Page 1 of Beautiful Crazy
One
Everett
“Can I get a swirl cone, please?” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my wallet and hand the young lady a five. “Keep the change.”
She offers me a small smile and a nod as she takes the cash, placing it in the register before she gets to work on my ice cream.
The sun’s beginning to set over the horizon, painting the sky in a soft mix of pinks and oranges, and the air is thick and warm, the descending sun doing nothing to cool it off. Sweat lines my brow and the back of my neck, the t-shirt I’m wearing pasted to my back. It doesn’t feel the greatest, but I can’t help but want to be here anyway. There is nothing quite like a sunset over the ocean… even if it’s a little too warm for comfort. Hence the ice cream cone.
I wonder how long it’ll take for me to become acclimated to this humidity. Probably never. How can anybodyget used to this? We’re nearing the end of July, and it’s still hot as hell at almost seven o’clock in the evening.
The woman behind the stand hands me the cone topped with chocolate and vanilla swirly goodness. “Have a great evening,” she offers.
“Thank you. You as well.”
Cone in hand, I start toward the pier I’ve been eyeing since I parked my car. It’s nearly empty and the perfect place to watch the rest of the sunset. I eat the ice cream and the cone quickly, not wanting it to melt and make a mess all over my hand.
The last month of my life has been the biggest whirlwind I think I’ve ever experienced, with the last few days in particular being one giant culture shock. I don’t know what I expected when I packed up my Seattle condo and bought a one-way ticket to South Carolina, but so far, it’s been absolutely nothing like I thought it would be, and not necessarily in a bad way. Just… different. This past year has been hard. One hit after another. People who were supposed to be in my corner weren’t, and those I was supposed to trust proved themselves to be anything but trustworthy. Leaving Seattle was exactly what I needed, even if the reason behind the move wasn’t the best.
Almost thirty days ago, I woke up to the sad news that my grandma Rosie had passed away. I wouldn’t say I was close with her, but hearing about her death certainly shook me. Grandma Rosie was my father’s mom, and she was someone who lived a very different lifestyle than the rest of us. When I was little, after my grandpa died, she moved away from the bustling day-to-day of Seattle living to live on the coast of South Carolina. According to what little Iknow from my dad and what she’s told me over the years, it was something she’s wanted to do since she was young, live out here right on the beach, but never got the opportunity. My grandpa was a businessman. He worked hard for his money, and he wanted the world to know it. He was a fan of flashy cars, large houses, expensive clothes, and lavish vacations. They lived well together, and I know she was happy, but when he died, she didn’t want to do it anymore. I can’t say I blame her.
Growing up the way I did, surrounded by important people and money, it’s easy to drown in it all. You never have to want for a thing. The world is your oyster, and while I truly appreciate and am eternally grateful for the life my parents have given me, I’ve always yearned for more. Not more money or more property or more connections, because my family had all of those in spades, but more fulfillment. I want to experience the small joys of the world. The ones money can’t buy. The ones you can only get by living. By taking risks. By slowing down and letting things justbe.
While nobody else in my family seemed to get it, I could always understand my grandma’s decision to leave it all behind and start over. I could understand her desire to do something radical—our family’s words, not mine—like move to the middle of nowhere and ditch the penthouse, the designer clothes, and the driver. Money complicates things and brings out the worst in people. The saying “money is the root of all evil” has more than a little truth to it. I’ve admired her over the years for it, but I never told her as much.
So, imagine my surprise when I get a call from herlawyer after her passing, and find out that she left everything she had to me. It wasn’t much as far as material things go; her house, car, and what little money she had saved up working the last twenty years at a local inn in town calledSerendipity, but she must’ve known how much I looked up to her, after all. Must’ve known how much I needed something different. Something new. And it couldn’t have come at a more perfect time… although that feels shitty to admit.
When I first found out about all of this, I didn’t know what I was going to do. Do I sell the house and go on with my life? Or do I give up everything in Seattle—the only life I’ve ever known—and move to the beach on the other side of the country? Both seemed like viable options in their own way, but at the end of the day, only one of those options called to me. Only one of the choices made me feel something I haven’t felt in too many years… Hope. So, the very next morning, I contacted the school district I worked for and told them I wouldn’t be back in the fall, then I packed up my condo and as soon as I saw that South Carolina would accept my Washington credentials, left without any more of a plan than that, except to do something different. Somethingradical.
Am I terrified that I am making a decision that I could end up regretting? Kind of.
But I can’t deny the thrill of it. The possibilities. The spark of life that’s been breathed into me at everything to come.
Everything happened so fast. Within a week of making up my mind, my condo was listed for sale and I was packing up my entire life. And now, here I am—Blossom Beach,South Carolina, a small coastal town full of tranquility, rich history, and charm. At least, that’s what the internet told me when I looked it up. I landed at the closest airport, which is forty-five minutes outside of town, three days ago, and hit the ground running right away.
Despite my grandma leaving me her house, I don’t meet with the lawyer until next week to get the keys and finalize everything. Surprisingly enough, I’m staying at the inn she worked at because the town is so small there aren’t many options by way of lodging.
It feels like I haven’t been able to stop and catch my breath since my feet touched on the tarmac. My to-do list is a mile long, and while I’ve barely made a dent in it, I took the evening off tonight to go to the beach. To celebrate, because as of a few hours ago, I was just offered a job at the local elementary school, teaching the same grade I was teaching in Seattle—fifth grade. The school year starts in a couple of weeks, but there was a class that was in need of a teacher at the last minute. It felt like fate, like a sign that I had made the right decision.
The scent of salt in the air, the waves crashing against the shore, the serenity that seems to always exist in a place like this… it’s relaxing, and it allows me to forget how stressed out and in over my head I am.
At the end of the pier, there’s a wooden bench I sit on that looks out into the ocean. Living in Seattle my entire life, I didn’t make it out to the coast all that much. Being a state located on the coast, you’d think it would be easier for me, but the reality is, I was almost three hours from the beach. Any time I did make the trip, though, it was revitalizing.I always told myself one day I’d buy a house on the coast. I’d never gotten around to that with life getting in the way. Just another reason why I can’t help but think that all this that led me to this town was fate.
My own version of serendipity, if you will.
“This seat taken?”
At the sound of the unfamiliar feminine voice, I turn my head, gaze colliding with a pair of the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. A soft, warm smile tugs on beautiful full lips as she gestures to the bench beside me. The light breeze in the air blows through her slightly wavy blonde hair, and from where I’m sitting, I can see the goosebumps covering her arms, like maybe she’s chilly despite it being warm out.
She’s stunning.
And I’m staring as she’s waiting for a response.
Clearing my throat, I reply, “Not at all.” I gesture beside me as I scoot down. “Please, have a seat.”
“I love it out here this time of day,” she murmurs as she sits down.
A subtle, sweet scent reaches me, smelling almost like… pastries? Whatever it is, it smells incredible.