Sandcastle Beach--Includes a Bonus Novella

by Jenny Holiday

  He had told her some stuff, too. He was stressed about the restaurant. She had always thought of him as a person who had it easy. Unlike her, he wanted his family business, so all he had to do was sit back and let it happen—or so she’d always thought. But he was constantly innovating, now that she thought about it, and apparently worried over whether it was the right kind, or amount, of innovating.

  She shook her head. So weird.

  “Well, that was a nice idea Law had,” Pearl said after Benjamin peeled off at the lager house, but then she clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “What was a nice idea?”

  Pearl’s eyes darted around, giving Maya the impression that she’d said something she regretted. “Nothing. Ignore me.”

  Yeah, not happening. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, if you must know, Law had already suggested taking the Whispering Pines group on a boat ride. It was his idea for you to join and do the theater talk.” She shrugged, as if the ways of men were mysterious to her.

  Huh? That was odd. “Why didn’t he just ask me himself?” And why would he have the idea for a theater talk? Something was off here. A game of broken telephone. Pearl did not have her information right.

  They’d arrived at the bakery. “I don’t know!” Pearl said. “Maybe he was too nervous to ask you himself! You want to know my theory?” She lowered her voice and leaned in. “He fancies you!” She blew a kiss and disappeared inside the bakery.

  Whaaat? Pearl definitely did not have her information right. Maya had done a little reevaluating of her opinion on Benjamin just now, but Pearl’s theory was so absurd, she was left sputtering on the sidewalk.

  But only for a moment. She shook her head and, with it, that ridiculous notion out of her consciousness.

  Chapter Nine

  Law had spent the time between the roof incident and Karl’s Junior Achievement meeting thinking about Maya’s dad. So it was funny that when he showed up at said Junior Achievement meeting, Mr. Mehta was there.

  As was his daughter.

  He didn’t know how to act around her now. They’d spoken so openly on the roof. They’d told each other stuff. It felt awkward now, and he didn’t know what to do.

  So he fell back on the methodology employed by teenage boys since time immemorial: he ignored her. “Hi, Mr. Mehta.” He knew Maya’s dad. They were both members of the Moonflower Bay Chamber of Commerce and the Downtown Business Improvement Association.

  “Law.” Mr. Mehta stuck his hand out, and they shook.

  “Hi, Mr. Lawson,” Maya said, and Law did a double take. He was used to her calling him “Benjamin” when no one else did, but—

  “Maya. Nice to see you. Looking forward to Much Ado about Nothing. Turns out my wife is a big fan of this young man you’ve got coming to town.”

  Law turned. His dad was here, too?

  “Hey, Son.” His dad gave him a half hug, and Law tried not to panic. He’d been avoiding his parents. He knew he had to tell them about the restaurant sooner or later, but right now he was going for later. It wasn’t that he thought they would disapprove. But that was part of the problem. His dad was always saying little things about how Grandpa would be proud of whatever Law’s latest innovation was—the seasonal cocktail list, the pizza. Still, it was one thing to tell them he was opening a second place, another to tell them he was thinking of mortgaging the first to indulge himself with the second.

  But he was getting ahead of himself. He was only going to do that if he won the grant.

  Right?

  “Good evening.” Karl tapped the microphone. As the longtime proprietor of Lakeside Hardware and president of the chamber of commerce, Karl was committed to instilling entrepreneurial ambition in the younger generation. Hence his devotion to Junior Achievement—it was the economic development arm of his meddling nature. “Welcome to our special guests. As you know, our students are spending eighteen weeks planning and starting a small business. We’re early in the process, and I thought they would benefit from hearing from a panel of local entrepreneurs.” He turned to the kids. “As a special twist, I thought it would be fun for you to hear from families that each have two generations of entrepreneurs.”

  Well, that was a twist Law didn’t need right now. From the look on Maya’s face, she had not been aware that the program was going to take this format any more than Law had. She was probably here for the same reason he was: Karl had asked, and these kids were going to be the source of ten grand of the grant money that was up for grabs.

  After telling everyone about Lawson’s, A Rose by Any Other Name, and the Moonflower Bay Theater Company, Karl asked the panelists to introduce themselves.

  “It’s actually three generations of entrepreneurship in our family,” said Law’s dad, who went first. “My father founded Lawson’s Lager House in 1943. It’s been a community treasure since the day it opened, bringing a sense of consistency and tradition through the decades. If there’s one thing you can count on in this town, it’s Lawson’s Lager House.”

  Yep. Law had to look away from his dad, which meant he ended up looking at Maya. She did one of her tiny eye rolls, but it was a friendly one, like the one she’d shot him when Pearl and Eiko were entrapping them in the theater-talk-on-a-boat plan. Aimed so he alone could see it, it seemed intended to express solidarity. Which was unfamiliar coming from her. He didn’t hate it.

  After they were done and the floor opened to questions, a teenage girl came to the mic and said, “No offense to the rest of you, but as I see it, the only one who really started something from nothing, like, with no help, no family background, was you.” She pointed at Maya.

  Law chuckled. It was certainly true that he’d had the good fortune to be born into the family business. The same could be said for his dad.

  Maya’s dad had the mic, and instead of passing it to his daughter, he picked it up and said, “That’s totally true. Obviously I’m biased, but my daughter is a marvel. Every time I walk by the Moonflower Bay Theater Company and think of how she created this living, thriving, beautiful resource for this town, my heart just about bursts with pride.”

  Wow. So clearly Maya’s dad didn’t know about her financial trouble. Was Law imagining things, or did she wince a little as her father passed the mic?

  “I appreciate the sentiment,” she said, “but it’s not really true. I had a big investor early on who really believed in me.” She winked at her dad, and he beamed at her. Turning back to the questioner, she said, “Actually, if anyone fits your description, it’s my dad. He and my mom moved to this area for my mom’s job, and they didn’t know anyone. He’d worked in the floral industry, but he hadn’t owned his own store before. My mom had been in grad school for a long time, and they didn’t have much money. So the way I see it, deciding to open the store was a big risk.” Her attention swung back to her dad, and she looked a little bit overcome. “I’m really proud of him.”

  She cleared her throat and turned back to the audience. “But heck, I will take a little bit of credit. It is hard to start something from nothing, as you said, especially trying to do the arts in a small town. The more normal career path for a theater director would have been going to a big city and putting on shows at fringe festivals or trying to get into established theaters.” She sent one of her million-megawatt smiles at Karl. “But I was committed to bringing arts and culture to this town I so love, and to doing my part in contributing to its economy.”

  Oh, for God’s sake. Now she was blatantly pandering on account of the whole “community-mindedness” thing. Law turned and aimed one of those miniature eye rolls back at her. She put her hand over her mouth to shield it from everyone else and stuck her tongue out at him. He had to cough so he didn’t laugh.

  “I have a follow-up question,” said the girl from the audience, who was clearly the brains of the Junior Achievement operation. “Do you think you’ve faced extra barriers because you’re a woman and/or because you’re not white?”

&n
bsp; “Of course,” Maya said. “That doesn’t surprise you, does it?”

  The questioner, who looked like she was probably of East Asian descent, shook her head.

  “Just last week,” Maya said, “I struck up a conversation with someone in the grocery store in Grand View. First off, he assumed I was a summer person visiting from Toronto. I had to be like, ‘Nope, born and raised in the next town down the lake.’ Then when I told him I was a theater director, he asked me if I was doing Bollywood shows. Like, what? I mean, nothing against Bollywood. Bollywood’s great. But no, I’m not doing Bollywood shows.”

  Really? People were that ignorant?

  “I mean, you know, right?” Maya said to the girl. “That kind of stuff happens all the time. As for sexism, I don’t know about other industries, but I’m sorry to say it’s alive and well in the theater world. There are lots of women actors, but the other side—directing and production—is still very much an old boys’ club.” She whistled. “I could tell you some stories. But they’re not very family-friendly.”

  What the hell? Law kind of wanted to hear those stories so he could find the culprits and…well, end them, basically.

  “So what do you do?” the girl asked. “How do you handle it?”

  “Well, honestly, that’s part of why I came home after college. It’s not that this town is magically free of prejudice, but I feel like more people here know me than don’t. They know my family. Here, when I get that crap, it’s mostly—not exclusively but mostly—from tourists. But really, the answer is I keep telling myself that I belong as much as anyone.” She shrugged. “It wears you down, but you just have to keep telling yourself that.”

  Well, shit. It wasn’t like he didn’t know, intellectually, that he didn’t face the same barriers someone like Maya did. But to hear examples of it so casually brought up—Oh, here’s something that happened yesterday—was sobering.

  “My question is for Maya, too,” said the next kid, another girl, this one younger than the first. “Is it true you got Holden Hampshire to come to town?”

  “It’s true!” Maya threw her arms in the air excitedly, and a cheer worked its way through the room, even though Law would have assumed this crowd was too young to care about Holden Hampshire.

  Law was subdued through most of the rest of the panel, answering questions directed at him but keeping quiet otherwise. He wanted to talk to Maya. He wasn’t sure about what, really, just that between this panel and their surprisingly open chat on the roof, he felt like they were starting to see each other—like really see each other. When she’d rolled her eyes at him when his dad got going on the history of Lawson’s Lager House, it had felt, for a moment, like she was the only person in the world who understood. He wanted to return the favor. He wasn’t sure how. Maybe bequeath her the contested parking spaces permanently?

  After the panel was over, Law’s dad cornered him. “It’s been too long. Your mother misses you. Come for dinner soon.”

  “Your mother misses you” was Law’s dad’s way of saying that he missed his son. Too bad his dad wasn’t a jerk. It would be easier to just throw the bar on the poker table and make his bets.

  “Yeah, sorry, keeping the family legacy alive has kept me extra busy lately.” He’d been going for a joking tone but had fallen short, judging by the way his dad’s brow knit. Ah, shit. He really needed to talk to his parents. He just…didn’t want to.

  “Hey, Benjamin, you still free to discuss next week’s theater talk? Oh, wait, I’m sorry. I’m interrupting.” It was Maya. “Interrupting” on purpose, because she somehow knew he was freaking out. He could kiss her.

  Well, no. But he was grateful, was the point.

  “Yes, of course,” he said. And to his dad: “Maya and I are running a boat ride/theater talk for a group from Whispering Pines on Monday. We were going to hammer out some of the details after this panel.”

  “Which reminds me,” Maya said to her dad, “I’m going to have to bail on Monday dinner with you and Mom next week.” She kissed him on the cheek. “But I’ll see you at the Raspberry Festival?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Mehta said. “Good luck with the pop star.”

  Once they were outside the community center and walking up the sidewalk, Law said, “Thanks for the rescue.”

  “No problem. I gather you haven’t told your parents about your restaurant ambitions.”

  “I gather you haven’t told yours about your financial problems.”

  “Touché.”

  “Yeah, I haven’t told anyone but Sawyer and Jake. And you.”

  She made a silly face at him. “Well, don’t forget you told your wood supplier, but I take your point. I haven’t told anyone but Eve and Nora. And you.”

  Well. They were suddenly confidants. It was strangely gratifying. “I have to be done by five on Monday, so you can still make dinner with your parents.”

  “I know, but I need a break from them. All the talk about selling the shop is stressing me out.”

  “It’s actually kind of funny how in some ways, we have similar things going on,” Law said. “Family businesses, legacy issues with fathers.”

  “Yeah, but you want your family business.”

  “Right. And what you said in there makes me realize how…” She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, I guess how easy I have had it, relatively speaking.” So why couldn’t he just sit back and let things be easy? Run the bar and be happy with his life the way it was?

  “So what I hear you saying, Benjamin, is that you’re withdrawing from the grant competition because I deserve it more.” She side-eyed him, and just when he was starting to question if she was serious, she cracked up.

  Good. Enough confiding in each other. It was confusing. “No. That is most decidedly not what I’m saying.”

  “Good,” she said. “Because when I win, it’s going to be all the sweeter knowing that I took you down.”

  He tamped down a smile. “Keep telling yourself that.” They walked in silence until they got to the bar. “You want to come in for a glass of wine?”

  “I can’t.”

  He was more disappointed than he should have been.

  She pointed to the Moonflower Bay Monitor building. “I told Eiko I’d help her with distribution of the Raspberry Festival special edition of the paper.” She flashed him a fake-looking smile. “Because I am sooo community-minded. In fact, I sincerely hope you are making progress on your mission to find another mermaid queen, because you’re looking at the queen of community-mindedness. You, Benjamin, are not going to be able to turn a corner in this town the rest of this summer without running into me doing someone a good turn.”

  Maya hadn’t really considered, when she’d signed up to sit in the dunk tank on the Saturday of the Raspberry Festival, that Benjamin would be there, too. But of course he was. Whatever job there was to be done in service to the town or its geriatric bosses—beach cleanup, driving Pearl to one of her gaming competitions—the two of them were competing over it. If Maya was the queen of community-mindedness, Benjamin was the king. It was clear that a handful of other people were after the grant, too. But it was also clear that if you judged by who was falling over themselves to ingratiate themselves to the town council, the real contest was between her and Benjamin.

  Maya had seen a lot of Benjamin in daylight in recent weeks. It was weird. Daylight Benjamin was softer than she was used to. More sympathetic. Though maybe that was because they were starting to realize they had some stuff in common.

  It was also true that in the bright light of day, brown-haired Benjamin had little glints of auburn in his stubble, which she had never noticed before.

  “Oh, shoot!” Pearl, standing in front of the tank, frowned down at her clipboard. “I think I double-scheduled this shift.”

  “I’ll take the shift,” Maya said. “I’m already changed.”

  “I am, too.” Benjamin took his shirt off and dropped it on the ground like he had thrown the gauntlet, leaving him standing there we
aring only swim trunks and flip-flops. Hooboy.

  Usually Maya saw Benjamin without a shirt exactly once a year. That day this year would be tomorrow—the day of the sandcastle-building competition. She was ready for it. Meaning that she was prepared to beat him—they had a long-standing rivalry at the contest—but maybe also that if she was going to have to see him half-naked, she was prepared to do that tomorrow. Not today.

  She sighed, and her mind came to the same conclusion it always did on the annual See Benjamin’s Chest Day: the dude must be hauling a lot of kegs. He was surprisingly toned for someone who worked all the time. But hang on. Maybe she needed to get a little more serious about her recreational Tinder swiping if she was getting hot and bothered over Benjamin.

  “I already got Carter to cover the bar,” Benjamin said, “so I have nothing better to do.”

  A few seconds passed while he looked at her. Ugh, she had dropped the ball on their argument, struck dumb by his stupid chest. Just because he was annoying her slightly less than usual didn’t mean she had to lose her head. “I said I can do it.” There, that was back to normal.

  “But it makes more sense for me to do it.”

  “I called it first.”

  “Because you’re twelve?” he shot back.

  Pearl rapped her pencil against the edge of her clipboard. “While it’s lovely to see you both so enthusiastic, might I suggest you split the shift? And maybe save your trash talk for tomorrow?”

  “I’ll go first,” Benjamin said, but Maya had already taken off jogging toward the tank.

  He was hot on her heels. The frame of the tank was made of wood and had a little staircase in the back. She reached it before Benjamin and started to scramble up it, but she had so much momentum from the running that when she made the sharp turn to mount the stairs, her body kept moving in the original direction. Shrieking, she splayed her arms out to try to balance herself, but there was nothing to grab on to. She was going to fall and break her head. So much for back to normal with Benjamin. So much for the grant. So much for Holden Hampshire.