“But—”
Emery pointed to Ava’s hand. “Your ring is beautiful. Jamie has good taste.”
“He knew what I wanted before I did,” Ava said. “Hey, Em, I’m sorry. Are you mad?”
“I’m not mad. And honestly, I’m really happy for you guys. Good night.”
In her room, she stared out the window, where snow layered the bare tree limbs, and tried to imagine the sun and sand of Sea Blue Beach. She pictured the cute cottages of the Sands Motor Motel, the old brick street going through the east end of town, the Blue Plate Diner, and the semi-famous Starlight skating rink.
She’d become a part of the town as the editor-in-chief of theSea Blue BeachGazette.
Sun, sand, cute cottage, being her own boss, developing a newspaper like Lou did back in the sixties and seventies? Check, check, check, and check.
Emery snatched up her phone before fear walked in with a list of cons.
Elliot, Happy New Year. Sorry to respond so late, but yes, I’ll take the job. Thank you so much.
As her decision settled in, Elliot pinged a reply.
Excellent. We’ll talk tomorrow. Or rather, later today.
Emery readied for bed, then slipped under the covers, clicking off the bedside lamp. She’d finally hammered her square-peg self into that round hole.
2
CALEB
Starting over wasn’t supposed to be this hard. He was an experienced architect with a degree from Cornell. Nationally certified. Working on innovative sustainable designs. He was a man with a plan.
Then Mom called.
“Nothingto worry about. Just a small bit of cancer.”
Small bit of cancer? Was there such a thing? In a singular moment, he was sixteen again, bursting through the back door after football practice into Mom’s fragrant kitchen, into her loving embrace. To his surprise, he wanted to go home. Go to ground. The sandy ground of Sea Blue Beach.
His partner understood, bought Caleb’s half of the business, along with his Belltown loft. Now he lived in a renovated craftsman one street from his parents with an office under the staircase. Six months ago, he hung out his shingle for Ransom Architecture, ran an ad in theGazette, then twiddled his thumbs.
Not really, but that’s what it felt like. Caleb’s experience was in restoration and refurbishment, but he wanted the challenge of a new build.
He landed some consulting work with clients back in Seattle. For three months he worked on a renovation plan for one of the old downtown buildings, a former haberdashery turned vintage shop turned into a yet-to-be business. Two months later he hit a hard stop when the bank foreclosed on the building.
He’d tried to get meetings with some of the prominent developers, but nothing materialized. He bid on Sea Blue Beach projects—all in the West End—but lost to the favorite son, Tommy Lake at JIL Architects. Tommy’s sister was married to town councilman Bobby Brockton, but let’s pretend that had nothing to do with JIL winning every bid.
The East End of Sea Blue Beach had declined since he left for college. Only home for holidays and a week in the summer, he never noticed.
Then last week, the owner of the historic Alderman’s Pharmacy, one of the first businesses in Sea Blue Beach besides the sawmill and roller-skating rink, contracted him to inspect the place and lay out a plan for restoration. Jenny Finch, a digital creator with eight million followers on social media, planned to reopen Alderman’s Pharmacy with the same name, functioning as a lunch counter and soda fountain, just like a hundred years ago. Minus the pharmacy. Everyone filled prescriptions in the West End.
This morning, Mayor Simon Caster knocked on his door with a dozen canisters, all with drawings of the rotting Org. Homestead neighborhood homes. Org., short fororiginal, was where Sea Blue Beach founders, a royal prince from the North Sea island of Lauchtenland and a freed slave, built the first homes. Prince Blue had the money. Malachi Nickle had the skill.
“Can you inspect these?” Simon said. “See what it will take to repair and restore those homes? I’d like to make them affordable housing for young families, or even for seniors on a fixed income.”
The bank had foreclosed on ten of the twelve houses years ago. There’d been talk of bulldozing the area for new development. When the East End folks protested, talk changed to restoration. But there’d been no effort until now.
“We have discretionary funds to dole out,” Simon said, “if I can find buyers. If the West End town council members don’t put up a fuss. They think two-thirds of all money should go to their side.”
“They do bring in most of the tax money,” Caleb said.
Over the past forty years, hotels, shopping centers, large beach homes and condos, along with every kind of tourist attraction, popped up on the western side of Sea Blue Beach, attracting spring breakers, families, conferences, businesses, and pro sports like golf and tennis.
