member, Eleanor Thatcher has left her home and working inn to me, Beryl Meyer.
It’s my first kismet, good-timing, lottery type of miracle. It’s my chance for a new life. No, I’m not going to run an inn. I don’t want to be tied down to anything, and I have no idea how to be a hotel owner. Instead, I’m going to sell the inn, invest my money, and live on the proceeds. I’m going to get a little place in Seattle or Portland and live a perfect life on my investment. I’m going to find myself. I’m going to be re-born, learn to meditate, and drink vanilla lattes. What a relief to finally have security. What a relief to leave my old life behind me.
After a couple of hours on the ferry boat, Summer Island comes into view, and we dock at the small harbor. The village is quaint and colorful, and I half-expect Opie to appear.
“Would you like a ride to the High Tide Inn?” Cade asks me after we disembark. His lips are swollen and chafed, and his orange jumpsuit is hanging off his shoulders at an angle. Kissing has done some damage. I decline his offer, since I have a meeting at the attorney’s office in charge of my aunt’s will in the center of town before I can go to the inn. Cade and Millie wave goodbye to me, kiss each other one more time, hop into a little golf cart, and putt-putt away. I’ve made it to the next phase of the new phase of my life, and I’m all alone.
The island is swarming with golf carts and the occasional Segway, but I don’t see a car or a taxi. Luckily, the attorney’s office isn’t far away. Swinging the duffel bag over my shoulder, I take a step off the sidewalk and head down the street, which is lined with colorful, two-story buildings. The buildings’ bottom floors are devoted to cute shops, and as far as I can tell, the second floors are apartments. It’s a lot like Disneyland. I wouldn’t bat an eye if Mickey Mouse popped around the corner to say hi.
At the end of the street, I arrive at a plaza with a dilapidated, dry fountain in its center. Whereas the rest of the village is well-kept, the fountain is a mess. Its plaster is cracked, and there isn’t a drop of water in it. Still, I’m drawn to the massive structure. I take the time to walk across the street and peek inside. The bottom of the fountain is covered in a layer of coins, as if everyone on the island has tossed change into it, like it has some kind of magical powers to make dreams come true. Even though the fountain’s dry, it’s a wish magnet. To prove my point, a tall, muscular man joins me. He stands across from me at the fountain’s edge, and he’s looking down in it, just like I am. After a moment, he closes his eyes and tosses a coin in. It falls with a clank, as it hits the dry plaster and some of the other coins. He looks at it for a second and then seemingly content, he walks away.
Oh, why not?
If the fountain is so popular for wishes, I might as well give it a shot. I take one of my last coins out of my bag. Closing my eyes, I focus on my wish. Please let me sell this inn and get the money I need for my investment so that I can find myself and spend my days at coffee houses with hipsters and learn how to meditate and do whatever hipsters do with crystals. Please let me sell the inn. Please let me have money. Please let me get a credit card and basic cable. Please, please, please. I tentatively toss the coin in. It barely makes it over the lip of the fountain, and rolls down the side, making its way around the other coins until it finally rests by the muscly tall man’s coin. They lay there side by side…my dull nickel and his shiny quarter.
Hmm…I don’t feel any different. There doesn’t seem to be a wave of magic happening. No Freaky Friday, alternate universe, change of life in a non-hormonal way, woo-woo wish-granting. Nothing. Truthfully, I don’t know if wishes are even real. But it only cost me a nickel, and that’s a pretty good deal, even if things go haywire with the will. I’m
It’s my first kismet, good-timing, lottery type of miracle. It’s my chance for a new life. No, I’m not going to run an inn. I don’t want to be tied down to anything, and I have no idea how to be a hotel owner. Instead, I’m going to sell the inn, invest my money, and live on the proceeds. I’m going to get a little place in Seattle or Portland and live a perfect life on my investment. I’m going to find myself. I’m going to be re-born, learn to meditate, and drink vanilla lattes. What a relief to finally have security. What a relief to leave my old life behind me.
After a couple of hours on the ferry boat, Summer Island comes into view, and we dock at the small harbor. The village is quaint and colorful, and I half-expect Opie to appear.
“Would you like a ride to the High Tide Inn?” Cade asks me after we disembark. His lips are swollen and chafed, and his orange jumpsuit is hanging off his shoulders at an angle. Kissing has done some damage. I decline his offer, since I have a meeting at the attorney’s office in charge of my aunt’s will in the center of town before I can go to the inn. Cade and Millie wave goodbye to me, kiss each other one more time, hop into a little golf cart, and putt-putt away. I’ve made it to the next phase of the new phase of my life, and I’m all alone.
The island is swarming with golf carts and the occasional Segway, but I don’t see a car or a taxi. Luckily, the attorney’s office isn’t far away. Swinging the duffel bag over my shoulder, I take a step off the sidewalk and head down the street, which is lined with colorful, two-story buildings. The buildings’ bottom floors are devoted to cute shops, and as far as I can tell, the second floors are apartments. It’s a lot like Disneyland. I wouldn’t bat an eye if Mickey Mouse popped around the corner to say hi.
At the end of the street, I arrive at a plaza with a dilapidated, dry fountain in its center. Whereas the rest of the village is well-kept, the fountain is a mess. Its plaster is cracked, and there isn’t a drop of water in it. Still, I’m drawn to the massive structure. I take the time to walk across the street and peek inside. The bottom of the fountain is covered in a layer of coins, as if everyone on the island has tossed change into it, like it has some kind of magical powers to make dreams come true. Even though the fountain’s dry, it’s a wish magnet. To prove my point, a tall, muscular man joins me. He stands across from me at the fountain’s edge, and he’s looking down in it, just like I am. After a moment, he closes his eyes and tosses a coin in. It falls with a clank, as it hits the dry plaster and some of the other coins. He looks at it for a second and then seemingly content, he walks away.
Oh, why not?
If the fountain is so popular for wishes, I might as well give it a shot. I take one of my last coins out of my bag. Closing my eyes, I focus on my wish. Please let me sell this inn and get the money I need for my investment so that I can find myself and spend my days at coffee houses with hipsters and learn how to meditate and do whatever hipsters do with crystals. Please let me sell the inn. Please let me have money. Please let me get a credit card and basic cable. Please, please, please. I tentatively toss the coin in. It barely makes it over the lip of the fountain, and rolls down the side, making its way around the other coins until it finally rests by the muscly tall man’s coin. They lay there side by side…my dull nickel and his shiny quarter.
Hmm…I don’t feel any different. There doesn’t seem to be a wave of magic happening. No Freaky Friday, alternate universe, change of life in a non-hormonal way, woo-woo wish-granting. Nothing. Truthfully, I don’t know if wishes are even real. But it only cost me a nickel, and that’s a pretty good deal, even if things go haywire with the will. I’m
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