marine blue house had always been my