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“You could’ve picked without me,” he told her even though his parents wouldn’t have let her.
“Riiight.” Skyla rolled her eyes.
“Kids, this is your home until the end of August. Treat it like you’d treat our home,” Emmett said.
They toured the main floor, seeing the living room, formal dining room, bathroom, and the eat-in kitchen, which had a full-length porch and a view of the water. The floors were gray, the walls navy blue, which was fitting since Emmett was in the Navy, and everything had been trimmed in white.
“This house is nauti,” Leona said, laughing at her own joke.
Emmett pointed out there were two ways to get upstairs, either through the flight of stairs in the kitchen or via the main staircase in the living room. He led them through the house to the main set, and placed his hand on Leona’s back, guiding her up the flight.
The color scheme stayed the same on the second floor with the added touch of white starfish resting atop each window.
“Make sure you move the starfish if you plan to open the window,” Leona said. “They’re fragile.”
“I don’t understand why people put fragile things out in their homes and expect them not to get broken,” Skyla said.
“It’s décor,” Leona told her.
They came to the first bedroom, which was where the twins would sleep. It had twin beds with matching navy-blue bedspreads and wicker furniture. The beds faced the glass door, which when opened led to a small balcony. Kiel found the same set-up in his room, only with a larger bed and French doors.
Emmet and Leona’s room was the largest version of the first two bedrooms with an attached bathroom. The bonus was the jetted tub and a walk-in closet.
Whoever designed this house did so with the view and ocean in mind. With each bed facing the glass door and having its own balcony, albeit small, it gave off the perfect ambiance. Kiel was impressed. Not only with the design, but his parents for finding and renting it for the summer.
Kiel went downstairs and grabbed his things. He picked up an extra couple of bags and brought them upstairs. “Not sure whose these are,” he yelled from the hallway as he set them down. He closed the door to his room, set his things on the bed and walked to the door, pulled it open and stepped out onto the small balcony. It was big enough for him and maybe one other person, but that would be it.
He leaned against the thick wooden railing and stared at the beachcombers, the people sunbathing, splashing in the water, and the lifeguards watching over their charges. There were squeals of laughter which brought a smile to his face. His eyes scanned the area and landed on the boardwalk where there were many cabanas, a snack shack, an aquarium, and a gift shop. The Colliers were definitely in a tourist trap or destination. While they could see the ocean from their house, they’d have to walk over to the beach. He didn’t mind, especially with the view he had from his room.
Kiel left the door open and started to unpack his clothes. He hung his dress shirts and the two pairs of slacks he brought with him per his mother’s request and put everything else in the dresser. His three pairs of shoes—flip-flops, sneakers, and dressier shoes—went into the closet, as did his suitcase. Next, he took out his chargers, laptop, and a book about deciding your future and set those on top of the dresser. His finger hovered over the front jacket as he contemplated whether he should read it or not. Nothing or no one seemed to have the answers for him on which way his future should go.
He laid on the bed, with his arms behind his head and watched as the sheer white curtains fluttered from the breeze let in by the open door. He listened to people laughing, the sounds of the waves, and the seagulls squawking. Kiel could easily tell when one of them found food. Their pitch changed and their noises became frantic. And the smell was much better than it had been when they were in the car. The scent of sunbaked sand wafted into his room. Kiel could get used to this.
After everyone unpacked, Kiel went to the beach instead of heading to the grocery store with the rest of the family. The last thing he wanted to do was follow his family around the store. With his flip-flops on and a beach towel around his neck, he walked down the hill, only to surmise that walking back up was going to suck. Maybe this was where the trolley came in. He could easily see wanting to take it home after a long day at the beach.
Kiel walked through the parking lot and took the four or five steps—he wasn’t sure because the sand hid at least one step—down and promptly kicked off his flip-flops. He didn’t want to look like a fool as he walked along the beach, kicking up sand behind him. He remembered doing that when he was a kid. It was funny then. As an adult, not so much.
He made it to the surf and waited for the waves to come in. As the next series of waves rolled toward him, he counted the seconds until the water touched his toes. The water wasn’t cold, so he walked farther out, hoping for the same result. The Seaport Bay, or whatever the official name was, did not disappoint. It was like bathwater and completely swimmable. Kiel turned and headed back to where he came from to drop his towel and shoes off. He figured a few laps in the water would do him some good.
A bird squawked overhead. Kiel looked up and saw an osprey, its enormous wingspan casting a shadow, flying above him. The bird had a fish in his talon and was likely headed toward a nest or wherever the bird roosted. Near him, another squawked, and then a colony of seagulls followed suit. Kiel chuckled at the audacity the seagulls had at being jealous of the osprey.
Kiel tracked the osprey until it was out of sight and as his eyes traveled downward, he saw her. Whoever she was, the sun loved her because it casted a glow around her, making her look ethereal. She tilted her head toward the sky and her hair blew around her. Kiel shivered, as if he were cold, but he wasn’t. She gathered her long hair and put it in a bun before turning around and walking away. There was something about her that instantly entranced him and the feeling had him wanting to know more about her.
He ran, as fast as he could out of the water. Sand clumped around his wet feet as he trudged toward his towel and flip-flops. Gathering them quickly, he continued toward the boardwalk, needing to find out where she went.
He climbed the stairs and tossed his flip-flops onto the wooden decking and wiped as much of the sand off as he could before slipping his feet into them. He suddenly felt odd in the sense that he was underdressed or should have on Chuck Taylor’s or a different type of slip on. Kiel looked around at the other men to see what they wore—the same as him. So, what did it matter? It didn’t and shouldn’t. Yet, he felt self-conscious about his feet.
The boardwalk was busy. People rushed past him, bumping shoulders, while others stood at the railing and watched the beach goers or stood in front of the large windows, window shopping. Kids screamed, some begged for cotton candy or ice cream from the snack shack, and carousel music drifted through the loudspeaker attached to the side of the building.
Kiel found her, in between two stores, in a shaded walkway. She stood next to an easel with a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. She wasn’t alone. People milled around her. Some walked by and waved, while others gave her awkward hugs. The people here knew her, which he found odd because he thought everyone would be tourists, not stopping to consider people actually lived on the island full-time. He supposed she could’ve been one of those who returned every summer. He had friends who vacationed in the same spot, year after year, and had created friendships with people who did the same thing. The only place the Colliers had been to multiple times was Disney, and they never stayed in the same hotel more than once.
He waited his turn to go up and talk to her, even though he had no idea what he would say. Introducing himself would be the smartest thing, but after that, all sense of flirting had flushed from his mind. She said goodbye and before he could even take a step forward, she sat down and began painting. Was his opportunity lost?
He wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her. It wasn’t like he could see her painting so complimenting her work was out of the question. Kiel could tell her that he saw her while he was swimming in the ocean and something in his mind told him he needed to find her, to talk to her. That was the cheesiest pick-up line he’d ever thought of and could easily go down in history.
Kiel stood against the railing and watched her hand move quickly across the canvas. Her dark hair was in a bun, but she also had a headband, a blue bandana type tied around her head as well. Had she had it on when he saw her on the boardwalk? She wore overalls splattered with paint, and a white tank top underneath and she sat on one of those metal chairs, the kind that folded up for easy storage, with her right foot tucked under her left leg.
What do they call artists who set up and paint on boardwalks or piers? Kiel hadn’t a clue but had developed a sudden interest in this particular painter. He smiled when her forehead crinkled or when she put the end of the paintbrush in her mouth, to reach for another one. He full on laughed when she stuck one in her hair and then cursed wildly as she pulled her hand away from her hair to find it covered in paint.
