"Whoa, okay then!" The pretty young mother touched her index finger to the tip of her daughter's nose. "Let's go see Thelma!"
Arabella smiled but then felt a hot wave of longing that was hard to shake. After a moment, she licked a crumb from her bottom lip and decided it was time to gather her courage and make the drive to Grady's house. Oliver had assured her that they would be there rehearsing during the day and that she should head over as soon as she arrived. But once inside the cool cocoon of the car, she thought that perhaps she'd unload her things at the beach house and freshen up first. She chided herself for wanting to look her best. "I'm here to do a job," she said firmly. "Nothing more, nothing less." She scrolled back through the text messages from Oliver and found the address of the beach house. After alerting Siri of the change, she started the car and pulled out onto Main Street.
Fifteen minutes later, Arabella drew into what turned out to be a long driveway leading to a secluded beach house full of old Florida charm. "Wow, even prettier than the pictures." Arabella killed the engine and fished in her big purse for the key that Oliver had mailed to her. She stepped out of the car and walked toward the front steps, which led to a wraparound veranda. Sunshine glinted off a gray tin roof, and the stark white paint of the house's exterior offset the abundance of green ferns and red geraniums swinging from hanging pots. Deep-red wicker rocking chairs and matching end tables looked cheerful and welcoming.
Arabella unlocked the door and stepped inside. "Oh, I could get used to this." Coastal décor in crisp blue and white gave the interior a cozy feeling, but the cathedral ceilings and open floor plan made the living room feel light and airy. A hint of vanilla hung in the air, probably from the abundance of fat candles gracing the wide coffee table.
Arabella walked across gleaming hardwood floors and peeked into an adorable kitchen. Pale blue walls complemented the white cabinets and a big center island that looked like it was made for gathering around. Fingers of sunshine reached through the bay window to the breakfast nook tucked into the far corner of the room.
Like a kid on Christmas morning, Arabella opened the doors of each room as excitedly as though she were opening a wrapped present, and was delighted with each discovery. "Oh gosh." The master bedroom made Arabella sigh. A big wicker paddle fan moved in lazy circles above a distressed white four-poster bed piled with crisp linen pillows edged with blue and red. She sure hoped the comforter felt as soft and as luxurious as it appeared.
"Sweet," she squeaked when she entered the big bathroom and spotted the old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub. She could imagine a hot soak in mounds of bubbles after a long day of dancing. The large shower looked just as inviting, with marble tile and a seat on which she could sit to shave her legs. She'd always adored beach cottages and almost felt as if this house had been built just for her.
Arabella needed to lug her things inside and freshen up, but she paused to open the French doors that led to a back deck that ran from the bedroom all the way to the living room. She stepped outside, inhaling the briny tang of the sea. The deep-red wicker furniture matched the rocking chairs on the front veranda, and the pillowed lounge chair would be perfect for sipping a cold drink while reading a book. Arabella loved novels, and it was about time that she made time to read.
"What a view," she whispered. Mounds of sugar-white sand dunes were topped with lumps of green vegetation and sea oats swaying in the afternoon breeze. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore soothed her soul, and she felt her anxiety start to melt away. A long, weathered boardwalk leading to the beach beckoned her, and she vowed to herself to take a walk every day.
She gripped the warm wooden railing for a few moments and then turned around, anxious to see the rest of the house.
With renewed determination, Arabella walked around the side of the deck to her car. She opened the trunk and lugged the bulging suitcases into the house. Her little caffeine-and-sugar buzz had her getting unpacked in no time. After a long, hot shower, she blew her long hair dry and added some beachy waves. She took special care with her makeup but used a light touch, not wanting to appear too overdone or like she was trying too hard. After much deliberation, she picked out a pair of cuffed white shorts and a yellow linen blouse that looked good with her cinnamon-colored hair and hazel eyes.
Arabella felt a tinge of nerves returning, but then she lifted her chin and gave her reflection a challenging look. After dabbing on her favorite perfume, she added gloss to her lips and surveyed herself in the bathroom mirror. It had been over thirteen years since Grady had last laid eyes on her. Dancing in the studio kept her in shape, and she used the latest lotions and creams, avoided sun exposure, and ate healthily. Okay, she ate healthily sometimes. She didn't care too much for fast food . . . but comfort food? Yes, please.