by Susan Boles
As we make our way to the elevators, she goes on. "Maybe you're right and I'm just being overly suspicious. But it seems like there's something off about him."
The door dings opens and we board. I mash the button for the eighteenth floor and lean against the wall looking at her.
“I think you’re being a bit over the top. I mean, people do come here from places further north than Mississippi.” I point out.
She sighs and leans against the wall next to me crossing her arms. “Maybe I’ll be in a better frame of mind after a good night of sleep.”
The doors open for our floor and we exit, enter our condo and proceeded to fall into bed.
Unfortunately, my thoughts wouldn’t settle and I stare at the ceiling for half the night. It did seem odd that the random stranger we’d met on the road was in the same condo as us. But things like that happen. Right? For heaven sake. I wished I could turn my brain off for the next several hours. Some of Dixie’s suspicions seemed to have transferred themselves to me in the quiet of the late night.
Things always seem less suspicious in the bright light of day.
CHAPTER THREE
Early the next morning, beneath a brightly shining sun, loaded down with beach towels, beach bags and a small cooler with drinks and snacks, Dixie and I make our way to the sugar white sand.
As we juggle everything in our arms, I think maybe we should've invested in one of those nice rolling wagons with the big wheels I see other people using. It sure beats carrying all this stuff. Thank goodness I still ride my bicycle regularly. Otherwise this trek across the sand might have taken a bigger toll.
When the gorgeous sand starts burning the fire out of my feet, I began a hop-skip walk and ignore Dixie’s amused look. She’s always been able to walk on hot surfaces with no visible effect. I think I have a pair of flip flops in my beach bag, but don’t want to waste time standing still in the burning sand to dig around and find them.
Before the soles of my feet actually burst into flames, we locate the set of chairs with a sign proclaiming LAMBERT on it and settle in to enjoy the morning.
"I sure do wish we'd been able to get front row seats." I complain as I ignore the desire to take a bottle of water from the cooler and pour it over my feet for relief. Or maybe just hold the cold plastic bottle against them. That wouldn’t waste the water. As I contemplate it for a minute I decide that would be kind of gross. And probably heat up the water to boiling point.
I settle back in my chair and focus on my pet peeve. "I can't see a blame thing from here besides the rear end of that man standing up in the row in front of me.
"Shush!" Dixie says, anxiously watching the man in question. "He might hear you."
"Well surely to goodness he knows he's blocking the view of anybody behind him standing up like that." I try to always be nice. Really. I do. Sometimes it’s extra hard though.
Like right now.
When all I want is to have as clear a view as possible of the sand, ocean and sky from second row seats. Is that too much to ask? Maybe this guy comes to the beach all the time and it’s lost its magic for him.
Not for me. Never for me.
"I don't know why you've got a bee in your bonnet this morning, but you're messing up my day with it." Dixie huffs, snapping me out of my mean thoughts.
I settle back in my chair. Dixie is right. I am acting like a spoiled child. We are on this sandy beach, feet away from the Gulf with the sun shining in a cloudless blue sky.
I resolve to be thankful for my blessings.
I spray sunblock all over, uncap a bottle of water from the cooler, then adjust my sunglasses and floppy hat, securing it with the hat pin I'd found at an antique store years ago. Lying back, I let the sun's heat draw the venom from my body.
I am just beginning to doze when a voice brings me fully awake.
"Well. Don't you two look just like a couple of teenagers lying here in the sun?"
Alex Landers.
Looking at him from behind the darkness of my sunglasses, I notice his shirtless chest shows the muscles of someone who works out regularly. In addition, he sure has a good tan going already for somebody from as far north as Boston. And who'd only gotten here yesterday. Feeling vulnerable stretched out like this on the chair; I sit up, placing my feet firmly on the sand. Better.
"Good morning." I say. "And you must need your eyes examined. I appreciate the compliment, but I'm pretty sure no one would mistake me and Dixie for teenagers."
"Speak for yourself." Dixie says from behind me. "I get mistaken for a teenager all the time."
Alex laughs. "There. Dixie knows how to accept a compliment."
I hear Dixie shift in her chair. I know from the tone of her voice when she answered Alex that she still has reservations about him.
I grab my floppy hat as it threatens to sail off my head despite my hat pin. The breeze is the first one I've felt most of the morning so I adjust my hat and the pin and try to relax and appreciate a good thing.
Again, I regret that we don't have front row seats where not only would we have a great view of the water, but we'd also be catching breezes off the water all day.
As though reading my mind, Alex says. "I'm heading back in for the day. I've got some things to take care of this afternoon. I have two seats reserved up front and, when I saw the two of you back here, I thought you might want to move up there for the afternoon."
I jump up instantly. "You don't have to ask me twice." Gathering up my towel and beach bag, I notice Dixie sitting still as stone in her chair. "Come on, girl. We just got an upgrade."
With obvious reluctance, Dixie begins gathering up her belongings.
"Don't pay any attention to her." I say to Alex. "I don't know what's happened to her manners, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart."
Alex laughs. "No worries." With a wave of his hand, he walked across the sand, back toward the condo.
"I think he's hitting on you." Dixie says in a tight voice.
I shrug. "What if he is? I'm single and over twenty-one."
Dixie shakes her head. "That's a different attitude from you. And you're right, I'm usually encouraging you to flirt and get out more." She sighs, looking back toward the condo where Alex has disappeared. "But something seems just a bit off about him to me."
I finish gathering up my belongings. "You’ve sure got a bee in your bonnet about him. But at this point, something off or not, I'm taking the offer of a front row seat."
I give the man who’d been standing up, blocking my view of the water, a smug smile as I walk by him. My mama raised me better, but I couldn’t resist.
Settling into the chair facing the ocean with LANDERS on the tag, I sigh in contentment. "Now, this is perfect!"
Past the tips of my red painted toenails, the ocean stretches away to the horizon; and gentle waves roll lazily onto the white sand in a hypnotic sequence I’ve been longing for.
After months of turmoil following the revelation of the true gene sequencing project being conducted by my childhood friend, Vlad, at his alleged sleep study back home, sitting here soaking up the sun feels almost surreal. My tense muscles relax as all that tension begins to melt away in the warmth and salt smell.
Closing my eyes, I allow myself to wallow in the sensations.
I hear Dixie adjusting the umbrella to block the sun from her eyes and settle into the chair next to me. Ice rattles in the small cooler we brought with us stocked with water. I hear the break of the seal on a bottle and know Dixie is drinking from her bottle. Funny. The things you know without even looking. Just by the sounds they make.
I open my eyes just a bit to confirm and see her swigging from her water bottle, and looking out at the ocean. And through my squinted eyes, she does look like the teenager I’d known back in the day when we’d visited Gulf Shores together every summer.
She settles back in her chair. "Yes. This view sure beats looking at a bunch of other people standing around."
Turning to look around, she stiffens.
I open my eyes fully. Instantly alert. "What?"
Eyes turned skyward, Dixie says softly, "He's up there watching us."
"Who?" I ask, craning my neck trying to pinpoint where she is looking.
She leans back in her chair and puts on her oversized black sunglasses. "Stop staring around. He'll know we see him."
"Who the heck are you talkin' about?"
"Alex Landers. Sit back and act casual."
I watch her put a big floppy brimmed hat on her head, further obscuring her face. Like that would make a bit of difference if it really was Alex up there somewhere. He’d give us his chairs after all. Who else would be sitting here?
Ignoring Dixie's command to stop looking around, I finally spot him on a balcony at the top of the building. Not far from our own balcony if I was counting them correctly. From here he was a distant figure with dark hair blowing in the ocean breeze. I’m not sure how Dixie knows it’s Alex; but her eyesight is better than mine.
As I raise my hand to wave, Dixie reaches across the space between us and grabs my wrist. Her fingers dig in like claws.
"Don't. Wave." She hisses in a low voice. With those big black sunglasses covering her eyes and the floppy hat, she looks like some kind of assassin in a B movie.
Pulling my wrist loose, I wave. Alex waves back. "I swear Dixie Newsom; I don't know what to do with you acting so crazy." Settling back into my chair, I spray more sunblock on my legs. "He's a perfectly nice guy who seems to find me interesting."
"I'm wonderin' why that is." Dixie says, darkly, ignoring my startled glare.
“Well! I never!” I say to her. “Why wouldn’t he be interested in me?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Dixie grumbles. “I don’t mean anything against you. But it’s awfully convenient that he’s found several ways to randomly connect with us.”
I laugh. “So, you think he engineered us running out of gas just so he could meet us out on the road, then knew where we were going to be staying so he booked a condo in the same building?”
Dixie leans back in her chair. “Okay. It does sound a bit crazy when you put it like that.”
I smile.
“But I still have a bad feeling about him.” She insists.
I roll my eyes behind my sunglasses but decide not to comment.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning, as we savor biscuits and gravy for breakfast, we’re startled by a knock on the condo door.
"Who could that be?" I wonder aloud as I get up from my chair and head to the door.
"Keep the chain on!" Dixie hollers from behind me.
As I stroll down the narrow hallway leading to the front entrance to the condo, I wonder what had happened to my usually happy-go-lucky friend. I can't recall any time in the past when Dixie had taken against someone the way she'd taken against Alex Landers.
Who turned out the be the person knocking so early in the morning.
"I hope y'all are up and about." He smiles. "I wanted to ask the two of you to go to Harbor Walk Village with me this morning and look around. Then I'll buy us all some lunch."
"What a marvelous idea!" I say, opening the door far enough to let him enter. At which point I realize I've forgotten to put the chain on before opening it. But no matter, it was just Alex.
As we enter the kitchen, I take note of Dixie's sour look and distract Alex's attention. "We're having homemade biscuits and gravy for breakfast." I point to the skillet and pan on the stovetop. "There's plenty more if you're hungry."
Dixie's look gets even more sour as Alex grabbs a plate from the counter and begins dishing up breakfast. I poke her in the side, giving her a sharp look.
Alex brings his full plate to the small table in the open living/dining area. "Thanks so much. I can't remember the last time I had homemade biscuits and gravy."
"Dixie makes the best milk gravy in the world." I tell him, watching his obvious enjoyment of the meal. "My favorite is chocolate gravy. The best in the world on that one is the Grits and Gravy Cafe back home in Mercy."
Alex looks up. "Mercy?"
I laugh. "I reckon it does sound like a strange name to someone who's never heard of it. It's the town where Dixie and I grew up. And still live. It's in north Mississippi, just below Memphis, Tennessee."
Alex finishes his breakfast, takes his plate to the sink, rinses it and puts it in the dishwasher. Nice, I think.
He rubs his hands together, then says, "That breakfast was delicious, Dixie."
Dixie gives him a small smile. Not the big, friendly one I’m used to seeing all the time.
"So, how about it? Are the two of you up for a tour of Harbor Walk Village to look around and then have lunch?"
"I'm in." I say, looking over at Dixie. Who sits like a lump on a log.
"Dixie?" Alex questions.
Dixie gives the small smile again, but her voice is polite when she answers. "That's a right nice offer, Alex. But I think I'm going to spend the morning on the beach again."
Alex looks surprised.
"I'm sure you and Lily Gayle will have a big time. And y'all can tell me all about it when you get back."
What the heck? Dixie was going to let me go off alone with someone she suspected of being not quite nice?
I raise an eyebrow at Dixie and get that smile again. Accompanied by a tiny headshake that tells me Dixie isn't going to get into any details. Torn, I waver in my decision.
Maybe I should stay here with Dixie.
After all, this is the first girls’ weekend we'd managed to have in years what with Dixie always being so busy at her hair salon all the time. Just as I’m about to tell Alex I've changed my mind, Dixie chimes in.
"Y'all go on now. I'll be fine right here. I can't remember the last time I had a whole morning with nothing to do but laze on the beach." Flapping her hands at us, she says. "Shoo! Go on now."
With a final confused look at her, I follow Alex out of the condo.
Eyes on the decreasing floor numbers, I try to figure out what is going on with Dixie. She's been acting odd ever since we arrived. She doesn't like Alex. Whispers a quiet voice in my head. Moreover, he's been everywhere you are since you got here. Just like she said.
"Have you been to Harbor Walk Village before?" asks Alex, breaking me out of my troubling thoughts.
"Not in years." I say. "This is my first trip in a long time." I sigh. "Dixie's, too."
"I'm sorry she didn't want to come with us." Alex frowns. "I get the feeling she doesn't like me and I don't know what I've done to make her feel that way."
I put my hand on his arm. Hmm. Nice muscles. "Don't be offended. I don't know what in tarnation’s gotten into her. She's not usually like this."
CHAPTER FIVE
As we stand in line waiting for our turn on the dual zip line at Harbor Walk Village, I wonder how I let Alex talk me into this craziness.
"It's actually more fun at night when the rigging is lit up with the multi-colored lights." Alex says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"Great!" I answer. "Let's come back when it's dark."
He catches my arm as I turn to walk away.
"Oh no you don't." He chuckles. "I'm pretty sure I won't be able to talk you into it again."
I turn back, looking once more at the lines high over my head. And the long line of people waiting to take a turn. It couldn't be that bad if so many people wanted to do it. Right?
My vision blurs just a tiny bit thinking about how high I'll be off the ground. All while being strapped into the flimsy looking—to me—contraption.
My fear of heights rears its ugly head and laughs in my face. Mentally I gave it a left hook right between the eyes. And silently laugh as it slinks away. I've recently overcome my years long fear of driving and now it was time to get over my fear of heights.
As though sensing my determination might waver, Alex says. "So tell me. What do you do for a living in this small town in north Mississippi?"
Peeling my eyes away from the wire
s overhead, I look at Alex. "I'm a seamstress."
From the expression on his face, Alex must've been taken completely by surprise on that one. I decide to throw one more surprise his way.
"And a genealogist."
"Well, you're the first person I've met who does either of those." Raising a hand, he pushes his sunglasses up onto his forehead and squints at me. "If anyone had asked me, I would have told them that someone doing either of those things would be old and fusty."
"Hold up, now." I comment with mock anger. "Are you implying I'm old and fusty?"
Taking my hand in his, gazing into my face, he says. "Absolutely not. Nothing could be further from the truth."
As the line snakes forward a bit he says. "Tell me about your work. Where do you sell the things you sew? And, come to think of it, what do you sew?"
As the line moves slowly forward, I explain to him about my Etsy shop, the dresses and suits for Renaissance Fair attendees and reenactment groups, and how many of my customers are word of mouth.
"How clever of you to build a business that allows you to live in the little town where you grew up and still make a living."
I feel a blush crawl up my cheeks and hope he thinks it’s sunburn. "It's not that original. Lots of people are doing things like it these days."
"Yes. But you must be very good at what you do for your business to be thriving." He pauses, and then says. "And the genealogy? Is that an online business, too?"
I nod. "Yes. People find me through various genealogy groups. Again, it's mostly word of mouth."
"What's your most interesting project?" He asks. "Have you found any big scandals or unlocked any big secrets?"
Just as I finish telling him about the biggest secret that I've ever uncovered—one that had rocked my small town to the core and almost gotten me killed at the time—we were called forward for our turn on the zip line. And I realize he'd done an excellent job of distracting me from my scared thoughts.
As the attendant straps me into the seat, I regret the ice cream cone I had earlier as it tries to crawl its way back out of my stomach. I take some deep breaths, hoping to push it back down and the attendant smiles at me.