Beach Colors Read online

  As she stood there, the front door opened and the “Toreador Song” echoed through the house. Someone went into the salon. Margaux picked up a lighter shade of blue pastel and added another swirl to the skirt.

  She felt movement beside her and looked down to see Connor Prescott, standing close and gazing at her sketch. It was as if he materialized out of thin air. His grandmother or uncle must be close by.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi,” the boy breathed. He smiled up at her and went back to looking at her dress design.

  She bent down beside him. “Well, what do you think?”

  He looked from the sketch to her, his big brown eyes so sweet it was heartbreaking.

  “It’s the ocean,” he said.

  Margaux looked back at the dress sketch. “It is the ocean. You are so smart.”

  He said something. She leaned closer.

  “I like you.”

  “Well, thank you. I like you, too.”

  “Connor. Connor, where are you?”

  Margaux stood up, and Connor pressed close to her.

  “Connor!”

  “He’s in here,” Margaux called, her hand going instinctively to the boy’s shoulder.

  Nick stepped into the doorway and froze. He looked tired and harried, but he wasn’t looking at his nephew. He was looking at Margaux.

  Linda pushed him through the door. “Did I mention that Margaux is my new tenant?”

  “No, you didn’t.” Ignoring both women, he stepped toward his nephew. “Connor, you can’t run off like that.”

  Connor cowered against Margaux.

  “Sorry,” Margaux said. “He was giving me his advice about my new sketch.”

  “What?” Nick looked at the row of sketches hanging along the wall.

  “The blue one. He said it was the ocean.”

  “Well, dee and tarnation,” Linda said. “It is the ocean.”

  Nick looked from the sketch to Connor to Margaux and shrugged.

  Linda guffawed out a laugh and Connor shrank even closer to Margaux.

  “Sorry he bothered you,” Nick said.

  “He didn’t.” Connor felt good nestled against her side. A longing erupted deep inside her and she gently pushed the boy away.

  Linda squatted down by Connor. “You two doing manly things this afternoon?”

  She nodded and listened to words Margaux couldn’t hear. “Going to Deke’s?” Linda grinned wickedly. “You know Connor. Margaux was just telling me how she wanted to go to Deke’s.”

  Margaux shook her head.

  Nick shot a fulminating look at Linda.

  Connor took a deep breath. “Can she go with us, Uncle Nick?” And out of the blue, he took Margaux’s hand.

  “Ms. Sullivan is too busy—”

  “Connor, sweetie, I can’t—”

  “She’d love to go. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll lock up.” Linda practically shoved them out the door. “Have a good time and don’t let Margaux eat all the clams.”

  Connor’s shoulders shook with a silent giggle as they walked to the street.

  Margaux tried to pull back when they reached the sidewalk, but Connor held on tight and pulled her toward Nick’s truck. She looked at Nick and shrugged.

  He turned to Margaux. “Do you mind? I just have to drop off some lumber first.”

  “No,” she answered slowly. “But you don’t need to be polite. Linda was just being—”

  “Linda. I know, but Connor wants you to go.”

  “And you always do what Connor wants?”

  He frowned.

  “That wasn’t a judgment.”

  “He never asks for anything much.”

  “I’d love to go.”

  Nick lifted Connor into the cab and helped Margaux in after him. There was a bustle about whose seat belt belonged where and Margaux and Connor giggled a lot while Nick watched stoically.

  The man had no sense of humor.

  At last they were strapped in and ready. They left town, passed the entrance to Little Crescent Beach, and turned into the next side street. The street dead-ended in a clump of trees. Nick pulled the truck to a stop at the last house.

  Connor unbuckled his seat belt. Nick opened the door and Connor scrambled over Margaux and slid down to the ground.

  “Jake has a tree swing,” Nick explained.

  They watched the boy race across the grass. He was several yards away when he came to an abrupt halt. Slowly he turned back and looked at Nick, then Margaux. His excitement drained away to something else. Fear? Pain?

  Nick’s breath caught, then he expelled a sigh. Margaux got a sense of total defeat. It was as if Connor had stopped himself from having fun. Because he expected to be yelled at? Nick was intense and serious, but she could tell he loved the boy. And she also saw his face when Connor lost his enthusiasm and slumped into quiet. It wasn’t anger or disapproval she saw, but sorrow, bone-deep unhappiness.

  “You do what you need to do, I’ll do swing duty.” She struck off across the grass to where Connor stood.

  “Wow, that’s some swing,” Margaux said, taking him by the hand and leading him toward the tire that hung by a rope from an old maple tree.

  He came willingly, but his lip trembled.

  She dropped down beside him. “What is it, sweetie? Do you want me to push you?”

  He nodded.

  “Cool.” She lifted him up and he stuck his legs through the tire opening. “Hold on tight.” She pulled the tire back and gave it a push. He pumped his legs and smiled a big gap-toothed smile. Margaux waited for the “whe-e-e” kids were supposed to make when they swung higher, but it didn’t come.

  The swing died down a bit and Margaux gave it another push.

  Nick came across the lawn.

  Margaux pushed the swing.

  After a few minutes, Nick said, “Thanks for coming.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it,” she said.

  They went back to watching Connor.

  When the swing died down again, Nick walked over to Connor. “Last time, buddy, it’s time to go.”

  Connor immediately stopped pumping and slid out of the tire. No whining, no dawdling. He just came to stand by Margaux and Nick.

  They headed back to the truck. Halfway there, Margaux saw what looked like a path going into the woods.

  “Is that Little Cove beyond those woods?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So that’s where you came from. Is that how you guys always came to the cove?”

  Nick frowned. “Yeah. A friend of mine lives here.”

  “We always wondered where that path led to, but we never went any farther than the Grotto.”

  “The what?”

  “Grotto. It was our secret hideout.”

  He grinned, the first truly amused expression she’d seen from him all day.

  “Would you like to walk down to the cove?”

  “Yeah, I would. If you don’t mind.”

  “Fine by me. Connor’s never been down there. He might like it.”

  Connor had stopped to dig a soda cap out of the ground.

  “Connor, come on, we’re going for a walk.”

  Connor immediately stood and hurried toward them.

  Beneath the trees was cooler than in the sun and Margaux shivered, probably from excitement, which was silly because it was just a normal path. One she knew very well from the other end. And she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why they had never followed it to its beginning.

  The path was too narrow to walk side by side. It was rutted and overgrown as if never used. Roots grew over the earth and fern leaves slapped against their ankles as they walked, and only a few patches of dappled sunlight made its way past the trees.

  Nick led the way. Margaux
walked right behind Connor. Even so, he kept looking back as if making sure she was close by.

  The path curved unexpectedly and Margaux knew they were near the Grotto.

  She almost walked past it, it looked so different from the other side. It was completely hidden. No wonder the boys had never discovered them.

  “Wait,” she said. “There it is.” She felt a little weird about showing it to strangers, but she didn’t think Bri and Grace would mind, and she bet Connor would be impressed with a secret hideout.

  Connor and Nick both stopped. Ignoring Nick, she crouched down next to Connor. “Do you want to see the secret hideout my friends and I had when we were kids?”

  He nodded, his eyes round. She motioned for him to follow her. “It’s over here.”

  The underbrush had already been trampled where they had visited the Grotto the week before. She stopped when she was at the edge of the overhang. “There it is,” she whispered. Connor leaned over and peered inside.

  She could feel Nick standing behind them.

  Connor said something. It sounded like “cool.”

  “You have to duck-walk to get inside.”

  “Look before you step,” said the voice of authority behind her.

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Margaux said automatically.

  She heard Connor’s puff of laughter.

  The two of them duck-walked inside and crouched beneath the ledge. Connor grinned up at her.

  Nick braced his hand against the overhang and peered in at them.

  “You really didn’t know about this place?” Margaux asked.

  “Nope. I guess we were too anxious to get to the cove to swim to pay much attention.”

  “And to spy on the girls?”

  “That, too.” He smiled. Once again it transformed his face. Made him seem human and even approachable.

  Which was a good thing, since she probably shouldn’t be out in the woods with a man she didn’t know. Of course, she had Connor to protect her. The thought made her smile and the three of them kept smiling until Nick pulled away.

  “We’d better get going.”

  Connor duck-walked out and stood up, Margaux followed him and gladly accepted the hand Nick held out to help her up.

  “I was shorter in those days,” she explained.

  They continued down the path until a triangle of blue appeared between the trees, and suddenly they were standing on the pebbled beach, blue water spreading out before them, the color of Margaux’s latest design.

  Twelve

  They spent half an hour skipping stones on the water, though neither Connor nor Margaux was very good, even after Nick helped them with their technique. But they laughed a lot, at least Margaux did, and she thought Connor did because his whole body vibrated when something funny happened.

  Nick did seem to lighten up a bit, but Margaux was beginning to think he never unwound completely. Maybe he didn’t even know how. Which was a shame.

  They took off their shoes, waded across the cove, and climbed the rocks of the jetty where Margaux pointed out her house to Connor. She felt Nick tense beside her and realized that he was looking at the old lifeguard stand and she cursed herself for making the suggestion.

  The sun was beginning to head toward the horizon as they retraced their steps back to the truck. Margaux had spent more time than she’d planned with them and she knew she should use that as an excuse to get out of going to Deke’s. She was aware of how people would jump to the wrong conclusions.

  But it had been so long since she’d just had fun that she brushed her good sense aside. So instead of asking Nick to drop her off at the marina when they drove back toward town, she stayed quiet and concentrated on the passing scenery.

  They turned onto the bumpy road that led through the salt marshes to the narrow bridge that was the only access to the Crescent Cove beach and boardwalk.

  One minute they were on a paved street flanked by stores and houses, the next they were surrounded by delicate stalks of marsh grass that swayed and shimmered in the breeze. All around them the fragile tips reflected peridot and amber from the setting sun.

  Margaux gasped. “Stop, please.”

  The truck screeched to a stop. “What is it?”

  “Can you wait just a minute? I’ll be right back.” She was already getting out of the truck.

  An idea had exploded in her head. She had to get a better look, engrave the subtle colors in her brain before memory dimmed them into gray.

  “Or go ahead, I’ll meet you at Deke’s.”

  Near the bridge, a wooden platform jutted a few feet into the sanctuary. She walked out to the end. All around her, shades of green, gold, and silver glimmered and changed with the light or with a passing cloud. She let her peripheral vision melt the grasses into a myriad of shades, tones, and luminosity, all combining to create a sea of living color.

  She heard a car door shut, the patter of feet behind her, and turned to see Connor running toward her. As he reached her he opened his arms, his eyes wide and dark and lonely.

  She caught him up, swinging him onto her hip and pointing out to the marsh. “Look at that. What do you think, Connor? Shall we make a dress the color of salt grass?”

  He nodded, then pointed toward the horizon. An egret lifted out of the grass, its white wings spreading against the blue sky and flying across the sun until it was merely a silhouette.

  “And an egret, too,” she said. “You are such a smart boy.”

  He’d seen what she had been missing. It was out there, vibrant and alive. Had been surrounding her all along, but she hadn’t seen it. She had been too busy reacting—to her impending divorce, to losing her job, to something she couldn’t name until now as she gazed at the marshland. Fear. She was afraid. To let herself come out in her designs, to face life alone, to let herself be attracted to a man with whom she had nothing in common. To find joy again.

  It was calling to her, that missing something. Somehow she had to capture it and bring it back into her life again.

  As she stood there with Connor, she wasn’t seeing marsh grass. She saw silk chiffon, shimmering in the lights of the runway. It was a stunning idea. Could she translate these colors from nature to cloth?

  The sun flared from behind a white cloud as it settled toward the horizon. But Margaux was seeing a gown of red, gold, pink, mauve, a train the colors of sunset fanning out behind it like the sun itself.

  Nick came up beside them. “What are you doing?”

  “Seeing color,” Margaux said, and laughed. “Isn’t that right, Connor?”

  Connor nodded and wrapped his arms around her neck.

  Suddenly she was aware of how crazy she looked, of how she’d picked up Connor without thinking. She let him slide down her hip and peeled his arms from her neck.

  “Sorry, I got a little carried away.” She turned back to the truck. Nick took Connor’s hand. Connor reached for Margaux’s hand and he skipped between them until they reached the road.

  They were quiet as they drove over the bridge to the boardwalk. It wasn’t a true boardwalk. The walk was actually asphalt, though big chunks had heaved out of it over the last decade and weeds grew up in the cracks. At one time it had been the center of local life in Crescent Cove.

  She and her friends sometimes came over to play the games at the arcade or ride the carousel and reach for the golden ring. They’d eat fried dough and buy clam rolls from Deke’s father. Sometimes they’d come to watch the beach movies, scooping out the sand to make pillows for their heads.

  Nick pulled to a stop in the parking lot. Everything but Deke’s looked closed now. The arcade was boarded over. The smaller stores were dark. The Seaview Motel, the only motel in Crescent Cove, had closed years ago. But it still sat behind the parking lot, a one-storied, sky blue, concrete bunker, deserted and unused.

  They got out
of the truck, and Connor ran over to the rail fence that surrounded the parking lot. He pointed across the beach to the point of land that jutted into the Sound like a fallen stalactite.

  “What’s that?” he breathed.

  “It’s Crescent Point. On a moonless night, if you go to the very end, you can see the whole Milky Way.”

  He looked up at Margaux and screwed up his face.

  “Not the candy, goose. But stars that look like milk in the sky.”

  “I want to see it.” His whisper carried a little louder than before, but Margaux might have imagined it.

  She wanted him to see the Milky Way, but she wasn’t about to intrude into Nick’s territory.

  “I’m sure Uncle Nick will bring you when the moon is a sliver.” She raised her eyebrows, but Nick wasn’t paying attention, he was looking into the mid-distance halfway between her and Connor, oblivious. “Isn’t that right, Nick?” she said louder.

  He actually jumped. “What? Sure?”

  Connor pointed to Margaux. “You, too.”

  She definitely heard him then. Nick was looking at him, too. She shot him a warning look not to make too much of the tiny breakthrough and risk pushing him back into silence.

  “Okay,” she said tentatively. “We used to go out there when I was a kid.” It was the most popular necking place in the area. “See the big house with the turrets, the round things on the side? We thought it was haunted.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, but it turned out that these really nice people lived there. And they used to rent out cottages that looked just like they belonged in a fairy tale.” She turned to Nick. This time he was watching her. “Do the Vanderhoefs still live there?”

  Nick nodded.

  What was wrong with him? He’d just started easing up and now he was remote and unapproachable again.

  “You hungry?” Margaux asked.

  Connor nodded.

  The three of them walked across the street to Deke’s.

  “Mom said the town is going to restore the boardwalk and beach,” she said conversationally. “That would be good for the community.”

  “As long as they don’t go overboard.”

  Margaux smiled. “That’s exactly what Mom said.”