He had spent his life in the pursuit of logic, mathematical theory, and the orderly progression of a well-planned career. Now he felt off-balance, incomplete. He had come back to theLowcountry because it was the only place where the air felt ripe with happy memories that buoyed his spirit. Seven years ago, an interim semester at the College of Charleston had led to a summer he still revisited in his sleep. It had been a season of heatwaves and late-night debates with Scarlett, a brilliant, math-minded senior student who had challenged his cynical views on academia with her raw, unfiltered intellect.
With another annoyed glance at his shoes, he turned into the Palmetto Perk coffee shop. It wasn’t the beach, but the caffeine boost would be welcome for unpacking once he reached his rental. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass door—his dark hair was showing silver at the temples, and the lines around his eyes were deeper. From laughter as well as his recreational time outdoors hiking, surfing, and skiing. No regrets over any of that. But his forehead was showing signs of intense concentration.
He couldn’t change that either.
Good grief, he had to stop wallowing. He was at a crossroads, that’s all. Life happened. So what if he was starting over unexpectedly? Pasting a smile on his face, he made the decision—again—to enjoy the month of vacation time.
At the counter, the barista’s gaze drifted upward and he could see her calculating. His height brought that assessing expression all the time.
“Welcome to the Perk. What can I get you, sir?” the barista asked, with that polite Southern charm he’d almost forgotten. Her name tag read,Willow.
Cooper scanned the menu and couldn’t work up enthusiasm for any of the special drinks. “Just a black coffee,” he decided. As the barista poured, he noticed a stack of flyers by the register advertising the Brookwell Music Festival scheduled for the first weekend in August. “Is there a lot of live music on the island?”
“As much as we can get.” Willow rang up the sale and he handed her cash. “Open mic nights at the Pelican Pub, usually once a week. Regional bands show up on the weekends so the locals can listen and have some input on who we invite to the festival. And Charleston has a wide variety of musical options too. Are you looking for something in particular?”
“Last time I was in the area, I found a few guitar players to hang out with. We had a great time. But that was in Charleston.”
Something flashed in the barista’s eyes. “If you like guitar, you should check out the Pelican Pub tonight. One of my friends will be on stage tonight. I swear she should be performing professionally.”
“Good to know.” Cooper nodded, pocketing his change.
“It’s open mic night,” she added. “If you’re so inclined.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” he admitted. Of course he’d brought his guitar, but performing for an audience wasn’t as easy as people wanted to believe. “And I need to unpack.”
“Either way, the Pelican is a great place to hang out and relax.”
“No dress code?”
The barista laughed. “Around here, ‘resort casual’ is about as fancy as it gets.” He must’ve looked as perplexed as he felt, because she explained. “For you that would mean a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts with a belt and boat shoes. But tonight, you’ll find more jeans, flip-flops, and tees.”
“Got it.” Some things were exactly the same on this side of the country.
“Where are you visiting from?”
He remembered this sort of gentle interrogation from his summer as an interim professor. He’d acclimated so quickly back then that the lack of genuine interest out west was another culture shock. “Northern California.”
“Well, I’m glad you found your way to Brookwell.” Her sincerity warmed him more than the coffee in his hand.
He smiled, taking it as a sign that this cross-country trek—outrageous according to his friends—was the right one. “Me too.”
Rather than risk any deeper inquiry, Cooper left the Palmetto Perk and continued to the beach. Crossing the dunes at the boardwalk, he toed off his shoes and socks and rolled his pants up a bit. What good was a beach walk that didn’t include some wading? He loved the feel of the water rolling over his feet and tugging at him as it raced back to join the ocean.
He crossed the warm, loose sand down to the tideline, wading through the cool foamy edge of the waves until he found a spot that didn’t feel as if he was intruding on others. Several families were on the beach today and he recognized the college spring-break groups too, by age and the music they were playing.
Somehow it all combined to make him feel older and isolated. Staring toward the horizon, he thought about where he was and what he wanted. He didn’t have a family. Hadn’t dated in months.
Wait. Months?
Annoyed with himself, he moved away from the water and sat down in the sand. After settling his coffee cup in the sand, he pulled out his phone, scrolling back through his calendar until he found a note of his last date—ten months ago.
Ten. Months. How had he let his social life fizzle away?
Sure, he was serious when it came to his students, prioritizing their needs. But it wasn’t as if every student in his classes asked for extra help or needed his undivided attention. It wasn’t as if there weren’t plenty of academic breaks in that time frame. Where had he let that time go? He hadn’t been plotting anovel or researching a pet project. He’d simply detached himself from his personal life without even realizing it.
Pathetic, but true.
But he had the power to change it. Right now.
