Picking my white Los Angeles Valley College sweatshirt up from my passenger seat, I pull it on, grab my purse, and get out of the car. After shaking my legs out and stretching, I head for the house without bothering to lock my car. Crime in this part of the Cove is so rare that almost everyone leaves their doors unlocked. Since this will be my first time living in the cottage alone, I won’t be doing that, but I love things like that are still an option here. Only an idiot with a death wish would intentionally leave their doors unlocked in Los Angeles.
As soon as I turn the key in the lock and push the door open, I feel at home. The lavender-and-eucalyptus sachets my grandmother taught me to make when I was a child mix with the scent of the cedar-wrapped beams on the ceiling, a warm welcome after a long drive. Yesterday, Millie let in the cleaning crew I hired to give the place a onceover, so there’s a hint of lemony fresh cleaner in the air too.
Before I go any farther, I stop and shoot off a text to Rob and Karen:
I made it safe and sound. Going to go sit and watch the sunset. I’ll call after I bring in my luggage. Love you both!
As happy as I am to be here, there’s some bittersweet mixed in. The last time I was here, Grandpa was with me. We’d known it would be his final trip to the island, which meant it had been an emotional time.
Walking through the house, I open the rear slider and step out onto the deck. My mind’s eye immediately conjures an image of Grandpa sitting on one of the white Adirondack chairs that look out to the water. As tired and gaunt as he’d been from chemo and radiation, the sparkle I’d always loved to see in his eyes was present the entire time we were here.
“There’s no place like this,” he said.
I grinned as I tucked my hands into my fleece jacket, since the wind coming off the water was especially brisk. “You love it so much, why didn’t you ever come back here to live permanently?”
He turned and smiled at me before he looked back at the water. “First, I stayed in California, because I was young and it was different. Different to young people is always better, whether it’s true or not. After that, I stayed, because I met your Gran, and she was born and raised there. She loved spending a month here each summer, but making it permanent would’ve changed the way she felt about it. My Gracie was a city girl through and through. Plus, I knew that after your momma died, Gracie needed to stay where she’d raised her more than ever. She had such good memories of your mom’s school years; she wanted to give that to you too.”
“She did good,” I assured him. “You both did. I had a great childhood.”
I had too. My parents died during a trip to Hawaii to celebrate their five-year anniversary when their helicopter tour ended with a crash. Since I was only three when they died, my memories of them had long since faded. What I knew about them came from photographs, videos, and my grandparents.
“I’m glad you feel that way, sweet girl. When you were little, it made sense to keep you there, but as you grew older, I wondered if we’d made the right choice. The tranquility of the Cove always called to you. If the opportunity ever presents itself, you should consider moving here permanently.”
Tilting my head back, I look up at the sky. “Thanks for the great advice, Grandpa. I miss you.”
The soft breeze that whispers past my face and the sound of the ocean lapping against the shore are the only answer. Even still, I know he approves of my decision.
CHAPTER THREE
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ASHLEY
“I PACKED A lunch for you,” Millie says as she walks into the house through the open sliding door. “It’s leftover chicken stir fry with rice, and I threw in a pack of Abe’s Twinkies. Lord knows that man doesn’t need the extra sugar,” she grumbles.
Abe is her husband, and if he weighs more than he did the day they got married, I’d be a monkey’s uncle. He’s what my grandmother called elder-fit, which I think was her way of saying he was hot. Gross, but I know she had a point.
Millie is a welcome sight in her uniform of choice—a bright pink Hawaiian-print blouse, a pair of navy polyester pants with a crease down the front, and crisp, white Bobos. Her short silver curls are perfectly styled, and her rose-colored gold-rimmed glasses are hanging on the beaded glasses holder she wears around her neck. Last night was book club night, so I didn’t get to visit with her when I arrived. At seventy-three, Millie is more active than a lot of teenagers.