Once again, the car behind Brooklyn honked. This time, the driver laid on the horn for longer, making his impatience known. When she glanced in her rearview mirror, she could see the man flipping her off. She threw her hand up in the air, but he wouldn’t be able to see her with the tinted windows of her SUV. She let off the brake pedal slowly, purposely. She had a problem with overly aggressive drivers and had encountered quite a few in her travels.
Thankfully, her car looked like any of the other tourist vehicles in town with her out-of-state Florida plates. Driving down the road, she saw plates from Oregon, California, Texas, and as far as North Carolina. The longer she drove, the more her head was on a swivel, taking everything in. Memories flooded her senses, making her smile. Many times throughout her life she had wished things were different and wondered what it would be like to go back in time and make different choices. She didn’t care about altering her future, only changing one day. That was all she wanted to do. Make a better decision, say the right things, and not give up so easily.
When Cape Harbor High came into view, she pulled over. Very few students milled around, some sitting under the large oak trees, while others walked down the steps and turned in whatever direction they needed to go home. From here, her old house was approximately five blocks away. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind she could still walk home with her eyes closed.
Sitting in the passenger seat, her daughter stirred. Brooklyn peered over and thought about waking her up but drove on. Carly was waiting for them to arrive and no doubt pacing the floor.
Back in the day, the Driftwood Inn was the hot spot of the town. Aside from the view that the guest rooms offered of the magnificent scenery, the ballroom alone was a sight to behold with the gold tear-dropped diamond chandelier that hung in the center of the room. Brooklyn always imagined she was Cinderella at the ball when she stood there. The ballroom itself held every type of party, weddings and receptions, school dances, and conference luncheons. In that room and under the beautiful light fixture, men had bent down on one knee to propose. It was where countless best men and maids of honor had stood, toasting their friends. It was where couples had fallen in love. And for Brooklyn, it was where she thought she’d have her wedding reception, dancing in the arms of the man she once loved.
Brooklyn pulled onto the crumbling driveway. Potholes, chunks of missing pavement, and weeds had taken over the half moon–shaped parking area. She put her SUV into park. Her finger hesitated on the push-start button, and she wondered if she had just entered the twilight zone. Nothing looked the same as she remembered. She finally pressed the button to shut off her vehicle and opened her car door, instantly stepping into a hole small enough that it could easily be ignored or missed if you were in a hurry but large enough to do some damage to an ankle if you were not paying attention. Brooklyn came around the back side of her car and stood there, staring at the darkened windows. In all her years coming here, she’d never seen the inn like this—drab, dreary, without life—and the carriage house attached to the inn wasn’t faring much better. She scanned the area and noticed that the landscaping was fine but far from the pristine vista it once was. The effervescence of the inn was gone, and she had a good idea as to why.
Brystol opened the car door, having woken up, and slid out of the passenger seat with her arms stretching toward the sky. Mom and daughter glanced at each other for a second before Brooklyn turned her attention back to the inn, which seemed out of place for the oceanfront property. When Carly had called and asked her to come and renovate the inn, she had assumed she meant new paint, fixtures, and tapestries. She hadn’t thought the inn would need a new life, but the cobwebs, overgrown shrubs, and chipped paint led Brooklyn to believe otherwise. The disarray she was witnessing was nothing like the prestige she had known the inn to have, and she was afraid of what the inside looked like.
“Did Nonnie close the inn?” she asked her daughter. When she spoke to Carly, it was always about Brystol and nothing more. It pained Brooklyn to ask too many questions about the people and life she once had in Cape Harbor, and she knew it hurt Carly as well.
Brystol shrugged and rubbed her eyes, clearly not fully awake.
“Do people stay here when you visit?” Brooklyn tried again.