I couldn’t believe it. I stared down at the message glaring from my phone before I dumped the device on my kitchen counter in favor of pouring a cup of coffee.
As I stirred in the vanilla-flavored creamer, I shook my head, mostly at myself. What had I expected? At my ripe age of…well, never mind. Let’s just say I’m old enough to know better.
I left my phone behind and swung open the French doors leading to my rear deck.
Bright sunshine left me squinting and retreating to seek out my sunglasses before trying again.
This time the experience went swimmingly with my bedazzled, oversized tinted specs slid over my dark blue eyes. I usually got compliments on the color, but having light-colored eyes made the sun sensitivity worse.
I sank into the overstuffed cushion on my chaise and kicked my feet up. Beyond the dunes edging my property, the ocean lapped gently at the sandy shore. The sparkling waters barely rippled on this calm morning.
The stillness reminded me of small-town life. Nothing ever happened in Crystal Cove. And I do mean nothing. Outside of its picturesque streets and pristine beaches, not a dang thing has ever happened. Which is fine by me.
Sure, occasionally a tourist may get into a fender bender, but since there are no large hotels within the town limits, even the tourist incidents are feeble at best.
The last major happening was when the Halloween festival almost got canceled because someone forgot to order the cider. There was a major uproar. Luckily, Gwen’s cousin happened to be an apple farmer with a farm about two hours inland. We managed to get a good deal on the cider, and the festival went on.
The discussion about that went on until at least Thanksgiving…of the following year. That’s how little happens in the small beach town of Crystal Cove.
