"You are the worst boy, Theodore Laurence."
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For centuries, humankind has used the stars. Whether it be for navigating across unfamiliar oceans, for preserving myths and legends of great heroes who were bestowed a spot in the heavens by the gods...
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AS SUMMER ROLLED into Concord, Massachusetts, it did so slowly. Charlotte still awoke to dewy spring mornings where the emerald grass sparkled with condensation collected from the damp night air, and bone-chilling winds still sent ripples along the river for hours until the sun thawed the cold and enveloped the tiny town in its warmth. As the afternoon crept on, the sun would beat down mercilessly until a thin layer of sweat moistened Charlotte's face, and she would dream of the coolness of spring again.
One morning as the dew was still collecting on the leaves, Laurie had sent them a letter. A proper letter that was addressed to them in an elegant font that didn't match his usual boyish writing, inviting them to a day at the beach. He teased them about a surprise pair of guests, Fred Vaughn and his sister Kate, and told them to expect "absolute fun." No room was left for argument, and two days later they squeezed into the Laurence's phaeton and headed off for the coast.
"Is that it?" Charlotte asked, standing on her feet unsteadily as the phaeton trembled over the uneven road when they approached the beach. Gold and green seagrass sat along the sand in small mountains, and the beach was already crawling with little children chasing each other through the waves and couples strolling through the sand with linked arms.
The beaches of Charlotte's childhood were rocky, cold, and frequently tormented by strong winds and the bitter cold that clung to the air even at the height of summer. But as she stared down the slope of the golden and sandy beach, where the sea lapped happily along the edge and a sunny breeze greeted her like a warm hug, Charlotte felt excitement bubble up in her chest.
They were greeted by a pair of siblings who stood beside each other with a fine air. The girl was about Meg's age and the boy was dressed as if he was going out to the city and not the beach. He kept occupying himself with adjusting his jacket buttons, nervously letting his fingers button and unbutton the last pair, until his sister swatted his hands away and reminded him to act properly.
"This is Fred Vaughn and his sister Kate." Laurie introduced the siblings as soon as everyone was settled. Fred grinned widely, while his sister dipped her chin ever so slightly and flashed a polite smile. "And of course you know Mr. Brooke." Mr. Brooke stuffed his hands in his pockets awkwardly as he gave a tiny nod.
Laurie spun around, sending sand into the air as he gestured to all the girls. "And this is Meg, Amy, Beth, Jo, and their cousin Charlotte."
Fred spoke delightedly, "so pleased to meet you."
Charlotte immediately liked him, for he didn't seem as stuffy and boring as she had assumed from Laurie's exaggerated stories.
"Oh, how elegant." Amy gushed at his British accent, feeling her cheeks redden as she took a confident step forward. Her content smile was replaced with a suddenly serious expression. "Remember the name "Amy March." I'm going to come find you one day in London." Amy gave Fred a decided nod of her head, making her golden ringlets spill out from under her hat.
