Chapter 1
“I’ve gone fishing! Be back directly, unless a fish catches me,” read the sign taped to the door of the Beach Comber’s Realty Company. The spiky handwriting on the paper seemed out of place under the manicured company name. I tried the door anyway and found it was indeed locked. “Just like a redneck,” I thought, “close the door on a dollar when he spies a shiny penny on the floor.”
I looked at my wristwatch, knowing that I wasn’t late. In fact, I was twenty minutes earlier than the appointed time, which was for 10 am. I was there to sign the lease agreement on an ocean front cottage that I planned to rent from May to August. This quaint Carolina beach, which was located on a small island off the North Carolina mainland, seemed an ideal place to vacation.
The grueling five-hour drive, through miles of deserted roads and swamps had exhausted me. My bones felt as if they made of heavy lead pipes. I stood debating about what to do when a horn sounded from a rust-covered blue jeep pulling into the drive. Three salt-water fishing rods were sitting shotgun in the vacant passenger seat, while a sun wrinkled elderly man tipped his well-worn baseball cap at me.
“How do, young lady? Wade Holcomb here at your service.” He had the charm of a southern man, warm as the sun on a chilly autumn day.
I smiled politely, resisting the urge to curtsy. “I’m Kerrie Rosewood. It is a delightful pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Holcomb. I feel as if I’ve known you forever. Being able to put a face with the voice is wonderful.”
He sheepishly grinned, “Sorry about the wait, but ole Ebb down at the pier called and said the fish were biting like fleas on a mangy mutt. I couldn’t help myself. You been waiting long?”
His friendliness charmed me. “No sir, I just pulled up. In fact, I’m a little early. Did you catch a ton of fish?”
He shooed me inside his office. “Naw, time I wet my hook, they done swam away. Have a seat there, honey.” He pointed at a cushioned wicker chair in front of his desk, which was a scattered hodgepodge of keys, brochures and business cards. Curiously, I watched him as he shuffled through his array of objects, mumbling to himself as he did. I idly wondered if the whole community was like him, nonchalant about schedules and the time. It crossed my mind that I could be making a mistake. I wanted to get away from the harsh demands of city life for a while to recuperate physically and mentally, but I didn’t want to get stuck in the land before time either.
When Mr. Holcomb grinned at me after he found his lost treasure, I was charmed again, and dismissed my previous qualm. “Well, I got some good news for you, Miss Rosewood! Do you remember that cottage with the sundeck that I told you about on the phone? The one that’s close to the pier and Beecher’s Marina?”
I nodded my head, “Yes, sir, the one that’s available to rent for three months. The sundeck is not that important, nor its location. I just want a decent place to stay in while I’m on vacation, as long as it’s close to the ocean the locale doesn’t matter.”
Mr. Holcomb looked like the cat that had eaten the prize canary. “That place ain’t available no more.”
Sardonically, I arched an eyebrow, “Is this the good news, Mr. Holcomb?”
He continued, “I know that don’t sound too good but it is! You see, I had my eye on another place for you, but I couldn’t talk Perry O’Brien, the fellow who owns it, to rent the place to you. He doesn’t live in it since his wife divorced him six months ago. He stays in the boathouse that he built out back of it. Honey, that cottage has a fireplace, three bedrooms, two decks and a hot tub. It is a doll baby of a place, believe ole Wade!”
He paused for a moment, scratching his chin, “When I found out that the marina cottage wasn’t available, I high-tailed it over to Perry’s and hammered him until he agreed to rent the cottage. He’s tough as whitleather but I wore him down. I told him that you were a respectable professional from Charlotte.”
He winked, “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him that you were a famous romance writer. Lords Be, that would a scared him right into the ocean. I bet that rascal would swim all the way to England, and never miss a stroke. He is woman shy since his wife divorced him for alienation of affection. I never heard tell of that. Most women are usually glad they don’t have to fulfill them wifely duties. All of mine did!”
How can any woman resist all this charm? I laughed, “Mr. Holcomb, thank you for being such a sweetheart, and going to a great deal trouble to find me a place to rent. I know that it has been a tough job, especially since the summer tourist season has started.”
He agreed, “Yep, most cottage owners can make more renting week to week than they can month to month. But you don’t have that problem. Wait till you see this place, Missy. It has everything that you will need. Let’s go look at it, but first you got to do one thing.” He gave me a very stern look, “You are to call me Wade. Mr. Holcomb was my father.”
I smiled, “Okay, Wade, lets go!” I was anxious to see this place and get settled into it.
I looked at my wristwatch, knowing that I wasn’t late. In fact, I was twenty minutes earlier than the appointed time, which was for 10 am. I was there to sign the lease agreement on an ocean front cottage that I planned to rent from May to August. This quaint Carolina beach, which was located on a small island off the North Carolina mainland, seemed an ideal place to vacation.
The grueling five-hour drive, through miles of deserted roads and swamps had exhausted me. My bones felt as if they made of heavy lead pipes. I stood debating about what to do when a horn sounded from a rust-covered blue jeep pulling into the drive. Three salt-water fishing rods were sitting shotgun in the vacant passenger seat, while a sun wrinkled elderly man tipped his well-worn baseball cap at me.
“How do, young lady? Wade Holcomb here at your service.” He had the charm of a southern man, warm as the sun on a chilly autumn day.
I smiled politely, resisting the urge to curtsy. “I’m Kerrie Rosewood. It is a delightful pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Holcomb. I feel as if I’ve known you forever. Being able to put a face with the voice is wonderful.”
He sheepishly grinned, “Sorry about the wait, but ole Ebb down at the pier called and said the fish were biting like fleas on a mangy mutt. I couldn’t help myself. You been waiting long?”
His friendliness charmed me. “No sir, I just pulled up. In fact, I’m a little early. Did you catch a ton of fish?”
He shooed me inside his office. “Naw, time I wet my hook, they done swam away. Have a seat there, honey.” He pointed at a cushioned wicker chair in front of his desk, which was a scattered hodgepodge of keys, brochures and business cards. Curiously, I watched him as he shuffled through his array of objects, mumbling to himself as he did. I idly wondered if the whole community was like him, nonchalant about schedules and the time. It crossed my mind that I could be making a mistake. I wanted to get away from the harsh demands of city life for a while to recuperate physically and mentally, but I didn’t want to get stuck in the land before time either.
When Mr. Holcomb grinned at me after he found his lost treasure, I was charmed again, and dismissed my previous qualm. “Well, I got some good news for you, Miss Rosewood! Do you remember that cottage with the sundeck that I told you about on the phone? The one that’s close to the pier and Beecher’s Marina?”
I nodded my head, “Yes, sir, the one that’s available to rent for three months. The sundeck is not that important, nor its location. I just want a decent place to stay in while I’m on vacation, as long as it’s close to the ocean the locale doesn’t matter.”
Mr. Holcomb looked like the cat that had eaten the prize canary. “That place ain’t available no more.”
Sardonically, I arched an eyebrow, “Is this the good news, Mr. Holcomb?”
He continued, “I know that don’t sound too good but it is! You see, I had my eye on another place for you, but I couldn’t talk Perry O’Brien, the fellow who owns it, to rent the place to you. He doesn’t live in it since his wife divorced him six months ago. He stays in the boathouse that he built out back of it. Honey, that cottage has a fireplace, three bedrooms, two decks and a hot tub. It is a doll baby of a place, believe ole Wade!”
He paused for a moment, scratching his chin, “When I found out that the marina cottage wasn’t available, I high-tailed it over to Perry’s and hammered him until he agreed to rent the cottage. He’s tough as whitleather but I wore him down. I told him that you were a respectable professional from Charlotte.”
He winked, “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him that you were a famous romance writer. Lords Be, that would a scared him right into the ocean. I bet that rascal would swim all the way to England, and never miss a stroke. He is woman shy since his wife divorced him for alienation of affection. I never heard tell of that. Most women are usually glad they don’t have to fulfill them wifely duties. All of mine did!”
How can any woman resist all this charm? I laughed, “Mr. Holcomb, thank you for being such a sweetheart, and going to a great deal trouble to find me a place to rent. I know that it has been a tough job, especially since the summer tourist season has started.”
He agreed, “Yep, most cottage owners can make more renting week to week than they can month to month. But you don’t have that problem. Wait till you see this place, Missy. It has everything that you will need. Let’s go look at it, but first you got to do one thing.” He gave me a very stern look, “You are to call me Wade. Mr. Holcomb was my father.”
I smiled, “Okay, Wade, lets go!” I was anxious to see this place and get settled into it.
penned by Painter Lady at 11:29 PM
2 Comments:
I noticed a couple of mistakes but before I mention them I just want to say that I can't wait to read the next instalment :D (have spelt instalment with one "L" cos' it's only got one in the UK dictionary but am telling you this so that you don't just think I'm being a pretentious hypocrite by pointing out your mistakes when in reality I can't spell. Anyway, enough of my ramblings and back to the matter at hand).
The paragraph that begins "He continue....."
1) you wrote "I couldn’t talk Perry O’Brien, the fellow who owns it to rent it to you."
Maybe I am incorrect but I think another comma should be added after "the fellow who owns it" so the sentence becomes "I couldn’t talk Perry O’Brien, the fellow who owns it, to rent it to you."
2) "He doesn’t live in it since he wife"
Maybe that should be "his wife"
Lalala I'll go bother someone else now.
xx
Sarah hb... thank you. Thank you. I missed that in the editing. See...you're gonna make a great editor. You use kindness with information. Hey, you multi-tasked. lol..
:)
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