Beach Blanket Santa

stage from Jennifer.
    Louis surprised her with his approach and jovially patted her arm. “Nice catch,” he said under his breath. Across the room, Jennifer narrowed her gaze and walked away. Sarah couldn’t have felt any more awkward.
    Then Elaine drew near with a stealthy thumbs-up. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”
    Sarah lifted white roses to her nose, inhaling their sweet scent. “Why did you make me do that?” she asked in a whisper, disguised by the fanning bouquet.
    “Because, hon. I want you to be as happy as I am. And, after a while” —s he nudged the bouquet still clasped in Sarah’s hands — “the right guy will come along. You’ll see.”
    “Sure,” Sarah said, not believing it. She was thirty-one-years old and hadn’t met anyone with marriage potential yet. Not that it bothered her most days. She kept plenty busy with her work as an interior designer and truly loved what she did. It was hard to look for a mate in her field, which wasn’t populated with many eligible men. And because Sarah wasn’t into the bar or singles scene, she wasn’t expressly searching anyhow. Who knew if the right guy for her was even out there? Even if he was, history had taught her that he’d be awfully hard to find.
    “There’s someone for everyone,” Elaine said, smiling sweetly. “And somewhere out there is the perfect guy for you. You’ve just got to walk through the right door.”

Chapter Two

    Sarah let herself into Elaine’s beach house and called out loudly, “Hello? Hello? Is somebody in here?” There was nothing but silence in return. Not that this surprised her. Renters at the cottage next door perpetually parked in Elaine and Robert’s drive. She had to admit the landscape was confusing. You had to nearly be a native here to discern the obscure gravel road overgrown with sea ferns that included the neighboring cottage’s drive. No matter. She’d stop by later and politely ask the renters to move their car. At the moment, neither was blocking the other in, so there was no real emergency.
    Sarah set her suitcases in the kitchen and looked around the bright open space. Sporadic sunlight poured through the sliding glass doors adjoining a broad inviting deck beyond the living area. One side of the room held a rugged pine dining table with a matching bench and chairs. The other had a cozy stone fireplace surrounded by a large, comfy sofa, teak coffee table, and two reading chairs. A fire had been laid in the hearth with extra wood and kindling sticks stacked in a holder nearby. Although, it was hard to imagine building a fire on a day like today. The weather was unseasonably warm, in the sixties with partly cloudy skies and a mixture of light and dark clouds dotting the horizon. She’d heard a hard rain was coming and even that the weather might get dicey for a couple of days. But she’d brought enough supplies to last her, and for now, the beach appeared inviting enough. Sarah smiled as the ocean beyond the plate-glass windows heaved and sighed, white-tipped waves crashing onto an empty stretch of sand. As soon as she brought in her groceries, she’d kick off her shoes and go for a walk.

    Down below the house and tucked in a corner behind the storage room, Matt finished his outdoor shower. Since the weather was predicated to change later with a cold front moving in, he’d decided to take advantage of bathing outside while he could. It might prove a tad chilly for some folks, who weren’t as toughened to the elements as he was. But Matt, who’d engaged in rugged camping trips since he was a teen near Chicago, was well accustomed to some bite in the air. Compared to the Midwest in December, being in southern North Carolina felt almost like summertime.
    There was something very freeing about being au natural outdoors, just a rustic wooden barrier between him and the path over the dunes. He’d had quite a catch today. Ten bluefish and nearly a dozen mackerel. Matt scrubbed his hands with extra care using the fisherman’s soap he’d brought along to expunge any scent from the cleaning he’d done while still on the beach. He found it easier to take care of the messy work as soon as the need arose and had a simple fisherman’s knife that had served him well for years. Matt planned to eat some of his haul while he was here, but most of it he planned to freeze and take back home. There were lots of recipes he could concoct, including a mighty delicious homemade gumbo.
    Matt shut