Page 6 of Hush (The Seaside Saga #25)

Yes, throws. This one sends, flings, heaves all that shit to the horizon—out over the water and fully out of his mind.

He has to clear his thoughts.

Today.

Because he owes Jason that much for tossing him the stairway life ring. Which is where Shane’s headed now—his last day on those Barlow stairs.

So he turns and treks to the boardwalk first to sit and just, finally, stop thinking. He pauses alone there. Sits in the briny scents, the fluid sounds, the touch of the breeze.

But his short-lived peace is interrupted by a sudden thunking.

When he turns and squints down the boardwalk, Shane sees it’s that punky Flynn.

He’s cruising over each and every boardwalk plank on his skateboard.

His jacket flies open; the wind’s in his face; his beat-up sneakers beneath his baggy jeans propel him even faster.

“No school this fine Wednesday morning, Flynn?” Shane asks when the teen clatters to a stop in front of him.

“Late opening.”

“What? Or are you cutting class?”

“Nooo.” Flynn’s foot flips up one side of the skateboard which he balances on the boardwalk while sitting beside Shane now. “There was a water main break in front of the high school. Look it up.”

“Nah. I believe you, kid.”

“The whole street’s flooded so I have a two-hour delay. ”

Shane nods as they both sit there facing the sea. “A lucky break you got today.”

“I guess.”

“Listen. Lucky breaks don’t come often in life, I can assure you that. So enjoy it.”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Shane just elbows a shove into Flynn, which gets the kid up and ready to roll again. He’s standing on the skateboard and pivoting his front foot forward already.

“Hey,” Shane warns him. “No skateboarding on the boardwalk.”

Flynn lowers a foot and gives a strong push to get rolling.

“If Nick sees you,” Shane yells over the thunking wheels, “you’ll get another fine!”

“Yeah?” Flynn calls back. Those skateboard wheels thunk rhythmically over every single wooden plank as he weaves down the boardwalk. “Up yours!”

Shane laughs at this carbon copy of himself at that age—fifteen and full of it—then gets up and leaves, too.

***

Cliff sits at his tanker desk and opens a document on his computer. It’s the agenda for the next BOG meeting. As he scans it, there’s a noise from outside. Car doors slamming, maybe. So he gets up and surprisingly sees Jason, Mitch and CT-TV’s cameraman, Zach. They’re all headed his way, too.

So Cliff turns and heads another way—straight to the open accordion door behind him.

The door which, when closed, effectively conceals his secret living quarters behind it.

Quickly, he pulls the door shut and takes his seat at his desk again just as the steel entry door opens and the fellows spill in.

“Gentlemen,” Cliff says, pushing back his padded chair and watching them. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Commissioner,” Jason answers while walking to his desk.

The other two give a wave and linger near that door.

But Jason? Dressed casual in a sweatshirt, tee and cargo pants, he sits himself on the metal chair beside Cliff’s desk.

“Need a favor, Cliff. For the show,” Jason begins, lifting a booted foot to his knee.

But he stops then. Stops when a snazzy full-color flyer on Cliff’s desk catches his eye.

Jason reaches a hand to it and turns it for a better look.

That’s when he actually picks it up. “What’s this for? A Christmas Cottage Tour?”

Cliff nods. “Yes it is, as a matter of fact.”

“Tour private coastal homes fully decorated for the holidays,” Jason reads. “Warm up between houses with hot beverages and Christmas pastries provided by the Ocean Star Inn.” He looks at Cliff now. “We’re really doing this?”

Cliff shrugs. “If the BOG approves.”

“But who’s going to open up their house to visitors touring them?” Jason asks.

“You’d be surprised,” Cliff remarks. “I guess we’ll ask for volunteers.”

“Now that sounds like something I might like to consider,” Mitch says from near the door. “Most of the reno will be done by then, no?”

“Should be,” Jason vaguely agrees, then squints at Cliff. “So let me guess. Elsa’s proposing this event?”

“Sure is. She dropped that flyer off with her pastries. You just missed her.” Cliff motions to the steel door.

“She flew in on her golf cart and promptly flew back out. Wants me to run that Christmas tour by the BOG,” Cliff goes on, flicking the flyer Jason’s holding.

“I was about to add it to the next meeting’s agenda. ”

Jason draws a hand down his whiskered jaw as he scrutinizes the details on the cottage tour flyer. “Wait,” he says then. “Back it up. Did you say Elsa brought pastries ?” He sets the flyer down and glances around.

“I thought I smelled something sweet,” Mitch ventures, moseying away from the entrance door and toward the coffee cart.

“Mitchell… If you insist on that banana beignet you’re reaching for,” Cliff warns now, “you must sit in the designated area.”

“The what ?” Mitch asks, standing there in a brown cardigan over a loose tan utility shirt and black trousers. There are also two beignets in his hovering hand.

Cliff gets up from his desk and promptly retrieves a vintage folding-tray table from the supply cabinet.

“Those beignet balls drop sugar and cinnamon granules everywhere ! Next thing? Mice will be running pell-mell all over the place licking up the sweets. So…” he goes on while snapping open the tray near the door, then sliding over another metal chair—this one from the reception area, “your designated spot.” Cliff nods to the seat. “The crumb corner.”

He doesn’t miss it, either, the way Jason raises an eyebrow at that one. But Jason also waves him off while lingering near the coffee cart. “Listen, Cliff. I need you to sign a release so Zach can film here in the trailer today. We’ll need footage of you, too. ”

“Here?” Cliff asks, sitting on his padded desk chair again.

Jason manages a nod while pouring a coffee. “We like to change up scene locations for the show.”

“Keeps the viewers engaged,” Zach adds, then sets down his camera gear and pops a fruit biscuit in his mouth.

Cliff turns up his hands. “But what do I have to do with Castaway Cottage ?”

“Well, as commissioner of this beach, you’ve got a master cottage-name list, right?” Jason asks.

“I do.” Cliff pulls open a squeaking desk drawer and thumbs through folders in it. “Somewhere in here.”

But Jason’s not really listening. Not too closely, anyway.

Instead, Cliff sees him heading into that supply closet and coming out with another tray table.

“Mitch and Carol have to decide on a name for their cottage. For the show, you know? Lauren’s even going to paint them a sign.

So maybe you can give us a copy of that list. Explain some interesting cottage names, too,” Jason suggests, all while setting his floral-printed tray with brass-toned metal legs beside Mitch’s tray.

After leaving his coffee on it, Jason retrieves a fruit biscuit and banana beignet and sits with the big guy, right there in that newly designated crumb corner.

***

It isn’t until after Zach has a coffee and pops a few banana beignets, and until, heck, until Cliff joins them and downs his own coffee and strawberry-fruit biscuit that they prep for filming.

Mitch and Jason are now seated in metal chairs right at Cliff’s desk.

For more light, Zach lifts Elsa’s curtain toppers off the sliding windows.

As he does, Mitch reaches over and plucks Cliff’s scuffed domino off his desk’s leather blotter.

“Now what the heck’s this for, Commissioner?” As he asks, Mitch turns the domino over in his hand.

“That’s his good-luck charm,” Jason explains.

Cliff says nothing. He only snaps his fingers and opens his hand to have it back.

“Seriously?” Mitch tosses the domino at Cliff.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Cliff wryly asks, propping the domino near his computer.

Before Mitch can do anything more than say “Ha!” Zach alerts them filming’s about to begin. Once he takes his camera position, Jason wastes no time going into his Castaway Cottage spiel.

“We’re sitting here, Mitch and I, in the official Stony Point Beach Association headquarters,” Jason tells the camera.

“All the beach rules and governings are housed right here in this trailer. Today? We’re going cottage-name-hunting.

And if anyone has the lowdown on those monikers, it’s Beach Commissioner Cliff Raines. ”

When the camera pans to Cliff, he browses that cottage-name list and drags a finger down the paper. “Let me give you a few sample names to start.”

“Lay it on us,” Mitch tells him.

“Okay. Okay, how about Breeze On By ,” Cliff says. “That one’s a blue bungalow with a copper weather vane monitoring, yes, the sea breezes . Get the connection?” After a few more names are analyzed, Jason and Mitch try to guess the cottages bearing the names Cliff mentions.

“Swan Feather,” Cliff rattles off.

“Got it,” Jason claims. “The cottage with the white-painted shingles and silver trim. ”

Cliff nods. “Here’s a good one. At Last .”

“Now I dig the sound of that one,” Mitch muses. “Wouldn’t mind it for my own place. Gives the sense of arriving at a beloved cottage after some time away. Stopping on the deck. Looking out at the Sound and breathing that sweet salt air. Ahh . At last.”

“That’s good, Mitch. But unfortunately, the name’s taken. Which is why we’re here,” Jason explains. “To get the noggin firing.”

Mitch nods. “Well, throw a few more cottage names at us, Clifton, would you?”

And Cliff does—all as Jason and Mitch guess which cottages the names belong to. Grey Mist and Sea-cret Spot and Egret’s Nest and Déjà View .

To which Mitch and Jason alternate:

The silver bungalow out on the rocky ledge.

The last little shanty on that dead-end street!

The gabled colonial on the marsh.

Oh, any stunner on Sea View Road.

And so it goes until the filming’s done and Zach’s packed up his gear.

Jason snags a few more napkin-wrapped beignets then.

Mitch shakes Cliff’s hand. “Thanks for this today, Commissioner. Appreciate your letting bygones be bygones and getting your input for the segment.”

Cliff, standing at his desk, nods and follows them out to the steel door. “Wait, Jason!” he calls after they all descend the trailer’s four steps. “I didn’t get your RSVP.”

Jason turns back. “Oh, we’ll be there tonight, Cliff. The minute your invitation arrived? Maris ran straight to the calendar and locked down the date. ”

“The date?” Mitch asks. “Some special occasion?”

“You could say that,” Jason answers.

Mitch looks to Cliff and turns up his hands in question.

“Line dance recital,” Cliff tells him.

“Oh, you have a… niece, maybe?” Mitch asks.

Jason hits Mitch in the arm. “No. He’s got a solo , man. That guy can two-step his way around any of us.”

“No kidding,” Mitch says both to Jason and Cliff. “Now that I’ve experienced firsthand.”

Cliff just salutes them, calls out, “See you tonight, Jason,” backs into the trailer and closes its steel door.