He nodded, considering. “You’d be missing out if you didn’t stay at the Seaside Inn. It’s quaint and homey, nothing fancy. But it’s comfortable and they’ll take real good care of you over there. Tell them I sent you.”
“Okay, sure, I’ll do that. Hank … I don’t believe I know your last name.”
“It’s Harrison. My daughter is the innkeeper. She and her husband live there, along with my granddaughter.” He pulled a small notepad from his shirt pocket, jotted down the address and handed it to her.
“Thank you. I’ll take a look.”
“You, uh, traveling alone?”
“Yep.” She watched him mull her answer over, then she trotted down the wooden stairs. Then an idea hit her. She turned back. “It just dawned on me who you remind me of. Harrison Ford!”
He scratched his head. “The Star Wars fella?”
“Yes! You really resemble him, and what a coincidence your last name is Harrison.”
He chuckled and shrugged. She waved and got in her car.
She reached for her GPS, expertly typed in the inn’s address. Ten minutes later, she was pulling into a small, packed-dirt parking lot in front of the inn. Aptly named, it sat, similar to the Old Gray Barn, with the ocean behind it and the salt-water creek across the street in front. She climbed a wooden stairway that led to a broad white wooden inn with green shutters.
She walked through the front door and into an adorable living room. Bleached wood paneling covered the walls and floors and the cotton coziness of the furniture made Leslie want to plop down with a book and read with the soothing sound of waves behind her. A wooden counter stood at one side of the room, a young woman sat behind it, flipping through a ledger.
“Hi.”
She popped up and smiled. “May I help you?”
“Yes, I’d like a room.”
She tapped into a computer. “How many nights?”
Leslie paused. “Can we take it on a night by night basis? My plans aren’t entirely set in stone.”
“Sure. It’s early in the season and we actually have several vacancies.” She took down information and Leslie handed her a credit card.
“Are you the innkeeper?”
She held out a hand. “Yes, Marianne Mueller. My husband Tom and I own the place.”
Leslie took her hand. “It’s lovely. I met your father today and he sent me over.”
A smile bloomed on her face, wiping away any trace of fatigue or stress that may have been present before. “You don’t say! In that case, I’ll give you the family discount.” She went back into the account and tapped away on her keyboard.
“Family discount? I appreciate it, but I did say, I met your father today, right?”
Marianne snickered. “A friend of my dad’s is a friend of mine … and the Seaside Inn. You just got fifteen percent off your bill.”
“Thank you very much.”
Marianne handed her a key – the old fashioned kind, not a plastic card. “Your price includes three meals a day. 8:30, 1:15 and 6:15. You’ll need to call for a reservation for the evening meal, though. Oh, and coffee on the back porch starting at 7:30, if you happen to get up that early. Follow me and I’ll take you to your room.”
Leslie hustled to keep up with the younger woman. “You feed all your guests three meals a day?” She was astounded.
“Yes, if they want. Of course, they can go out, but there’s no discount for skipped meals.”
Leslie laughed. They climbed stairs to the second floor and started down a long hallway. At the third door on the left, Marianne motioned to the lock and Leslie got to work with the key. She opened the door into a cute room with wooden floors and two open windows facing the ocean. A salt-tinted breeze made the white curtains whoosh against the light wood paneling. Two double beds separated by an antique nightstand were finished with handmade quilts. A wooden rocker with a straw braided seat sat nearby.
“You have a half bath here – a toilet and a sink,” Marianne stood in a small doorway inside the room, “but for showers, you have a couple choices. We have several hot water showers outside if you want to wear a swimsuit, or we have three showers for guests in this main house. There generally aren’t too many problems with everyone wanting them at the same time.”
In the tiny bathroom, she opened the door of a cabinet. “Towels and toiletries in here. Of course, you’re welcome to utilize the entire inn. The living room is for everyone, as well as the back porch. A boardwalk leads to the beach that’s private for inn guests. There’s a circular deck if you want to stay off the sand.” She stopped for a moment and looked around. “Any questions?”
Leslie smiled and shook her head. “Not a one. It’s adorable. So much personality. I’m glad I’m here.”
“Most of our guests prefer this over a stay at a Holiday Inn. More homey. Feel free to make friends with the other guests. Usually makes a great vacation even better.” She moved to the door. “If you need anything, Tom and I are always around. Just come find us.”
Leslie closed the door behind her and turned in a slow circle, taking in her new surroundings. This place was perfect. No way would Tim ever vacation in such a rustic place as this. He always went for the ultra-modern, luxurious vacation spots. And of course, she’d enjoyed those too. But staying at a place like this on her roadtrip seemed appropriate. She was mixing it up – doing things differently. Her life had changed and this trip was unlike anything she’d ever done before.
She pocketed the key, and left the room for exploration. She walked through the entire inn, familiarizing herself with her new home away from home. Walking through the back screened-in porch, she made her way down the long wooden boardwalk that led to the beach. The white sand was beautiful and fine and she took off her shoes to enjoy a barefoot walk. Comfy cushioned beach chairs dotted the sand behind the inn, and she looked forward to returning later to relax with a book, a drink and a bathing suit. But for now, she was elated to stretch her legs. She picked a direction and walked.
All the beachfront homes were old but well kept. She remembered a phrase from the realtor brochures, “arrogantly shabby,” the island’s catch phrase. She smiled and realized her heart was full of joy. She sent a prayer of thanks skyward.
An hour or so later, she returned to her room. She dug her car keys out of her purse, and retrieved her suitcase. Huffing from dragging it up the steep wooden steps, she stopped to rest for a minute in the comfortable living room.
“Oh, there she is!”
She looked up and saw Marianne smiling at her from behind the counter. Standing next to her, holding his cap in his hands, was a newly showered and laundered Hank.
Chapter Six
The grin that jumped on her face at the sight of him was one of those natural, God-given pleasures she couldn’t have prevented, even if she’d wanted to. And if she’d detected the slightest hesitation on his part at the sight of her, the grin was evidently the invitation he’d been waiting for. He took a few steps toward her, stopping inches away. “I thought I’d make sure you found it okay.”
“Yes, I did. Thanks for the recommendation. This place is perfect for me.”
He glanced down at her suitcase. “Why don’t I help you carry this upstairs?”
She nodded. “After dragging it up from the car, I’d be happy for the help.”
He hoisted it without much effort and headed for the stairs. “You know, my son-in-law would’ve carried this for you from your car to your room. You didn’t need to struggle yourself.”
She shook her head. “Not necessary. I got it. And got in my cardio workout at the same time. So, a win-win.”
He chuckled. “You sound like a self-sufficient lady.”
The observation pleased her. “I guess I am.” She beamed at him.
When they reached the top floor, he paused and she passed him, walked to her door and used her key to open it. He handed the suitcase to her. Curious, she glimpsed over her shoulder at him while she entered the room and threw the
luggage on her extra bed. He remained determinedly in the hallway.
Hmmm, a true southern gentleman. She turned to thank him when he said, “Care to meet my granddaughter?”
She laughed. “Absolutely!”
They headed down the hall, down the stairs and out the back. They crossed the long boardwalk and emerged onto the sand. A little girl wearing shorts, a pink tee shirt and a Myrtle Beach Pelicans ball cap sat digging with a plastic shovel. As they approached, she filled a small bucket, picked it up and trotted to the water’s edge. She splashed a couple shovel-fulls of salt water in the bucket and headed back to her spot. The single-minded mission, however, was happily interrupted when she caught sight of her grandpa.
“Paw Paw!” she yelled and ran toward him, water-logged bucket of sand still in tow. He took a few long strides and when she thrust her body in the air at him, he was there with open arms to catch her. He twirled her around in a close-bodied circle. “Hi, beautiful.”
She gave him kisses on his neck, and then it was back to business. She squirmed to look at the ground. “That’s my sand castle there. Don’t step on it, Paw Paw.”
“I saw it.” He deposited her on the sand and she ran over to inspect it. “Looks like a good one, too.”
He kneeled on the sand beside her creation. Plastic molds of architectural options littered the space around the castle. He turned his head and threw a wink in Leslie’s direction.
“Stella, this pretty lady wants to meet you. She’s staying at the inn for a while.”
Stella nodded and looked up a second or two before returning to repairing a turret.
Leslie got on her knees near the other two. “Hi Stella, nice to meet you.”
“Hi,” she threw over her shoulder.
“Darlin’, mind your manners. I want you to greet Miss Leslie the proper way, now.”
Leslie was about to object. The little girl was busy and focused, and not interested in meeting a stranger. Let her play. But she bit her tongue on her objection. Teaching manners to children was a tenuous job that required consistent expectations. She looked over at Hank and smiled, admiring his resolve.
The girl responded by standing and turning her back to the castle for a moment. She stepped closer to Leslie, held her hand out and said, “Nice to meet you, Miss Leslie. Welcome to the Inn.”
Delighted, Leslie took her hand. “Thank you. You’re so lucky to live here all the time.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She peeked over at her granddad, who was a picture of pride.
Leslie dropped her hand and gave her a break. “So, let’s see this creation of yours. It’s very impressive, isn’t it?”
Stella returned to her castle and got absorbed in repairs to the tower, then the new additions to the structure. Leslie and Hank sat back on the sand, watching her.
“I guess her to be about five.”
He gave her a look. “You’re close. She’ll be five in two weeks.”
“I teach eight-year-olds.”
He smiled. “Do you, now? Do you like it?”
“I love spending my days with kids. Tiring. But rewarding. She’s a sweetie, and so smart, too.”
“She sure is. One of God’s gifts to my life. Healthy grandchildren.”
“How many do you have?”
“Three. But she’s my only local one. The others live in Colorado so I don’t get to see them grow up. I visit as often as I can, but it’s still no more than once or twice a year.”
Grandchildren – one of life’s joys she hadn’t experienced yet, but looked forward to. “Is that your son you mentioned, who used to be in business with you? Are those his children?”
“No.”
She glanced over at him when the explanation didn’t continue. He must have felt her gaze because he looked over. “I have two daughters. Marianne and my other one, Sadie, have the children. Jeremy doesn’t have any.”
The sun started its slow descent and the feel of the day evolved from hot and sunny, to cooler and twilight. Eventually, Leslie heard Marianne calling to Stella from the inn. Time for cleaning up, then dinner. Hank helped her gather her tools and wipe the sand off her feet and clothes. They began the trek back to the inn, Stella talking about her hunger for dinner.
Hank said, “Care to join Stella and I for dinner tonight? You haven’t tasted shrimp scampi till you taste the Inn’s.”
“Oh, darn. I never made a reservation.”
Stella dropped Hank’s hand and ran ahead of them. “A benefit of eating with the innkeeper’s daughter and father. We can squeeze you in without a reservation.”
Despite her late lunch, Leslie realized she was hungry and could definitely eat shrimp scampi. “I’d love to join you. Thanks for asking me. In fact, knowing you has had several benefits. Marianne gave me the family discount because of you.”
He looked at her a second, then ducked his head. He cleared his throat as they walked. She glanced his way. Was that a flush of pink on his neck?
When they reached the living room, Marianne took Stella for a clean-up. Hank said, “I’ll wait for my two dinner dates here. Take your time.”
Back in her room, Leslie took a chance on the shower and was pleased to find it was available. Warm water washed away the sweat, sand and sunscreen of the afternoon and soon she was staring into her suitcase, wondering what type of wardrobe a dinner with a grandpa/granddaughter duo warranted. Most of her clothes contained wrinkles from spending several days folded in a suitcase. She pulled out a sundress, flipped it in the air a couple times, and laid it on her bed, brushing out the wrinkles as best she could. A peek into the closet confirmed there was no iron. But she supposed that was consistent with the “arrogantly shabby” moniker. She quickly did her hair and her makeup, and after slipping the dress on, she stopped before the full-length mirror.
The thought of being so fussy about her appearance amused her because it was so uncharacteristic of her. In long-term relationships, looks became secondary to the function you fulfilled. In her marriage, she had become the housekeeper, the cook, the mom and the secondary income earner. Did it even matter how she looked? Tim must’ve thought so, judging from his choice of a younger woman after he left her. But would pretty new clothes and makeup shades have prevented him from straying? She doubted it.
On closer inspection, she noticed the afternoon in the sun had given her cheeks a nice pink color, and her light brown hair had a few highlights that hadn’t been there before. The ocean had always been the place she was her happiest, and maybe that transcended to her personal appearance, as well. The dress was wrinkled, but who cares?
She made her way back to the living room where Hank sat on a couch, watching Stella play with some blocks on the floor. He came to his feet at her arrival, and in his soft southern drawl he said, “Don’t you look pretty now?”
She smiled and darn if she didn’t feel pretty at that moment. With him staring at her in admiration on Day 1 of her beach vacation after such an extraordinary road trip, she felt beautiful. And right where she was meant to be.
“Thank you.” Hank gathered Stella and they went into the dining room. They sat at a small table in the middle of the room, and as she was settling into her seat, Leslie glanced around. There was a good crowd. Must be why reservations were needed, and she made a point of remembering from now on. The meal evolved gradually, first a big glass of sweet tea, then a basket of homemade rolls with sweet butter. A salad doused with Italian dressing followed, then the aromatic scampi served over a bed of rice. When she thought she was as full as possible, a delicious-looking slice of key lime pie arrived. She made a deal with Hank to share hers, and he could take his full slice home for later.
“I’m going to dedicate my walk on the beach tomorrow to burning off all these calories,” she said with a laugh.
He nodded. “Marianne hired a cook with skills, I gotta give her that. The shrimp he used was caught this morning. He picks out the freshest food possible.”
“You mean, one cook produces al
l this food? There isn’t a staff?”
“One takes care of dinner. A second one covers breakfast and lunch. Speaking of breakfast, you need to make sure you’re up. There’s a made-to-order omelet bar.”
How different her evening would be sitting in a typical chain hotel, wondering what she could find for dinner, probably going to a hamburger joint out of convenience.
Marianne stepped up to the table. “Time for Miss Stella to go back to her room and think about settling in for the night.”
Hank rose and picked her up, squeezing her in a tight hug. “Love ya, darlin’.” She rested her head on his shoulder and her eyes drifted shut.
“Looks like she’s worn out from her day on the beach.” Leslie patted her back. “Night night, Stella.”
When Marianne took her away, Hank watched their departure and lingered on the spot for a few seconds. He pulled his eyes away and looked at Leslie. “I love that little girl.”
Leslie nodded. She could tell he did, from the way they interacted and the obvious joy each one felt when together. “You’re a great grandpa.”
“Could I interest you in a walk on the beach?”
“Sure.”
The sun had set on the day, bathing the beach in darkness, but the pristine white sand in contrast seemed to provide a light source of its own for two casual strollers. Leslie slipped out of her sandals when they reached the end of the boardwalk and left them there for retrieval when they returned. The sand under her feet felt deliciously cool and an inadvertent shiver ran through her. Hank’s arm immediately came up around her shoulders, and with it, the warmth of his solid body.
“Cold? I should’ve suggested you run and get a sweater.”
“No, I’m fine. The sand was chilly on my bare feet.”
His arm stayed in place and it pleased her, despite the fact a strange man’s hand on her bare shoulder seemed oddly intimate. In fact, her conflicting emotions threw her for such a loop that the first few minutes of their walk, she was so preoccupied with whether or not she should encourage the physical contact, she was unable to speak with him. Fortunately, he seemed to be interested in a silent stroll as well.
Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3 Page 9