Rocky Point Reunion by Barbara McMahon Page A

stairs that led to the beach.
    â€œOkay, but only if you hold the handrail and go slowly. Sally Anne can follow you and Marcie and I will be right behind you both.”
    As Marcie descended, she looked at the familiar sheltered beach. It wasn’t large, as beaches around this area of the coast went. Sheltered by the rocky bluff that seemed to hold it in open arms, it had limited use, primarily by the Kincaids and their friends. Sophie Parkerson had shared the beach when she was young, but in her last years the steep steps had proved to be too much for her. Gillian had enjoyed the beach a bit since she’d arrived, but it would get the most use during the warm summer months.
    She saw that Zack had already laid the wood for a fire, encircled by weathered stones that his parents had cartedfrom the base of the bluff decades ago. The larger ones were to sit on or lean against. The circle of smaller ones were to contain the fire.
    There was a cooler nearby, which she suspected held dinner.
    Had he missed this when he’d been gone? The carrying on of traditional events? The familiar routines that had been a part of his youth? Had he established new ones in Europe?
    â€œCan we go wading?” Jenny asked, standing near the high-water mark on the sand.
    â€œAs long as you don’t get your shorts or shirts wet,” Zack said with a smile.
    With squeals of joy, the two little girls took off their sandals and raced to the edge of the spent wave. Dancing on the packed sand, having the water splash over their feet, seemed to be the height of delight.
    â€œWant to go wading?” Zack asked.
    â€œSure. Let me put down the brownies.”
    â€œI remember you baking a lot when we were teenagers,” he said, walking with her to the fire pit.
    â€œThese aren’t mine. The sisters made them—I just asked for an extra batch today when they were baking. I don’t do much cooking anymore.” It didn’t seem necessary when she had delicious food prepared for her. And she didn’t like to cook for only one. Her meals at home were primarily breakfast foods. Since moving out of her dad’s home, she rarely baked anymore.
    As the afternoon moved into evening, Marcie realized she was enjoying herself as she hadn’t in a long time. The girls kept her laughing. Zack told them stories of some countries he’d visited, and they all hung on his words. Paris came alive; the hectic traffic of Rome had them asking if he raced in the streets. When he spoke of the fjords ofScandinavia, the girls likened them to Rocky Point. When he made light of an act of kindness, she remembered all the more why she’d loved him all those years ago. He had been wild and exciting, but also a kind kid. He’d often done things for Sophie, she recalled. He and Joe had cut her lawn, kept her car in running order. For them it had been fun fiddling with an old car. Marcie knew Sophie had been grateful. Once he’d told her that he considered Sophie a kind of grandmother. Did he know how much his helping her had pleased Sophie?
    The hot dogs were a huge success, as was the fire. When they toasted marshmallows on sticks, Jenny declared it the best day ever.
    It was growing dark when Zack suggested they head up to the house.
    â€œI don’t want to go yet,” Jenny said, marshmallow smeared on one cheek.
    â€œI have to lug all this stuff back up—I don’t want to do it in total darkness,” Zack said.
    â€œWe can help,” Sally Anne offered.
    â€œHow about Zack takes the cooler up and we’ll bring the rest,” Marcie countered. “And we’ll let him go up first and wait until it’s almost dark before we go up the stairs.”
    â€œOkay,” Jenny said. “You can wait for us at the top, Uncle Zack. I know, go get a flashlight from the kitchen, then we can come up with that.”
    â€œI didn’t hear an offer to help carry the cooler.”
    â€œOh,