The Runaway Mom

Chapter 15

'I'm at the beach; do not go looking for me around here.' I pen a note and stick it on the fridge door.

Grabbing my bridge camera, I step out of the beach house and head down the winding path to the main beach. Glancing at my wristwatch, it reads forty-five past the hour—it's just a quick five-minute jaunt away. I take big strides, occasionally breaking into a quick jog for no particular reason, eager to get there faster. Saoirse's place is already on my mind as I navigate the well-trodden route.

"Oh, hey! Hello there, beautiful!"

Saoirse's familiar voice rings out from her quaint beachfront souvenir boutique on the beach, a fixture since she was seven. Chuckling and shaking my head, I walk in her direction. She's grown up behind that counter, diligently producing photocard memories, distributing colorful brochures, and selling her charming seaside trinkets. It's hard to believe she's already eighteen.

'Saoirse Paige: From Page to Paige Memoir,' the sign hanging proudly above her small souvenir shop reads. I lift my camera to snap a picture, and she promptly strikes a pose beneath it.

"What brings the supermodel here?"

"Who could resist the coquette girl's best boutique for young girls and the young at heart, hmm? Besides, I'd like to see one of my favorite girls behind the counter," I pinch her nose and she giggles.

"Pleasure is mine."

The store is done in pastel pink, with every corner filled with pretty pinks. It's crazy how there are so many cute, knitted items she's made. Shelves are lined with beaded earrings, colorful bracelets, and all sorts of summer must-haves like floral anklets and seashell necklaces. Delicate scarves drape elegantly next to handmade keychains, and there are even charming little pouches perfect for holding tiny treasures.

It's just amazing, especially knowing it's all handmade. Saoirse usually starts crafting them each winter, meticulously working through the colder months to fill her shop with these delightful creations. No wonder the Midways have promoted it across all their social media platforms and are frequently featured.

"I just love this outlet, Polly. You've done a really great job," I comment, as I wander around the space.

"Thank you, Poppy. It wouldn't be possible without Mrs. Midways' help and effort, listening to my proposal," she recalls, referring to Mr. Logan Midways' wife.

"Well, she really has seen how wonderful it would be, knowing you're only seven then," I smile.

"Oh, stop. It's too early to be flattered," she blushes.

The door swings open with a creak. "Oh, no, there's never a perfect time to acknowledge how my girl shines so bright. Besides, it's already ten—what do you mean early? Sorry I'm late, anyway," someone says as they enter, their tone slightly out of breath as they catch the tail end of the conversation. Such a social butterfly and a true girl's girl, she reminds me so much of my own Maude—my very own ride-or-die woman. "Hi, Summer!"

Saoirse responds with a wave, "Hi, Lucy!"

"Sorry, I'm late," the girl walks over to the counter. I turn to see her face, and we both freeze.

"Poppy?"

"Lucy!"

"Poppy!" She hurries over to hug me. "I thought Summer was playing a prank on me."

"How dare you, bub?"

She rolls her eyes, "Didn't you prank me by saying you had a boyfriend?" Then she dashes away, and I just laugh, watching Saoirse chase after her. Some things never really change.