To the Beach and Back

Chapter 24

There are some phone calls I need to make before leaving.

"Hey, Marcie, I was wondering how you're doing."

Ryan's voice makes me smile.

And of course, he was. Ryan has always cared. After Nick left, I returned to work two days later to find Ryan waiting at my desk with vanilla chi teas and my favorite cookies. On the day of my divorce settlement, he took me out for beers afterward, patiently sitting in silence when I cried. And he was there at lunch two weeks ago, urging me to crawl out of the ditch I've been living in for the past two years.

Urging me to stop choosing people who don't choose me.

And he came to Haven with a truckload of materials and his free time, a tool belt-clad Prince Charming.

He always cared.

And I, in return, have always cared for him but have always been too scared to admit it. I thought it was too late for me to find love, just like my mother always warned me, just like she did believed for herself.

But she was wrong on both counts.

It's not too late for me. And it wasn't for her, either.

I'd do anything to be able to go back in time and do everything differently. I'd take her out to lunch just like Ryan did, telling her the same hard truths. I'd pull her out of bed and take her to a hair salon, so she could see for herself just how liberating a new hairstyle, freshly painted nails, and seaweed exfoliation can feel. I'd help her go shopping for new clothes. To happy hour. Maybe even to the beach so she'd see what it's like to have cool sand between your toes and warm sun on your shoulders.

I'd help her become unstuck from that horrible moment when my father left so she could live again, rather than bury herself in bitterness and anger.

It's too late to help my mom, though, and I can't beat myself up mentally for believing the myth that older women can't begin again. But I brighten her grave site with fresh daisies and pink peonies, her favorite flower, tell her that I love her ...

... and then live myself. Fully and completely. For both of us.

Starting now.

"Hey, Ryan, I'm doing good. Great, even!"

He chuckles. "I like hearing that. How's things going with Haven?"

Oh, boy. I have some catching up to do.

Ryan listens as I tell him about Nick selling the house, which, of course, prompted him to ask about the offer and contract details to make sure we got a good deal. I fill him in on all the work I had finished before the sale and the projects the buyers will take over after settlement.

And that I'm now back home.

"Really? I thought her were staying until Friday," he says, "not that I haven't been missing you at the office!"

Ditto. I missed him, too. But I still have more work to do at the beach. Not on Haven, though.

On me. On that sand bucket list that I refused to let go unfinished. On my friends.

And mostly, Sadie.

"Um, well ... here's the thing. You've already been so amazingly kind and generous ... but is there any way I can take a few more days off work so I can go back to the beach? Not at your house. I've already used enough of your hospitality. Holda says I can—"

He cuts me off.

"Hold on. Are you telling me that you, Marcie James, the self-proclaimed beach hater wants to go back to Ocean City?"