“Everyone that comes to the Gay Dolphin has to leave with a name patch.”
I scan the rows. “What if they don’t have my name.”
“Then you get to pick a new one.”
It’s a silly task but challenging all the same. Pete stands next to me, pointing out names that could be a good fit. “What about Carol? Shannon? Barbara?”
“You think I’m a Carol?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.
He lifts a tag. “What about Betty?”
I shake my head.
He sizes me up, thinking for a minute. “Okay we need a name that asserts itself as something strong yet feminine. Passionate although composed. Sexy and determined?—”
“I found it.” I point to the wall.
“Huh?” He follows my finger to a name just above my reach. Pete steps forward and plucks it off the wall. “Rhonda?”
“Yes. Rhonda.”
I hold the little oval to my chest, over my heart, and think about stitching it on later. “I think a Rhonda is all of those things.”
Pete wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. In the middle of the plastic chockski’s, some I’m pretty sure that have been here since the store opened, he kisses me, letting me know it’s not my name that he’s into. It’s all me.
The afternoon is filledwith games at the old-school arcade, along with photos in the photo booth. When the sun sets we get ice cream on the boardwalk and lean over the railing looking out at the sea. I watch a lifeguard in red shorts and a white T-shirt close up his stand, loading his emergency supplies into a wagon with big wheels to travel over the sand.
“My grandparents met down here,” Pete says suddenly. He nods to the lifeguard. “My grandfather was a lifeguard and my mom was down here visiting with her family.”
“Really? What year was that?”
He thinks for a minute. “Probably the mid-30s.”
“Seriously? They had lifeguards then?”
He licks his chocolate ice cream, keeping it from dripping down the cone. The wind isn’t making it easy. “Yep. My mom has the pictures framed at home. He had on one of those one-piece bathing suits—the kind that looks like a wrestling tunic and my grandmother is basically wearing a shirt and a bottom that looks like shorts.”
“That’s adorable. You’ll have to show me sometime.”
I use my napkin to wipe the chocolate mint chip ice cream off my chin but Pete leans over and kisses it away instead. It’s cheesy and makes me laugh but that’s what this is all about. Being free. Standing on the boardwalk, realizing we’re not the only ones falling in love on these beaches. People have done it for decades, maybe much longer.
I snuggle against Pete’s chest and we wait for the lights on Ocean Drive to click on one at a time. Things have changed since Pete’s grandparents met here and my mother came here with her friends. But it’s obvious that other things haven’t changed at all and I’m thankful to be a part of that history.
41
Summer
Anitaand I are knee-deep in party arrangements, making sure the food is ordered, the invitations have been sent out and all the little boxes on our check list are completed. Nick is busy at the front of the shop, hanging his pieces. They look amazing framed, highlighting the depth and skill he possesses.
We’re just finishing up when the swings open and my mother steps through. She looks outstanding, dressed in a flattering outfit. Her frame is tiny and it looks like she may have lost weight while she was gone. Her blonde hair is perfectly styled and I see the glint of pearl earrings.
“Mom! You’re back!” I glance at my watch. “Early! I was going to pick you up at the airport.”
“I couldn’t take one hour away from home,” she says, sweeping across the store. She takes in everything—the arrangement of books, the new arrivals. The tiny play area Anita set up in the children’s section. “We caught an earlier flight. Pete picked us up at the airport in Myrtle Beach and dropped Richard at home. I was too amped up and wanted to see you.”
She stops to give Nick a squeeze and I’ve circled the counter to throw my arms around her. We’ve had our struggles and secrets but we’ve always been close. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until she walked in the door.
She smells like home and although she’s clearly exhausted, she exudes the energy that I’m always jealous of. “The store looks fantastic. Nick, your photographs are outstanding. I can’t tell you how many compliments I heard about them while I was on the book tour.”
