To the Beach and Back

Chapter 28: Epilogue

There is little traffic as I drive into downtown Ocean City on a chilly January day, surrounded by gray skies and heavy wind from the ocean whipping past closed buildings and hibernating stores.

Winter in resort towns are so different than during the summer.

There are no clusters of suntanned, bathing suit clad young people on busy crosswalks, waiting to cross the street and get to the Boardwalk. No surfers wearing skin-tight wet suits with damp, tangled hair make their way to their cars, their morning surf rides already finished for the day. No families with loaded-down beach carts hauling children back and forth between the beaches.

Porches are empty, decks of once bustling restaurants are vacant without chairs, tables, and customers laughing in the sunshine. Bus stops are dotted with only occasional travelers or employees heading off to the handful of business that remain open. Side streets that were once full of parked cars are now bare as I drive toward my new home-away-from-home at the Paradise Lost Condo Complex.

Although I don't know about the 'lost' part.

After parking, I grab my bags and open the heavy iron gate that encloses my new home away from home. Carla steps out of her condo while I walk down the sidewalk, a feisty short woman with auburn hair who works an early shift at a local bakery that stays open year-round. "You want some leftovers?" she calls down to me across the distance of the boarded-up pool.

"Always!" I holler back, my mouth watering simply from the memory of the amazing Smith Island cake she left at my door the last time, an Eastern Shore specialty of yellow cake with layers of custard.

Ben, our reclusive but kind superintendent, nods from where he's fussing with a side window in Celeste's condo that always sticks. "Here long?"

"Just for the weekend."

"Nice, you be sure to bring that Holda lady around, m'kay?"

Poor Ben.

He's been enamored with Holda from the day they first met in late July, once my condo finally settled and half paid off, thanks to the proceeds from Haven. But Holda is still seeing her gentleman friend ... that vet who took my dear Sadie to peace and who bought his own medal detector to search for treasures with her. Ben still holds out hope, though, so I give him a nod and smile before walking up the three flights of stairs to Paradise Found, the nickname I've given my condo.

I open the door and smile.

Unlike Haven, this renovation didn't happen in a mere two weeks. This one was carefully planned and meticulously thought out, with the kitchen wall removed to open out the space and bring lots of light to the kitchen with its new white pine cabinets and gray quartz counter tops. The floors are of engineered hardwood in the shade of beech driftwood and the walls are a calming shade of light mint green.

I set my purse and overnight bag onto the plush sofa and smile at the array of printed photos hanging on the wall. The one of Allyse and I holding hands as we step into the ocean makes me wonder how she's enjoying her cruise to the Bahamas with her new boyfriend, Alex.

But come on. It's Allyse.

Of course she is! And I can't wait to hear all the juicy details when she visits next month.

The photo of Wesley eating pizza with me on the weekend he helped me unpack brings tears to my eyes. That's the same night I met his own new boyfriend, Mark, but I'm not allowed to hang the photo I took of them together at Fish Tales. Not yet, at least, seeing as how Wesley doesn't want to jinx their relationship.

I haven't spoken to Nick in a couple months, not since his father's funeral, but Wesley says he's doing well, dating a thirty-five-year-old yoga instructor that Allyse and I stalk on Facebook, just for old time's sake.

What can we say?

We're so not perfect.

I make my way to the back balcony, where the door is opened an inch and a chilly breeze seep in from the bay. I slide it open to Ryan's warm smile, where he's sitting on a high-back PVC captain's chair.

"Hey, about time you got here!

I kiss him hello and then settle on the chair beside him ... what we've designated as my chair, since it offers the best view of the bay. I snuggle closer toward him as he shares his blanket, spreading it across my lap. "I got tied up chatting with Sonja. Thank goodness traffic is so much lighter in January?"

"How'd she take the news?" He asks, dark eyes filled with concern.

I shrug. "She's sad about me selling my house, but she's happy for me! And she plans of visiting often if my couch is free," I finish with a laugh.

"Thank goodness you got a pull-out sofa bed."

It will be nice having visitors and I told Sonja she's free to visit any time she likes. Selling my house ... the home I raised my child in, the home that had been the nucleus of everything ... is still scary and she did ask if I was certain I was doing the right thing. But I don't have the answer.

And I'm okay with that.

"Dave called, by the way," Ryan says. "He wants to know if we want to meet for dinner at Mother's Cantina."

I smile.

Meeting Dave for dinner means he and Ryan will be talking business the entire time, now that Ryan has decided to slowly move his construction base to Ocean City over the next year as part of our mutual plan to become full-time locals.

Me. A full time beach person.

Who would have guessed?

"Mexican food with Dave sounds great ... but please, no fighting over who pays the bill, okay?" I ask with a laugh, knowing that's next to impossible because Dave will always win that fight even if it means slipping the waitress a hundred before the first drink is even served.

Dave was right about one thing, though.

The beach is just as amazing in the off-season. Some people see the closed buildings, empty parking lots, and boarded up restaurants as a gloomy reminder of winter.

But it's not.

The city isn't dead ... it's merely in hibernation, recovering from the past busy summer and preparing for the next sun-filled season. And if you look closely, there's beauty in this peaceful state. Silent walks on a near-empty boardwalk brings a sense of intimacy that's hard to see when surrounded by tourists, bikes, and noise. And there's a feeling of true belonging when you walk into a year-round restaurant to find it packed with locals and other tourists who adore the off-season just as much as you.

I snuggle deeper in my chair and hike my feet up onto the balcony railing, staring out across a row of houses to the bay with its white-capped waves and hazy gray horizon. It's getting late. I should change out of my sweats and put on some makeup and a nice outfit for dinner but instead, I'm going to stay right here, enjoying the view for as long as possible.

Because I'm fine, just as I am.