Read Online Castle in the Sand by Megan Hart - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Megan Hart
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and she forced herself to relax. Stop thinking about him.
He's not worth this.
She looked around the kitchen where she'd
spent most of her vacations for the past ten years. Nonesuch wasn't
one of the big fancy beach houses tourists shelled out exorbitant
amounts of money to rent during the summer. If it had been, not
even the Fellowship teaming up together financially could have
afforded to buy it.
The house had been, and always would be,
slightly ramshackle, no matter how much time and money they put
into it. It was two stories, set on stilts, with multiple decks and
balconies, a screened porch and a modest, cozy kitchen. They'd
turned the top floor, originally only an attic space, into a
sleeping area. They'd also redone the dining room and an old
laundry room as well to give Nonesuch five bedrooms.
The single, narrow bathroom boasted a leaky
shower and a toilet with a pull-chain. There was rarely enough hot
water for everyone to shower with, and the only air conditioning
came from the open windows, while an ancient, cranky gas stove
provided a modicum of warmth in the rare winter months they
visited.
Claire loved it. Not to live in all the time,
of course, since she did like her creature comforts. But for the
week every year they all came together, and for occasional
weekends, Nonesuch was perfect.
Sleeping space was awarded on a first-come,
first-serve basis, and there was never a question about which room
Claire chose. She climbed the steep, narrow stairs, which opened
directly into the attic space. The sloping roof made walking a
hazard, unless you kept to the middle of the room. A double bed and
matching dresser took up most of the space, while a smaller single
bed had been tucked away beneath the eaves. A rag rug Claire had
found in town gave a splash of color to the bare wooden floor.
There was nothing extravagant about this
room, just as there was nothing luxurious about the rest of the
house, but it was Claire's favorite for one reason. The view. Two
windows, one on each end, let in bright light and gave a view of
the sea from one and the small stand of evergreen trees on the
other.
Hoping to catch a glimpse of the ocean, she
went to the bed and knelt on it to peer out the window. Claire
frowned, then ran her finger along the glass. It came away black
with dust. She wrinkled her nose. No wonder the room had seemed so
dim. She looked down at the bed's comforter. She remembered it as
being a wildly colored patchwork quilt of vivid reds and blues. Now
the red looked more like pink, and the blue had faded so much it
was nearly white. She blinked, then looked again. Had someone
changed the cover? The pattern looked the same, but the
colors...the colors just didn't seem right.
Claire got up and looked down at the rug. She
had bought it in a local artisan's shop four years ago, loving the
splashes of color and texture, but not quite willing to have such a
crazy piece in her apartment. It had been perfect for the attic
room. Now, the colors she recalled as being so vibrant and clashing
looked muted. Pale. She bent and touched the twists of rag. It was
the same rug...wasn't it?
Disturbed, she got to her feet and looked
around. The sea air destroyed everything, slowly but inexorably.
Things faded. The constant grit of sand underfoot had worn the
linoleum in the kitchen downstairs to the wood beneath. Maybe it
had worn the rug, too.
With a shrug, she put the rug and the
coverlet out of her mind. She'd clean the windows and put fresh
linens on the bed. Maybe she'd buy a new rug again this year.
Feeling better, Claire went back downstairs
to the kitchen. A dark shape stood silhouetted in the doorway and
she let out a cry. Her heart flew into her throat and she stumbled
back.
The man stepped toward her. Instant
recognition swept over her, and embarrassment flooded her. "You
scared the life out of me!"
"Hello, Claire. I wasn't certain you'd be
here."
He
He's not worth this.
She looked around the kitchen where she'd
spent most of her vacations for the past ten years. Nonesuch wasn't
one of the big fancy beach houses tourists shelled out exorbitant
amounts of money to rent during the summer. If it had been, not
even the Fellowship teaming up together financially could have
afforded to buy it.
The house had been, and always would be,
slightly ramshackle, no matter how much time and money they put
into it. It was two stories, set on stilts, with multiple decks and
balconies, a screened porch and a modest, cozy kitchen. They'd
turned the top floor, originally only an attic space, into a
sleeping area. They'd also redone the dining room and an old
laundry room as well to give Nonesuch five bedrooms.
The single, narrow bathroom boasted a leaky
shower and a toilet with a pull-chain. There was rarely enough hot
water for everyone to shower with, and the only air conditioning
came from the open windows, while an ancient, cranky gas stove
provided a modicum of warmth in the rare winter months they
visited.
Claire loved it. Not to live in all the time,
of course, since she did like her creature comforts. But for the
week every year they all came together, and for occasional
weekends, Nonesuch was perfect.
Sleeping space was awarded on a first-come,
first-serve basis, and there was never a question about which room
Claire chose. She climbed the steep, narrow stairs, which opened
directly into the attic space. The sloping roof made walking a
hazard, unless you kept to the middle of the room. A double bed and
matching dresser took up most of the space, while a smaller single
bed had been tucked away beneath the eaves. A rag rug Claire had
found in town gave a splash of color to the bare wooden floor.
There was nothing extravagant about this
room, just as there was nothing luxurious about the rest of the
house, but it was Claire's favorite for one reason. The view. Two
windows, one on each end, let in bright light and gave a view of
the sea from one and the small stand of evergreen trees on the
other.
Hoping to catch a glimpse of the ocean, she
went to the bed and knelt on it to peer out the window. Claire
frowned, then ran her finger along the glass. It came away black
with dust. She wrinkled her nose. No wonder the room had seemed so
dim. She looked down at the bed's comforter. She remembered it as
being a wildly colored patchwork quilt of vivid reds and blues. Now
the red looked more like pink, and the blue had faded so much it
was nearly white. She blinked, then looked again. Had someone
changed the cover? The pattern looked the same, but the
colors...the colors just didn't seem right.
Claire got up and looked down at the rug. She
had bought it in a local artisan's shop four years ago, loving the
splashes of color and texture, but not quite willing to have such a
crazy piece in her apartment. It had been perfect for the attic
room. Now, the colors she recalled as being so vibrant and clashing
looked muted. Pale. She bent and touched the twists of rag. It was
the same rug...wasn't it?
Disturbed, she got to her feet and looked
around. The sea air destroyed everything, slowly but inexorably.
Things faded. The constant grit of sand underfoot had worn the
linoleum in the kitchen downstairs to the wood beneath. Maybe it
had worn the rug, too.
With a shrug, she put the rug and the
coverlet out of her mind. She'd clean the windows and put fresh
linens on the bed. Maybe she'd buy a new rug again this year.
Feeling better, Claire went back downstairs
to the kitchen. A dark shape stood silhouetted in the doorway and
she let out a cry. Her heart flew into her throat and she stumbled
back.
The man stepped toward her. Instant
recognition swept over her, and embarrassment flooded her. "You
scared the life out of me!"
"Hello, Claire. I wasn't certain you'd be
here."
He
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