“Hey, Wendy.” Caleb’s face broke into a wide smile as he greeted them. “Welcome!” He reached for Jackson’s hand, introducing himself.
“I need to get back to the kitchen.” Ashley shook her finger at Caleb. “And next time the doorbell rings, you can get it, Mr. Colton.”
“Do you need help in the kitchen?” Wendy offered.
“That’s okay. I’ve got Crystal and Beth already helping.”
Wendy suspected that was the Crystal from the shell shop—and not eager to cross paths with her again, she just nodded.
“I hope you like to play football,” Caleb said to Jackson.
Jackson shrugged. “I used to play soccer.”
“He was good too,” Wendy told Caleb.
“Great. It’s not a real serious game, Jackson, but I need you on my side. Both of you.” Caleb lowered his voice. “My cousin Gerard’s already bragging he’s got this in the bag. I’m pretty sure he’s laying bets.”
Caleb took them around, introducing them to an aunt and uncle and some cousins, but the names drifted right over her. “And this is Nana,” he finally said as they stopped by an elderly woman comfortably seated in a club chair by the fireplace.
“Hello, Wendy and Jackson.” The old woman smiled as she grasped Wendy’s hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
“I’m glad to meet you too, uh, Mrs. . . .” Wendy glanced at Caleb. “I didn’t catch her last name.”
“Just call me Nana,” the old woman said. “Everyone else does.”
“And I’ll bet you’ve met before,” Caleb told Nana. “Wendy used to go to your shell shop when she was a girl.”
“I thought you looked familiar.” Nana nodded knowingly.
“Oh, I doubt you’d possibly remember—”
“You’d be surprised,” Caleb told Wendy. “Nana’s got a fantastic memory for faces.”
Nana peered closely at Wendy. “Did you wear your hair in long pigtails and have freckles on your nose?” she asked. “A summer girl . . . coming here with your grandparents?”
Wendy nodded in amazement. “Yes.”
“Your grandparents were the Jacksons . . . and you loved to come in my shop, and you’d look and look at all the shells while your grandparents were in town.”
Wendy was shocked. “Yes, you’re absolutely right.”
Nana’s pale blue eyes twinkled. “Then I remember you.” She pointed to the ottoman. “Sit down and tell me what you’ve been doing since then.”
Wendy glanced at Jackson, not wanting to leave him out, but to her relief he was engaged with Caleb, telling him about how he’d spent the last few hours laying the checkerboard tiles in the bathroom.
“Did your mom tell you that I helped her pick those tiles out?” Caleb asked.
“No.” Jackson shook his head. “But that was a great idea. The floor looks really cool.”
“Jackson did a fabulous job,” Wendy bragged. “He’s quite the handyman.”
“But how do you like playing pool?” Caleb asked Jackson. “Or do you prefer Ping-Pong or video games?”
Jackson’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, sure—all of the above.”
“Great. I’ve been looking for someone to challenge me. Come on down to the game room and we’ll get something going.”
With Jackson happily occupied, Wendy wound up giving Caleb’s grandma a brief bio of her life, leaving out the sad parts and ending with the inheritance of the cottage.
“Wonderful!” Nana clapped her hands. “Is it just you and your boy in the cottage? Or is there a Mr. Harper around here somewhere?” She glanced over Wendy’s shoulder.
Wendy quickly explained about Edward.
“Oh, my. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Nana reached for Wendy’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know that’s not easy for a young woman. But I’m so glad you decided to move here. It’s such a wonderful place for a boy to grow up.”
“Well, we haven’t actually moved here . . . not permanently,” Wendy quietly confessed. “I need to sell the cottage. And go back to my job in Cincinnati.”
Nana’s brow creased. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Unfortunately, my son has assumed we’re here for good.” Wendy frowned, wishing she hadn’t divulged that. Then, in an effort to change the subject, she began telling Nana about finding the sand dollars today. “But please don’t tell anyone about it,” she said quickly. “I promised Jackson not to tell anyone. It’s important to him.”
Nana chuckled. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“We cleaned them all up and they’re drying now,” Wendy continued. “I thought maybe I could sell them or something.”
“I’m sure you could. Sand dollars are not easily come by ’round here. I’m surprised you found so many . . . although I remember the time my husband and I found about a hundred. All in one day too. Lewis was just home from the war and we were newly married. Living in a fisherman’s shack. But with all those sand dollars, we thought we were rich.” She laughed heartily. “As it turned out, we were.”
“When did you first start your shell shop?”
“It was the summer of 1946. Not long after we found all those sand dollars. Lewis was working as a fisherman. We used his GI loan to buy the property in town, and we moved into the apartment up above. He continued to fish, and I started up the shop. When I wasn’t working at the shop, I was out on the beach hunting for shells. That’s how I got most of my original inventory—out there on the beach.”
“What a lovely way to live.”
She sighed. “It was . . . oh, it really was.”
Wendy didn’t know what to say now. Nana appeared far away, and she hated to disturb her.
“Not everyone would agree with me about this”—Nana lowered her voice—“but I truly believe that people are happier with less . . . not more.” She glanced around the spacious room with its high ceilings, expensive furnishings, and enormous fireplace. “This house is far too much for my taste.”
“I was pretty surprised Caleb has such a fancy house,” Wendy admitted.
“Oh, no, this isn’t Caleb’s house,” Nana corrected. “This is his parents’ home. They’re down in Palm Beach for the winter. They just let the kids use this place for get-togethers. Ashley is in charge.”
“Is Ashley Caleb’s wife?” Wendy asked quietly, almost wishing she hadn’t.
“Oh, goodness, no.” Nana shook her head. “Ashley is Caleb’s baby sister.”
“Oh.” Wendy wondered if Nana could see through her question.
“Caleb isn’t married. In fact, he’s gotten a reputation for being a confirmed bachelor.” She chuckled. “But I never give up hope.”
Before Wendy could respond, Ashley began calling everyone into an elegant dining room, where it didn’t take long for all eighteen of the guests to take their places around an enormous table that looked out over the ocean. Caleb sat at one end of the table with Nana on the other end. He led them in a blessing then asked everyone to share one thing they were thankful for.
“I’m thankful for my family and friends,” he began. “And for new friends too.”
Wendy felt nervous as they went around the table, unsure of what she’d say—especially since she hadn’t been particularly thankful for anything lately. Well, besides the sand dollars, and she’d been sworn to secrecy about that. Finally, it was her turn, and there was only one honest answer. “I’m thankful for my son, Jackson,” she said. “He’s been so helpful in coming back to Seaside. I couldn’t possibly do this without him.”
When Jackson’s turn came, she braced herself. “I’m thankful that I get to live in Seaside—the most beautiful place in the world!”
Everyone cheered, but Wendy felt like crawling under the table. How long could she let him go on living in a delusion? As they started to pass food around, she felt Nana’s eyes upon her. But the wise old woman simply smiled in a knowing way—almost as if she understood.
To Wendy’s relief, Jackson appeared perf
ectly relaxed and at ease with everyone, comfortably making conversations with those around him. Wendy tried to calm her nerves and follow his example, even making small talk with Crystal, who was seated next to her. But she couldn’t help but think this all felt strangely surreal—like she was someone else or playing a role in a movie. And yet, she realized it was surprisingly enjoyable too. For the most part, Caleb’s friends and family were disarmingly likable. Well, except for Crystal. Wendy still didn’t know what to make of her. The way the pretty blonde shared details about Caleb’s life, his likes and dislikes and personal history, well, it became clear that this woman had territorial feelings toward Caleb. For all Wendy knew, they were practically engaged. Or at least Crystal acted like it.
Still, the rest of them were great, and by the time they went outside to play football, Wendy almost felt like one of the family. Glad that she’d worn jeans, Wendy sat on a log to remove her suede boots and put on tennis shoes, listening as Caleb and Gerard bantered over who was on which team.
“Wendy and Jackson are my guests, so they’re on my team,” Caleb declared.
“Then I get Rick and Curtis,” Gerard told him.
“Don’t forget me,” Crystal cooed and, stepping next to Caleb, linked her arm in his. “Remember how I helped you win last year?”
Before long they were playing, running the football up and down the beach. And although Caleb kept assuring Wendy it was just a “friendly game,” she couldn’t help but notice how badly Gerard wanted to win. He tossed out good-natured jabs and took advantage of the situation whenever he could.
Caleb, on the other hand, was more laid-back, doing an admirable job of encouraging his teammates. He also gave Jackson lots of opportunities to handle the ball. Because of Caleb’s good attitude, Wendy was determined to put forth a good effort. He didn’t know that she’d grown up playing sports and could still run pretty fast. But Crystal seemed intent on monopolizing most of the plays, insisting that she had it under control. Unfortunately, Crystal could neither catch nor run—and their team was falling steadily behind.
“I’ll receive the next pass,” Wendy finally told Caleb as their team huddled together.
“Really?” He looked surprised. “You want to?”
“Let her,” Jackson urged. “She’s really fast—I mean, for a mom anyway.”
Caleb’s eyes lit up. “Okay then.” He told her a plan and where to run, and when the time came, she did exactly as told and they easily scored.
“Woo-hoo!” Caleb hooted as he gave her a high-five. “Our secret weapon has finally arrived.”
It wasn’t long until their team caught up. Just seconds before Nana sounded the blow-horn—according to the kitchen timer in her lap—Jackson caught a sloppy bilateral pass from Wendy and scored the winning touchdown. Caleb grabbed up Jackson and Wendy, giving them a bear hug before they were mobbed by the rest of their teammates in a victory celebration. Everyone except Crystal. She was standing on the sidelines, inspecting a broken fingernail with a furrowed brow. Wendy attempted a smile as she and Jackson passed by, but Crystal just glowered.
After football, it was time for dessert, followed by some rowdy charades. But when it started getting dusky out, and Wendy couldn’t help but notice the chill coming from Crystal’s direction, she felt it was time to go. No need to overstay their welcome. She thanked everyone and said a personal goodbye to Nana. Then Caleb walked her and Jackson out to the car. Before she got in, he handed her a couple of magazines.
“Just some old catalogues,” he explained. “In case you decide to make some beachy accessories from your shell collection. These are from last year, but the ideas are still good. And you can see, these items, when done right, can go for some pretty high prices. Not a bad way to make a living if you’re so inclined.”
“Thanks, I can’t wait to go through them.”
He slapped his forehead. “And I just remembered—I totally forgot your payment for the shells. I made you a check and left it in my woodshop.” He smiled. “Maybe you could drop by and pick it up.”
“Sure.” She nodded. “That’s fine. Will your store be open?”
“Yes. As part of the SDA, I don’t have a choice these next few days.”
“SDA?”
“Seaside Downtown Association.”
“They force you to be open?”
“Well, we all agreed to be open. You see, this weekend is Small Business Saturday. Everyone is supposed to be open. The hope is that there’ll be lots of Christmas shoppers. And then there’s the tree lighting in the town square—and all the businesses’ Christmas lights will come on too. That happens on Saturday evening at five.” He tipped his head toward Jackson. “Remind your mom to bring you. It’s pretty fun. We all sing carols and drink cocoa and eat cookies.”
“Sounds cool,” Jackson told him.
“Hey, how are you at hanging Christmas lights?” Caleb asked Jackson.
Jackson shrugged. “I don’t really know.”
“You mind being on a ladder?”
Jackson grinned. “Not at all.”
“Because I could use a hand. I still haven’t put my lights up. You interested in a paying job?”
Jackson’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, sure. That’d be great. When?”
“Well, as the town’s worst procrastinator, I don’t usually put my lights up until just moments before the town lighting. Drives my sister nuts.” He rubbed his chin. “How about three o’clock on Saturday. It shouldn’t take us much more than an hour to get ’er done.”
“Is that okay?” Jackson asked Wendy.
“That’s fine,” she told him. With that settled, they told Caleb goodbye and headed for home. As Wendy drove, she felt tired, but it was a happy sort of exhaustion. Better than she’d felt in a long time. Despite the fact that their cottage was in total disrepair and they still didn’t have a real bathroom, she felt glad to be going home. “Today was a good day,” she told Jackson as she drove down the beach road.
“It totally was,” Jackson declared. “And Thanksgiving was way better than I thought it would be. I actually like your friends, Mom. And Caleb is pretty cool.”
“They’re not exactly my friends,” she confessed. “I mean, other than Caleb, and I barely know him. But, really, you know all of them just as well as I do.”
“Well, they were pretty cool. Even Gerard was okay. He got a little intense, but he was nice about congratulating us when we finally won.”
“I think he was surprised.”
“But I’m not sure about that Crystal chick.”
“Oh?”
“No offense, but she didn’t seem to like you, Mom.”
Wendy told him about the incident at the shell shop. “We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.”
“I think she’s jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Yeah. Because Caleb likes you better than he likes her.”
“Oh, I don’t know about—”
“It was obvious, Mom. Couldn’t you see it?”
“I’m not sure.” To change the subject, she told him about Caleb’s grandmother, and how amazing it was that she remembered Wendy from so many years ago. “Nana is such a darling old lady—and I hope you don’t mind but I told her about our sand dollars.”
“Mom!”
“She promised not to breathe a word of it.” Now she told him about how Nana found sand dollars so long ago. “They got a hundred in one day, Jackson. And that was partly why she started the shell shop. I know we can trust her not to tell anyone. And she loved hearing about it.”
“Okay then . . . You didn’t tell anyone else? Not even Caleb?”
“No—I didn’t tell anyone else.”
“And we’re still going out tomorrow morning? First thing?”
“You bet we are.” As she pulled into the driveway, the wheels in her head were already spinning—imagining ways she might be able to use their sand dollars as well as the other multitudes of shells her grandparents had found to make ob
jects that could be sold. She knew they wouldn’t get rich from selling shell art, but if she could just help cover some of their expenses before her credit card went up in a puff of smoke, she would be most grateful.
eight
AS THEY STARTED up to the front porch, Wendy heard a scuffling sound. Grabbing Jackson’s hand, she began to back up, digging in her jacket pocket for her phone. It was too dusky to see well, and they hadn’t left any lights on. With a trembling hand, Wendy prepared to call 911. It figured that after such a perfect day, they’d come home to a burglar!
“What is it?” Jackson whispered as she tugged him toward the car.
“Someone on the porch,” she hissed. “Get in the car and—”
“Look, Mom!” He pointed toward the porch. “It’s just a dog.”
“What?” She lowered her phone, peering through the darkness.
“It’s a dog.” Jackson let go of her hand and hurried toward the house. “Hey, dog,” he said gently. “What’re you doing here?”
Sure enough, an energetic dog bounded down the steps, wagging its tail as Jackson knelt to greet it. “It’s friendly,” Jackson said as she rushed over. She unlocked the front door and turned on the porch light, revealing a midsized dog. It appeared to be a mixed breed—maybe some terrier as well as some shepherd, but the dog’s expression and wagging tail suggested friendliness.
“Where did you come from?” Wendy knelt to see that the dog’s shaggy coat was matted and dirty. “Any ID?”
“He doesn’t have a collar,” Jackson told her.
“How do you know it’s a he?” she asked.
Jackson snickered. “Some things are obvious, Mom.”
“Oh, well.” She stood up. “What do we do with him?”
“I think we should feed him,” Jackson told her. “I can feel his ribs.”
A Christmas by the Sea Page 7