“Tell me more about it, Mom. You haven’t really given me that many details.”
She considered how to paint this picture without making it too rosy—or being disingenuous. “Well, the ocean is beautiful. That obviously won’t have changed. And you’ll see it soon enough.”
“What about our house, Mom? And don’t tell me it’s falling down.”
“The house...” She imagined the picturesque cottage with its weathered cedar shingles and white painted trim. “Well, I do recall the toilet had to be flushed twice ... and the musty smell of the back porch and how the front porch sagged a little.”
“Tell me somethinggood, Mom.”
“Let’s see ... the living room had this massive rock fireplace. I think my great-grandfather built it. The stonework was really pretty ... although the fire would smoke up the house on a windy day.” She sighed. “But the truth is I loved that smell. It would seep into my clothes, kind of like being around a campfire. And then there was my little dormer bedroom. It was tiny, but I loved it. My window looked out over the sea.” She smiled at Jackson. “In fact, you can use that room if you like.” Although she wasn’t eager to take occupancy of her grandparents’ downstairs bedroom, it would be the “grown-up” thing to do.
“Awesome!” He nodded. “Tell me more about our house.”
“My next-favorite room was probably the kitchen. It had a big old gas stove and a linoleum floor that squeaked when you walked. There were buttery yellow cabinets and blue-and-white checked curtains on the windows. And Gammi used to make the best clam chowder—from clams that we dug ourselves. I hope I can find her recipe.”
“How old were you when your grandma died?”
“I was in college,” she said sadly.
“And then your parents died right after that?” His voice was laced with longing and she felt bad for the way her son had been deprived of extended family. Edward’s parents had their own busy lives down in Fort Lauderdale, and hers had been killed in the car wreck.
“It was a few years later—you weren’t even one when my parents died.”
“But you must’ve been close to your grandpa? I mean, since he left you his beach house.”
“I never thought that we were close, exactly. Poppa was a pretty stern man. At least I thought so when I was little. He always seemed very serious and set in his ways. But he did love to go fishing—and sometimes he took me with him.” She hadn’t even told Jackson about Poppa’s boat, but she doubted it was still around. “I do know that Poppa loved me. And he really loved Gammi. I never doubted that. But I spent most of my time with Gammi. She was always willing to go down to the beach with me, or ride bikes into town. And on a rainy day, she could always come up with something fun to do—card games, puzzles, baking. She was a very good artist and taught me a lot about painting.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re such a good artist, Mom.”
“Well, that’s an overstatement ... but maybe someday I’ll have time to take it up again.”
“So it was just you and your grandparents there—for thewholesummer every summer?”
“Sometimes Aunt Kay and Uncle Rob and my cousin, Larry, would come. But they never stayed long.” She chuckled. “But that was fine with me since Larry and I never really got along too well.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know ... I guess he wasn’t interested in outdoor things.”
“Not interested?” Jackson frowned.
“He never wanted todoanything. He didn’t want to go fishing or clamming or shell gathering. I couldn’t even get him to build a sandcastle with me.”
“Sounds pretty boring.”
“Yeah. I always felt relieved when they went home.”
“What about your parents? Did they ever go to Seaside with you?” He sounded intent on fitting all the puzzle pieces of this fragmented family together.
“Not much. They both had their work and their lives in the city. My mom would show up sometimes on a weekend, you know, since Gammi and Poppa were her parents. But I always got the impression she was just putting in her time. She didn’t like being there. She’d complain about the wind or the dampness or how sand was in everything. Plus my mom didn’t like seafood at all. And Poppa loved fishing almost better than anything. That’s about all we ate. Probably one reason I love all kinds of seafood now.”
“Well, your grandpa must’ve loved you a lot, Mom, to leave his cottage to you like he did.”
“I think he knew how much I enjoyed being there. He left his other house, in upstate New York, to my cousin, Larry. And since there were only two grandkids, I suppose it seemed fair to leave the cottage to me.” She felt a different wave of guilt now, wishing she’d taken Jackson to Seaside sooner ... while his great-grandfather was still living. Although she’d faithfully sent cards and letters and photos to Poppa, she’d never been able to make the trip back there. Certainly she’d had plenty of good excuses—work and life demands and then Edward’s illness. But now it was too late.
“What was your most favorite thing about summers in Seaside?”
“My most favorite thing?” She considered this. “With so many wonderful memories, it’s hard to say. I loved just being at the cottage with Gammi. I also enjoyed getting ice cream in town ... and fishing with Poppa ... but my most favorite thing was probably the beach itself. Seaside has a good shell-collecting beach. I loved going out early in the morning, searching for treasures.”
