Castle in the Sand
Megan Hart
Smashwords Edition.
Copyright 2010 Megan Hart
Smashwords Edition, License
Notes
This ebook is licensed for your
personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given
away to other people. If you would like to share this book with
another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person.
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.
***THIS WORK WAS PREVIOUSLY
PUBLISHED AS SAND CASTLE ***
Castle in the Sand
By Megan Hart
Some things change.
And some things don't.
The key in Claire Munroe's fingers slipped
into the lock without effort, but though she had no trouble turning
it, the door wouldn't open. She put her shoulder against the
weathered, once-white painted wood and pushed. It still wouldn't
budge.
"C'mon, you bugger."
Claire Munroe had been coming to Nonesuch for
a long time. She'd done her share of cleaning and repairing. She'd
given this unassuming beach house her share of sweat and toil, and
yes, even her share of blood. She had the scars to prove it--there
on the palm of her hand, where the splintered wood of the deck had
once gouged her deep enough to leave a mark.
Dale and Kevin, two of the eight who'd dubbed
themselves "the Fellowship" during their college years, had found
the door at a junkyard and brought it to Nonesuch because of its
beautiful and amazingly still-intact stained glass window. Claire
had never had difficulty with it before, but like everything else
about the house, the door was worn and sometimes cranky.
She shaded her eyes and peered through the
squares of blue and red to the cozy, familiar kitchen inside. Had
someone arrived before her and padlocked the door? She looked over
the splintered balcony again. No car, and besides, it was her turn
this year to open up the house.
Clouds blew across the sun, which should have
been bright with the promise of summer, but instead was a pale,
lifeless disc against a gray and unhappy looking sky.
Some weather for June, she thought with a
shudder that wracked her from her head to her toes. It was cold and
looked like rain. They'd be lucky if they got any time at the beach
at all.
She removed the key, rubbed it on the sleeve
of her cardigan, then slipped it back into the lock. "C'mon."
The door opened with a creak and groan that
made Claire smile and shake her head. "Sand in your joints? I know
how you feel."
Once inside, she hung her keys on the hook
below her name and the laminated photo of her from ten years
before. In all this time, they'd never changed the pictures. Claire
paused in front of the purple-painted piece of molding one of them
had hung so many years ago. Eight hooks. Eight photos. One for
each of us.
She touched them all in turn. "The
Fellowship."
The name had begun as a joke in the dorm in
which they'd all lived, but it had lasted through four years of
college and ten years of friendship since. They'd been together
through final exams, frat parties, panty raids, job interviews,
marriages and births. Dale, Tracey, Kevin, Lisa, Joe, Alisha,
Claire...and finally, the last face...Malcolm.
The smile left her lips and Claire turned
away from that last picture. She didn't want to think about
Malcolm. If he even bothered to show up this year, she'd do what
she always did. Let her eyes slide past him. Pass him the salt at
the dinner table and make certain their fingers never touched.
She'd had years of experience ignoring Malcolm McGregor. She'd get
by. She always did.
The thought sent another chill skittering
down her spine, and she rubbed her hands briskly along her arms. It
was too cold for June. Claire rubbed her hands together to warm
them, too. She realized she was gritting her teeth at the memory of
his face,
Megan Hart
Smashwords Edition.
Copyright 2010 Megan Hart
Smashwords Edition, License
Notes
This ebook is licensed for your
personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given
away to other people. If you would like to share this book with
another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person.
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.
***THIS WORK WAS PREVIOUSLY
PUBLISHED AS SAND CASTLE ***
Castle in the Sand
By Megan Hart
Some things change.
And some things don't.
The key in Claire Munroe's fingers slipped
into the lock without effort, but though she had no trouble turning
it, the door wouldn't open. She put her shoulder against the
weathered, once-white painted wood and pushed. It still wouldn't
budge.
"C'mon, you bugger."
Claire Munroe had been coming to Nonesuch for
a long time. She'd done her share of cleaning and repairing. She'd
given this unassuming beach house her share of sweat and toil, and
yes, even her share of blood. She had the scars to prove it--there
on the palm of her hand, where the splintered wood of the deck had
once gouged her deep enough to leave a mark.
Dale and Kevin, two of the eight who'd dubbed
themselves "the Fellowship" during their college years, had found
the door at a junkyard and brought it to Nonesuch because of its
beautiful and amazingly still-intact stained glass window. Claire
had never had difficulty with it before, but like everything else
about the house, the door was worn and sometimes cranky.
She shaded her eyes and peered through the
squares of blue and red to the cozy, familiar kitchen inside. Had
someone arrived before her and padlocked the door? She looked over
the splintered balcony again. No car, and besides, it was her turn
this year to open up the house.
Clouds blew across the sun, which should have
been bright with the promise of summer, but instead was a pale,
lifeless disc against a gray and unhappy looking sky.
Some weather for June, she thought with a
shudder that wracked her from her head to her toes. It was cold and
looked like rain. They'd be lucky if they got any time at the beach
at all.
She removed the key, rubbed it on the sleeve
of her cardigan, then slipped it back into the lock. "C'mon."
The door opened with a creak and groan that
made Claire smile and shake her head. "Sand in your joints? I know
how you feel."
Once inside, she hung her keys on the hook
below her name and the laminated photo of her from ten years
before. In all this time, they'd never changed the pictures. Claire
paused in front of the purple-painted piece of molding one of them
had hung so many years ago. Eight hooks. Eight photos. One for
each of us.
She touched them all in turn. "The
Fellowship."
The name had begun as a joke in the dorm in
which they'd all lived, but it had lasted through four years of
college and ten years of friendship since. They'd been together
through final exams, frat parties, panty raids, job interviews,
marriages and births. Dale, Tracey, Kevin, Lisa, Joe, Alisha,
Claire...and finally, the last face...Malcolm.
The smile left her lips and Claire turned
away from that last picture. She didn't want to think about
Malcolm. If he even bothered to show up this year, she'd do what
she always did. Let her eyes slide past him. Pass him the salt at
the dinner table and make certain their fingers never touched.
She'd had years of experience ignoring Malcolm McGregor. She'd get
by. She always did.
The thought sent another chill skittering
down her spine, and she rubbed her hands briskly along her arms. It
was too cold for June. Claire rubbed her hands together to warm
them, too. She realized she was gritting her teeth at the memory of
his face,
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