Love At The Shore

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Shrimp Scampi

  About the Author

  Love at the Shore

  Copyright @ 2019 Crown Media Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-947892-50-7

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-947892-51-4

  For more about the movie, visit:

  www.hallmarkchannel.com/love-at-the-shore

  Chapter One

  Summer, here we come.

  Jenna Turner stood with her arms crossed, studying the loaded trunk of the SUV. It was parked in the driveway of the cozy home she’d made for her family deep in Savannah’s Victorian district. She was just about ready to say goodbye to the surrounding trees dripping with Spanish moss and the rows of tidy houses dolled up in gingerbread trim. A temporary goodbye, anyway.

  If the crammed state of her car was any indication, there wasn’t anything left inside her year-round home to pack. Just how much stuff did one adult and two kids need for five weeks at the beach?

  All of it, apparently. All of the stuff.

  Why did she get the feeling she was going to need a vacation to recover from all the packing and unpacking involved with moving into a beach house rental on Tybee Island? A vacation from her vacation.

  She somehow wedged the antique typewriter that once belonged to her grandfather into the small space between her laptop and printer. It fit. Sort of. Jenna flashed a triumphant grin at her best friend, Maureen, who was making her way over from the house next door.

  Maureen and her family were also headed to the beach for summer break. But as usual, while Jenna was strategically packing and organizing, Maureen strolled across the lawn as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Jenna envied her cute new summer wardrobe, in colors that perfectly complemented Maureen’s smooth dark complexion. She also envied her friend’s go-with-the-flow personality. Jenna’s own tendency to plan everything down to the finest detail could get a little exhausting. A lot exhausting, if she was really being honest.

  “Hey,” Jenna said, giving the typewriter another shove.

  Maureen aimed a bemused glance at the packed trunk. “Hey.”

  “Every year we say we’re not going to bring too much, and every summer we’re bursting.” Honestly, it was mind-boggling.

  “If you wouldn’t insist on bringing that thing…” Maureen pointed at the typewriter.

  “That thing may look like a dusty old antique, but it helps me brainstorm when I’m stuck. And considering I only have five weeks to finish my book, I need it.” She crossed her arms again and tried not to think about how quickly five weeks could pass. She could do this. She had to. “This whole sequel thing is much more difficult than I thought.”

  A sequel. Her second book contract. Sometimes she had to give her arm a little pinch to remind herself that she’d actually written the book with her name on the cover currently sitting in the window display of her favorite bookshop on River Street.

  Maureen grinned. “Then it’s a good thing you’ll be spending all summer with me for inspiration.”

  “Absolutely.” Jenna laughed, despite the gnawing sense of panic that came over her whenever she thought about her deadline.

  Maureen was right. They had the whole summer to look forward to—nothing but sun, sand and writing. It would be relaxing and productive, just what she needed.

  “Hi, Maureen.” Nick, Jenna’s eleven-year-old son, bounded out of the house with his younger sister, Ally, hot on his heels.

  “Bye, Maureen.” Ally waved as she and her brother made a beeline for the car.

  Jenna held up her hands. “Wait, wait, wait: final check. Nick, did you grab your retainer?”

  He nodded. “Yes-th, it’s in my mouth.”

  “Please don’t pretend-lisp.” Jenna lifted a brow at the suspiciously empty-looking backpack hanging from her daughter’s slim shoulders. “Ally, did you get your summer reading?”

  “You can just call it homework, Mom.”

  “As long as you have it, sweetie. We can work on semantics later.” She was almost certain the books were packed in Ally’s luggage somewhere. Ally had always been a big reader, and now that she was nine years old, she’d begun devouring chapter books from the local library.

  Given Ally’s sweet tooth, she’d probably reserved her backpack for the brownies Jenna had baked last night for their road trip.

  “Can Grayson ride with us?” Nick shot Maureen a hopeful grin. Her son Grayson was Nick’s closest friend.

  “If any of us were actually packed, yes.” Maureen sighed.

  Nick and Ally piled into the backseat, which meant Jenna had approximately ten seconds to get behind the wheel or Ally would break out the brownies.

  Still, she felt bad leaving her friend behind. “You sure you don’t want us to wait for you?”

  “As much as I’d love to get my hands on your super-neat packing skills, you remember last year?” Ah, yes. Maureen’s husband, Ian, had spent nearly an hour trying to make room for their gas grill in the trunk of their car alongside their suitcases. It never fit. “And the year before?”

  “Yeah.” Jenna winced. The year before, there’d been a similar delay involving a giant inflatable beach ball.

  Maureen nodded, and her eyes danced with laughter. “We’re a slow-moving team.”

  Accurate. But as usual, Maureen seemed as calm and unruffled as a yoga teacher.

  “You’re right. We’ll meet you there.” Jenna couldn’t keep the smile off her face. The perfect summer was just one short road trip away.

  “See ya. Bye, guys.” Maureen poked her head in the backseat to make sure Nick and Ally had fastened their seat belts before clicking the car door closed.

  All Jenna had to do before they were off was grab her purse and keys from the foyer.

  “Bye, house,” she said in a melodic voice as she locked the door.

  Then, with a Beach Boys song playing in her head, she climbed behind the wheel and headed off for five weeks in paradise.

  The island was less than an hour’s drive from Savannah, but it might as well have been a world away. It was a sunny, sandy oasis, where Ally and Nick could play on the beach while Jenna worked on her manuscript without the pressures of homework, carpool and all the craziness that accompanied the school year. More importantly, it was their own special tradition—their first as a family of three.

  Since her divorce four years ago, Jenna had sworn t
o herself that she’d still make Nick and Ally’s childhoods as stable and happy as possible. According to her stack of parenting books, traditions instilled kids with comfort and a sense of belonging. The beach house rental had been their very first tradition as a trio. The summers Jenna spent at the beach as a kid were some of her fondest memories, so she’d booked a vacation home on Tybee the minute school was out. All these years later, it was still their favorite time of year.

  Within minutes of merging onto the interstate, the lush oaks, cypresses and draping greenery of Savannah gave way to salty breezes and windswept marshes. When a seagull swooped into view, Jenna’s heart gave a little squeeze. Every so often, she caught a glimpse of sand and cool blue ocean through a break in the vegetation.

  Not much farther.

  “How about a map update, Nick?” She met her son’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

  He peered at her cell phone, which she’d set to navigation and surrendered to the kids in hopes of avoiding the inevitable are-we-there-yet questions. “I think she just said we’re close.”

  Ally moved to pry the phone out of his hands. “Is it near Ocean Burger?”

  Nick shook his head and maintained his grip. “You always want to go to Ocean Burger.”

  “You always want to go to Splash Café,” Ally countered.

  True. Last summer Jenna could have run a shuttle bus between the two restaurants.

  “Well, we’re changing things up this year. New rental house, new summer camp.” She and Maureen had found the perfect day camp for the kids, complete with beach activities and an Olympic-sized pool. While Ally was busy making sandcastles and Nick challenged Grayson to one freestyle race after another, Jenna would be free to work on her book in tranquil silence. It was a total win-win situation.

  She just hoped the beach house she’d booked was as cozy and welcoming as it looked online. She’d been so consumed with working on the plot for her sequel that she’d booked their rental home later than usual. Consequently, the place they’d stayed for the past few years had been unavailable. She’d had no choice but to reserve someplace completely new. Luckily, she’d found something roomy enough, but the end of the school year had been crammed with so many activities that she hadn’t even been able to do a drive-by and check it out.

  “Does that mean it’s not near Ocean Burger?” In the backseat, Ally deflated.

  “We can still go. It just means that we have to drive to get there.” Jenna glanced to her left, where the shore was beginning to stretch parallel to the highway, still barely visible through the sea oats. “All right, we’re getting close. Tell me your goals.”

  Summer goal-setting was another of their family traditions. Last year, Nick caught his first fish in the surf and after days of combing through the sand, Ally accomplished her goal of finding a perfect, round sand dollar.

  “I don’t have anything new.” Nick shrugged. “I just want to make swim team next year.”

  “You’ve got all summer to practice, bud. You can do it this time.”

  He was so close. Last year, he’d only missed the required lap time by ten seconds.

  Ally’s goal, on the other hand, was a tad less serious. “Can I just eat chocolate all summer?”

  Laughter bubbled up Jenna’s throat. “Um, no. You can have some chocolate, but maybe you could pick a goal that’s a little less…sugary?”

  Ally thought for a minute. “Oh, I know! Play at camp so you can finish your book?”

  Jenna nodded. “Both of our goals rolled into one. I like the efficiency.”

  “Thank you.” Ally giggled, and Jenna had the distinct feeling that chocolate still had a prominent place on her daughter’s summer agenda.

  But right then, the beach came fully into view and goals suddenly seemed like the last thing Jenna should be worried about when so much beauty stretched out before them—the glittering blue ocean, sea oats dancing in the breeze and sand so white it made the shoreline look like an upturned bowl of sugar.

  “Here it is! Are you guys excited? I’m excited!” Year after year, Jenna’s first glimpse of the coast never failed to take her breath away. “You guys, check this out. The beach looks awesome.”

  Nick and Ally’s backseat bickering gave way to happy chatter as she turned the car off the highway and onto Campbell Avenue at the intersection where the beach town’s legendary welcome sign stood. Welcome to Tybee Island! Was it silly that the sight of that sign always made Jenna a little misty-eyed? Like the shore itself, the welcome sign with its giant sea turtle had been there as long as she could remember. The town’s incorporation date, 1887, was proudly displayed beneath it. Tybee had been welcoming beachcombers for more than one hundred years, and in so many ways, coming here was like stepping back in time.

  Life was simpler here…more peaceful.

  And a peaceful summer was precisely what Jenna needed.

  “Look at the turtle,” Nick said.

  Ally’s reply was the same every year. “Oh, that’s so cool.”

  Jenna smiled to herself and made a mental note to take the kids on a hunt for sea turtle nests on the dunes. Tybee was a nesting ground for endangered loggerhead turtles, and the island treated breeding loggerheads with great care.

  “Oh, I can’t wait.” She took a deep breath and pulled into the short drive leading up to the beach house that would be their home for the next five weeks.

  What if it wasn’t as nice as it looked on the realty company’s website? She’d splurged and used a good portion of her book advance to get a house right on the water. Jenna’s first book had been an instant bestseller, allowing her to quit writing freelance articles for the Savannah Morning News. No more write-ups on local 5K fundraisers or lost dog notices. She was in the big leagues now. Sometimes this new career seemed too good to be true. Jenna just hoped that wasn’t the case with the photos of the beach cottage she’d seen online. The pictures made the house seem so charming, so inviting.

  Miraculously, the beach house stood at the end of the drive, looking even more idyllic in person than it had on the screen of her laptop. It was painted pale turquoise—the exact color of beach glass—with freshly painted white trim. The big shuttered windows promised a front-row seat to a summer of fiery ocean sunrises.

  It was the perfect beach bungalow. And for five weeks, it was all theirs.

  Sort of, anyway. Technically, since the house was a duplex, it was only half theirs. But half of this gorgeous place was all they needed.

  Jenna let out a relieved exhale. “We’re here.”

  Nick and Ally piled out of the car, too excited to remember their backpacks. Jenna grabbed her purse and caught up with them before they headed up the wooden staircase leading to the duplex’s entrance. “All right you guys, let’s check it out. We’ll grab the stuff later.”

  “Man, this is awesome.” Nick was the first to reach the top of the steps. He reached for the knob of the door to their half of the cottage. “This is us. Right here.”

  Ally bolted past him, toward the screened-in porch of their neighbor. “Dog! We’ve got a dog! I’ve always wanted one.”

  Oh, boy.

  Jenna glanced over Ally’s shoulder. Sure enough, a shaggy white dog sprawled belly-up on the cushion of their neighbor’s white wicker sofa as if it was his own personal dog bed. “Not our dog, sweetie.”

  “Maybe like half of him is ours?” Ally was clearly taking the whole duplex concept a bit too far.

  “Can we get the top half?” Nick said.

  Probably the preferable half, if they were going to share the dog. Which they most definitely were not. “We don’t even know if he’s friendly yet.”

  Thankfully, Nick was more concerned about where he’d be sleeping than dividing up a strange dog. “I call top bunk.”

  Jenna was one step ahead of this argument. They’d been down this road four summers in a row. �
��Actually, we have two bunks.”

  Ally was still determined to one-up her brother. “Then I call biggest cookie.”

  Nick shook his head. “Do you ever stop thinking about food?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe someday when I’m older.” Ally waved goodbye to the sleeping dog and followed Nick back to the proper half of the house so they could explore their summer home.

  Jenna lingered for a moment. Her gaze shifted from the dog, all twitching paws and soft snores, to the surrounding mess. A damp wet suit was slung over a chair. The porch’s floor was littered with sandy footprints, both human and canine, and dog toys. A half-empty coffee cup and what looked like a chunk of driftwood sat in the middle of a weathered coffee table. The table itself looked like something that might have washed up on the beach during a hurricane.

  She inhaled a deep, yoga-esque breath.

  The picture-perfect beach house she’d been dreaming about for weeks was, in fact, too good to be true. Her neighbor was a dog-owning slob. Were pets even legal in a short-term rental?

  Don’t panic.

  In the scheme of things, it really wasn’t a big deal, was it? Of course not. The mess wasn’t Jenna’s problem, even if the sight of the wetsuit activated her mothering instinct in a major way. If someone didn’t hang it up soon, the chair’s cushions would be soaked…which could lead to mold.

  Again, not her problem.

  She turned around and headed back to her own territory, nodding with satisfaction when she caught a glimpse of the screened-in porch on her half of the duplex—neat as a pin, complete with a stunning ocean view. Better yet, there wasn’t a wet suit or strange animal in sight.

  The inside of the cottage was just as charming as the exterior. Decorated in soft blues and greens, with sweeping sea views, it felt fit for a mermaid. She’d been silly to worry about the unseen neighbor.

  “I think I can see the summer day camp from my bed,” Nick said, as he and Ally sorted through a welcome basket the realty company had left on the whitewashed dining room table.

  Jenna opened one of the bins they’d carried upstairs and peered inside. After a quick look at the house, they’d unloaded the car. All that was left to do was unpack. A place for everything and everything in its place. “It should be really close.”