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“Occasionally. No time for comfy chairs in season, though, so if you really don’t know what your post-graduation plans are yet, maybe think about a summer at the beach. I can teach you what I know, and you and Dalton can do some of that heavy lifting that I’m getting too old for. I’ve even got an extra room upstairs.” She pointed to the ceiling.

“I, um. I’m probably moving back home after graduation, Miss Anita.”

“Well, that’s a good choice too. I’m sure your family misses you. And please, call me Anita. We’re all adults here.”

I held out my hand as if I really was wrapping up a job interview. “Anita, you have a lovely store here.”

“It’s a lovely store that’s had three customers all day. Do you have any nieces and nephews to shop for?”

I laughed and held up my hands. “Only child.”

“Pity.”

“We’ll get out of your hair, Miss Anita,” Brett jumped in.

“Anita,” she and I both said at the same time.

He laughed before adding, “We’re meeting my parents at the Three B’s tonight if you want to join us for dinner.”

“Wish I could, Brett, but it’s inventory night. You boys have fun.”

“She wasn’t serious, was she?” I asked as we exited the store. Brett was looking at his phone.

“Huh?”

“Did Miss Anita just offer me a job?”

Brett looked up then and laughed. “Oh yeah, I guess she did! Dude! You should totally come work at the beach this summer! She really would teach you the business. And we’d have so much fun!” Brett told me more about her as we continued our way down the boardwalk.

“Miss Anita is friends with my mom, so we’ve known her forever. As far as I know, she doesn’t have family, so she probably would train you up or whatever, to, like, take over one day. Yeah, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have any other family. She’s always joked that she was too busy making joy for all the kids of Breakwater to have a family of her own. I think she, like, ran away from an abusive home or something and ended up here. I don’t really know the details, but the owners of the building took her in, and she worked for them. I guess they left her the place when they died. She owns the toy store and the whole building.”

“Wow! The other two stores as well?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I think she rents out the other storefronts. There’s apartment space above. She lives in one and I think uses the other for storage. It’s great real estate. I overheard my dad on the phone this summer. He wants to swoop in and have his company buy it someday. He’s never mentioned that to me, but it finally makes sense why it’s so awkward when Miss Anita comes over for dinner.”

“Oh.” I was shooting for surprised, but I couldn’t keep negativity out of my tone.

“Yeah. It’s okay, you can say it.” Brett smiled. “My dad sometimes comes off as the evil developer. It’s part of his job, finding locations for new hotels, or in this case, ways to expand a very popular oceanfront location. That wouldn’t be my job. I’ll be helping to manage one location to start. I don’t want to be in acquisitions like my dad. I mean, I could never try to close that place down or buy up peoples’ houses or whatever. I just want to work with the customers. Anyway, I don’t see Miss Anita selling to someone like At Home, no matter how … aggressive my dad sounded about it.

“But the place is worth a lot of money. I hate to think of it being anything but Breakwater Toys and Gifts. Hopefully, she can find someone to sell it to who will want to maintain it. Or maybe she’ll gift it, like it was given to her. Apparently, it was a big deal at the time because it’s such a prime location, and she was this young woman, a stranger who had wandered into town and been taken in by a local family. Now she’s like the honorary mayor of Breakwater. Everyone knows her, and she knows everyone. Every kid in Breakwater has been to Miss Anita’s.”

“Wow, that’s quiet the history.” For a brief moment, I imagined myself saying yes and moving to Breakwater Beach for the summer. It seemed like a fanciful dream, not the decision of a prudent college graduate. My parents expected me home and had already mentioned a parishioner at their church who had an entry-level job lined up for me. Going home was what was expected of me. It was what I knew I would do. Still, I couldn’t help but imagine summer at the beach. Couldn’t help picturing myself among people who knew me, who really knew me, and cared about me anyway.

“Yeah. I would hate to see a place like that torn down. It seems really … welcoming.”

Brett shoulder bumped me. “Maybe you should have accepted the job offer, then. Huh?

We laughed our way down the boardwalk, but the truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. A job at the beach? A life that included that view? It’s not something I’d ever contemplated, but looking out at the ocean, it seemed like a pretty good place to establish my own roots. A place where I could be Turner Misher, gay businessman, and not the son of church elders Mr. and Mrs. Royce Misher. I knew what was expected of me, what they expected of me. Even the crash of the waves couldn’t drown out the slamming of the closet door when I thought about a life back home. There were certain things Turner Misher couldn’t be in Wisconsin, and a gay toy store owner was probably at the top of the list.

I let the sound of the waves wash away my negative thoughts, determined to enjoy my time at the beach as we lowered our heads again and walked back the way we’d come. We popped in and out of a few other stored and eventually, we met Brett’s family at a wood-paneled restaurant, also right on the boardwalk. I stared at the sign above the door.

“I thought your mom said a different name?”

Brett pointed to the sign. “Beach Break Bar and Grill, but everyone calls it the Three B’s.”

“Cool.” I really found everything about Breakwater Beach charming. Even Mr. Garner’s hotel, though slightly out of place, still had a beachy feel to it, painted white with its belvedere balconies on the upper levels. I could just picture myself, morning coffee in hand, looking out over the ocean on a warm summer’s day, the sound washing away my anxiety like it had done during our walk to the restaurant.

I thought the Three B’s was going to be stuffy, with its wood paneling and matching tables and bar, but as soon as we walked in, Brett was engulfed by another local. I couldn’t recall ever having been hugged as warmly as Brett had now been by his mother, Anita, and this guy.