“You think so?”
“Yeah, it would. I bet there are teachers there that you and Dad had. They probably know all your secrets.” Brystol bumped her shoulder into her mom’s and winked.
Brooklyn blushed. The last thing she wanted was for her daughter to hear stories of how teachers had caught her and Austin in one too many compromising situations.
“Who was the better student?” Brystol asked, saving her mother from any potential humiliation.
“Your dad was a good student, but I was better. Your dad’s focus was on fishing. He just wanted to be out on the boat or in the middle of the stream fly-fishing. He came to school every day, though, but soon as the bell rang, it was time to go. I remember when the sun would shine, he’d beg me to skip school so we could go out on his boat or go hiking. We never did, though. Your grandparents would’ve been so mad.”
Brystol stood, reached for her mother’s hand, and helped pull her to her feet. Together, they walked a few feet toward the water. Brooklyn shivered as a wave washed over her bare feet but didn’t care once she saw her daughter bend to pick up a shell. Within seconds, Brystol’s hand had a sandy pile stacked up.
“Nonnie will love these,” she said.
“She does love her shells,” Brooklyn added as she searched for her own.
“Where did Dad take you on dates?”
Brooklyn sighed. “Cape Harbor is small, but we made the most of it. Louie’s pizza parlor is downtown—most of the time we went there. Sometimes, when our parents would allow it, we’d drive to Anacortes, or we’d go to Skagit Valley. One spring we went to the tulip festival with Nonnie—it was so beautiful—and before Grandpa Skip passed away, we sailed out to the islands. Nonnie and I ran in the lavender fields while your dad and grandpa fished.”
“Yeah, but what would you do? Did Dad, like, buy you flowers?”
A crouched-down Brooklyn smiled. She pulled a dead starfish from the sand and brushed it off before standing upright and handing it to Brystol. “He did. And he paid for dinner, the movies, all the normal stuff. I paid too because it’s important to be equal. We hung out with our friends. Bowie, Jason, Graham and Grady, Monroe and sometimes her sister Mila, and your aunt Rennie. When we were older than you are now, we’d go bowling, to the movies, or we’d just go hang out at the river and jump off rocks. A lot of the time we would hang out on the beach out in front of Nonnie’s.”
They continued to walk down the beach, scouring for shells. When their pockets were full, and they finally noticed their surroundings, they had wandered quite a way from the inn.
“Hey, Mom.”
“What’s up?” Brooklyn asked.
Brystol pointed toward the house they were in front of. “It doesn’t look like it has beach access, but it’s for sale.”
Brooklyn stared at the house they were standing in front of. The seawall seemed to limit the owner’s access to the beach, which wasn’t a big issue, but could be when it came time to sell it. That thought gave her pause. Was she really considering buying a house to flip it? She was, and she loved the idea. From what she could see, it needed work, but nothing she couldn’t tackle—of course, the inside could be a different story. “Is this some kind of hint?”
Her daughter giggled.
“We have a few months before school starts; we’ll figure it out together.”
“Do you know what I find funny about you and Dad?”
“Nope, tell me.”
“That he fished all the time, and you worked for the fish market. Fish really smells, so you guys must’ve been . . .” Brystol pinched her nose and waved her hand in front of her face.
Brooklyn laughed. “Grandma hated that I worked there, but it was fun. If we stay, maybe you should get a job down there.”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’ll work for you or Nonnie. I think it would be fun to work at the inn.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it would be, and Nonnie would love having you there. Come on.” She motioned toward the direction they needed to head. “Work waits.”
“Or we play hooky?”
Brooklyn leaned down and kissed her daughter on her forehead. Playing hooky sounded amazing. The idea of spending the rest of the day on the beach with her daughter was more enticing than painting. Normally, she loved work. It kept her mind busy, and that was something she needed to do right now.
“Let me get this project started, and then we’ll take a day to explore the area.”
“Deal!”
They trudged through the sand and found Carly waiting for them on the deck. Brystol ran up the stairs that led to the shared backyard of the main house and inn. By the time Brooklyn reached her daughter and Carly, they had the shells spread out on the picnic table.