But who cared?For today—one day only—I was a tourist in Hastings Rock.
Instead of taking my bike, I drove into town.Main Street had already slowed to a crawl, even though it was still early (ten in the morning is early for some people), and the parking lots were crammed with out-of-towners.I faced off with a family from Idaho in their Chevy Tahoe, and I won—I got the last spot in the public lot closest to the beach.After all that excitement, I checked myself in the mirror and said, “I need a vacation from my vacation.”
I spent some time wandering Main Street.If you’ve never been to Hastings Rock, it definitely meets the criteria for picturesque: the downtown is a charming potpourri of coastal cottages and beach bungalows and modern houses with lots of glass and concrete.There were stately old Victorians looking down their noses at all of us.And everywhere, everything was geared toward tourists.An artisanal cheese shop.A store with only local wines.A glassblowing studio that offered free tours.Although parts of Main Street featured timber-clad shopping centers, many of the stores were located in repurposed homes.A Cape Cod with shake siding appeared to sell nothing but wind chimes.
I stopped at the first store I came to and went in.It was the usual stuff—T-shirts that saidHastings Rock – A Whale of a TownandHastings Rock is for Lovers(which seemed like a trademark violation) and just plain oldHastings Rock.I found a hat that said DAD VIBES and bought it.In the next little shop, I found a pair of gas station sunglasses and added those to the outfit.All I needed was black socks to wear with my Birks, and I’d be set.
Every store had something slightly different to offer.Sure, you had a lot of repeats (Hastings Rock – A Whale of a Townmust have really caught the public imagination at some point).There were the same gaudy earrings, the same cheap bracelets, the same wooden trinkets.But in one shop, you might find a Hastings Rock-branded water bottle.And in another, you might find Hastings Rock-exclusive underwear.I found one pair that featured a, uh, prominent Sasquatch, and I got so flustered I walked into a dressing room by accident.
I bought a T-shirt for my dad that said,My parents went to Hastings Rock, and all they got me was this lousy T-shirt.He could cut it up, I figured.He always needed rags to clean his guns.For my mom, I found a sea-glass necklace.I made a mental bet with myself about how many books she’d write before someone was murdered with a sea-glass necklace.
And then I discovered (remembered?) the real beauty of being a tourist.
Treats.
There was a place that sold crepes.
There was a place that sold ice cream.
There was a place that sold ice cream inside of crepes.
There was cotton candy, and something called sea foam (weirdly delicious), and a place that had a Hastings Rock-themed cinnamon roll, I kid you not, the size of my head.And everywhere—everywhere—salt-water taffy.Enough salt-water taffy to choke a whale, which isn’t a saying, but it is now that I came up with it.
I was attacking a peanut-butter-and-Nutella crepe in one hand (from a place called Crepe You Very Much) and, in the other, a double-scoop waffle cone of chocolate peanut butter cup (from a place called Two Girls and a Scoop) when I almost crashed into Deputy Bobby.He and his boyfriend, West, stepped out of a boutique at the exact moment I was trying to fit one of the scoops—yes, the entire scoop—inside my mouth.Partly because it was melting too fast.And partly to see if I could.
“Dash?”West said.
“Hi,” I said around a mouthful of chocolate peanut butter cup.
Deputy Bobby grinned.It was only there for an instant, and then it was gone.West seemed to be processing my outfit, and the expression on his face started at horror and then shifted to amusement.“Oh my God, that’s hilarious.”
“Um, thanks.”(Mouth still full of ice cream, by the way.)
“And the ice cream cone, oh my God.”
I finally managed to swallow the ice cream.Instant brain freeze.“It’s chocolate,” I said, for lack of anything better.Because my brain was frozen.“With peanut butter cup.”
“You’re hilarious,” West said.“I’m so glad you moved here.”
Deputy Bobby looked like he was trying not to laugh.
“Oh my God,” West said, “we’re so late.But, Dash, we have to get together soon.Bye!”
I wiped some chocolate from my chin and mumbled, “Bye.”
As Deputy Bobby passed me, he tugged on the bill of my cap and mouthed, “Dad vibes.”
2
“You have to come,” West said on the phone.“This town is so boring.This town is death.Please, please, please come.”
“Um,” I said.I looked around the bedroom.I needed an excuse.Any excuse.But my bedroom at Hemlock House, although a beautifully preserved specimen of a Victorian home, did not lend itself to fabricating modern, uh, fibs.There just wasn’t anything to spark the imagination.What was I supposed to say?My horse needs a tune-up?I’m winding my clocks?
“Perfect,” West said.“I love you.You’re the best, and we’re going to have so much fun.See you at seven.Oh, what are you wearing?Wouldn’t it be the cutest if we matched?It would make Bobby so jealous.”
I had my doubts that much of anything made Deputy Bobby jealous.Instead of getting jealous, Deputy Bobby probably gave everyone involved some heavy eye contact and then expressed his feelings in an adult way.Deputy Bobby probably said, with his usual total earnestness, things like,I want to tell you how your actions made me feel tonight.Deputy Bobby probably had a talking stick.
“What if we both went as sluts?”West asked.
