Abbie took a cucumber sandwich and crossed to the French doors. After fumbling one-handed with the handle, she popped the rest of the little sandwich in her mouth and used both hands to pull the doors open.
She stepped out to the wraparound porch where several white rocking chairs and wicker side tables were lined up facing the ocean. The air was tangy with salt, and she breathed deeply before crossing to the rail.
Below her a wide lawn slid into white dunes that dipped and billowed before the old mansion like a crinoline. Delicate tufts of greenery embroidered the way to the beach, wide and white and ending in a point that stretched like a guiding finger to the horizon.
And beyond that, water and sky. She’d come to the edge of the world. Not a violent wave-crashing, jagged-rock edge that you’d expect, but the southern genteel version with fat lazy waves rolling in, tumbling one over the other before spilling into white foam on the sand.
Abbie filled her lungs with the spicy, clean air and slowly let it out. Part of her tension oozed away. She was tempted just to stay right there looking at the ocean forever, but they were expecting her for dinner.
She went inside to unpack. Her coat was lying across the chenille bedspread.
Her cell phone rang. She turned her back on the coat and checked caller ID.
“Perfect timing,” she said, answering it.
“Did you just arrive?” Celeste asked.
“A few minutes ago. This place is incredible, kind of southern gothic.”
“Ugh. Is it in really bad shape? I’ve been meaning to get back but I never seem to find the time.”
“The outside more than the interior, though it looks like someone has started repairs. But everything is very comfortable, the sisters are a hoot, and Beau . . . I adore him already.”
“Which room did they give you?”
“One with peach paint that opens onto the veranda and a view of the ocean. Why didn’t you tell me about the beach?”
“I did.”
“Oh, well it’s incredible. I haven’t had a chance to go down yet, but I plan to spend tomorrow laying out. Thank you.”
“No prob. Don’t forget your sunscreen. It isn’t hot yet, but the sun can burn. Especially with your skin.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
“Oh hell, I know you know more about sunburn than I do, considering the sun hardly ever creeps into my office.” Celeste sighed. “I’m kind of envious.”
“Then why don’t you try to get away? It’s really quite wonderful,” Abbie said. And her stay here would be easier to handle with Celeste to deflect some of the attention.
“I wish. I told you it was just what you needed. You have to promise to soak up some rays for me.”
“I will and you were right. Even if I had to fall apart to realize it.”
“Don’t think about that. You’ll get back into it—when you’re ready.”
And nobody, not even Abbie, thought she would ever be ready. She knew she could never go back. Back had been torn away from her. Back was no longer an option.
“Hey listen, I have a very important question for you.”
“Yes?”
Abbie could hear the wariness in her friend’s voice. “Am I expected to dress for dinner?”
Celeste laughed. It was a sound that made Abbie feel homesick.
“Well, I haven’t been there in years, but it is Sunday dinner.”
“I take that to mean yes. But how dressed?”
“You know, just nice, a dress, not too short, maybe some pearls.”
“Got it. I’d better get hopping. I don’t want to be late. And Celeste. Thanks. I take it back, all that stupid stuff I said. You were right. This is just what I needed.”
About the Author
A former professional dancer and choreographer, SHELLEY NOBLE lives in New Jersey.
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Also by Shelley Noble
Beach Colors
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from Beach Colors copyright © 2012 by Shelley Freydont.
Excerpt from Stargazey Point copyright © 2013 by Shelley Freydont.
HOLIDAYS AT CRESCENT COVE. Copyright © 2012 by Shelley Freydont. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition DECEMBER 2012 ISBN: 9780062261977
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062261984
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