Yet as she dropped her tote on the bed and selected an outfit to wear to the hotel, thoughts of Aunt El’s secrets gave way to the solitary man on the beach. A tanned, fit swimmer with an artificial leg and no wedding ring who wouldn’t have given her a second look if Bandit hadn’t intervened.
We all have our secrets, good and bad.
What secrets did he have? Were they mostly good...or bad?
She pulled the puckered seersucker sundress from its hanger, running her fingers over the alternating rows of textured stripes. Smooth, bumpy, smooth, bumpy. Kind of like life—smooth patches followed by lots of bumps and wrinkles.
Based on his artificial leg, the guy at the beach had had his share of rough patches. Maybe more than his share. What had happened to him? Why was he alone? What had brought him to Jekyll Island?
Shaking her head, Rachel tossed the dress on the bed and detoured to the bathroom to touch up her French braid. She needed to switch gears and psyche herself up for her meeting with the new activities director at the Jekyll Island Club Hotel. She hadn’t come here to think about strangers on a beach or dates or whether her busy...full...schedule at home was healthy.
She’d come here to relax.
And neither her aunt’s prodding nor an unsettling encounter on the beach were going to interfere with that plan.
Chapter Two
“Did you have any problem finding the beach access?”
As Louise Fletcher stepped from the house to the patio, a plate of cookies in hand, Fletch tried not to stare. Last time he’d come for a visit, his grandmother had been her usual self—short hair neatly coiffed in the tight curls she’d always favored, sensible flat shoes, modest-length dark skirt and crisp blouse.
Now she looked like an aging hippie. What was with the spiky blow-dried hair and the bare feet and the floor-length muumuu thing?
“Young man, you’ve been inspecting me like I’m an alien ever since you arrived yesterday.” She set the plate of cookies on the table beside him and eased into the adjacent chair, cradling the cast on her left wrist. “What’s the problem?”
That direct approach was new, too. Gram used to be much more soft-spoken and discreet.
Clearing his throat, he helped himself to a cookie. “You just look a lot different than when I came for Thanksgiving.”
“I should hope so. It took me a while, but I finally got with the program.”
“What program?” He took a bite of the cookie, letting the warm chocolate chips dissolve on his tongue. At least one thing hadn’t changed. His grandmother’s baking skills were still top-notch—though how she’d managed to make these one-handed, he had no idea.
“This is island living, my boy. We’re casual here. Throw out the girdle. Throw out the pantyhose. Throw out the curlers. I might be seventy-seven, but I’m not too old to learn a few new tricks.”
Aiming a dubious look her direction, Fletch shoved another cookie in his mouth.
“What?”
“You’re...different. That’s all.”
“I prefer the word better.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“I am—and that’s all that counts.”
Truth be told, her new feistiness was kind of a hoot. She and Gramp had enjoyed a long and happy marriage, but she’d really come into her own in widowhood and done things he’d never expected. Like taking that around-the-world cruise on a freighter a year ago, then moving here last fall without consulting anyone.
Not that he was certain he approved of this latest adventure. She was almost eighty, after all, and the closest hospital was miles away, on the mainland.
But Gram didn’t need his approval. She liked the changes in her life, and she was right—that was all that counted.
Even if this latest one had produced a broken wrist.
As if reading his mind, Gram leaned forward and fixed him with an intent look. “Now see here, young man.” The slight Southern twang of her Nashville roots was another thing that hadn’t changed. “I could have tripped over a shopping cart in any parking lot in any grocery store in this country. It just happened to be in Brunswick. And Eleanor Kavanagh, bless her soul, took fine care of me until you got here.”
She settled back, her expression thoughtful. “Funny how you can go through your whole life and then, in the last stages, find the best friend you ever had.” She shook her head. “All part of God’s plan, I guess.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing her again. We didn’t have much chance to get acquainted at Thanksgiving.”
“You can say hello at church on Sunday. You’re going to services, aren’t you?”
Fletch shifted and gave the task of selecting his next cookie more attention than it deserved. “No, but I’ll be happy to drop you off.”
“Still at odds with the Almighty, I see.”
He settled on a cookie he no longer wanted. “Let it go, Gram.”
Several beats of silence ticked by.
“We don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to—but I intend to keep praying. And I can get a ride with Eleanor to church. So...you never answered my question. Did you have any problem finding the beach access?”
He leaned back in his chair. Good. She’d let the subject of his lapsed faith drop—for now. “No. Your directions were excellent. I would never have guessed there were access points tucked into the residential streets.”
“Most people wouldn’t. That’s why those beaches are usually empty. Did you have it all to yourself?”
“Almost.” Fletch chewed the cookie, visualizing the blonde. “I only had to share it with a woman and her dog.”
“That sounds about right. I walked that beach every day before I broke this,” she wiggled the fingers protruding from the cast, “and I never saw more than a couple of people. They were always friendly, though. Seems like beaches bring out the best in people. Did you have an opportunity to chat with her?”
Their brief exchange didn’t qualify as a chat, and as for friendly...not even close.
“I went there to swim, not talk.” He washed down the last of the cookie with a swig of soda.
Twin furrows creased her brow. “I hope you’re not turning into a recluse.”
One side of his mouth hiked up. “Trust me, Gram. The accident might have sidelined me for a few months, but in the past year I’ve led an active social life.”
The furrows diminished a bit. “So in other words, you’re just waiting for the right woman to come along.”
It
