Me:grandpa’s cranky about the press.
Clare:oh, jeez. I should have thought of that.
Me:did he give you permission to use his photo?
Clare:he did, but I don’t think any of us knew the attention we’d get.
She paused for a long moment.
Clare:how can I make it up to him?
Me:meet me tonight and we’ll think of something...
Smooth. Marcus would be proud. Grinning, I pocketed my phone, my imagination already painting a sunset picnic on the beach.
*
Istood at the edgeof the bluff, the wind tugging at my sleeves, the scent of salt thick in the air. The sun melted into the horizon, casting streaks of gold and crimson across the sky. It had been years since I thought about it, but suddenly, I was a kid again, standing right here, my mother’s hand wrapped around mine.
“Watch carefully, sweetheart,”she had said that first night we moved into Grandpa’s house.“If the sky’s clear and you’re lucky, you’ll see a green flash. It’s like a little secret the ocean shares with those who pay attention.”
I’d stared so hard my eyes burned, waiting for magic. And then, just as the sun slipped away, it happened—a brief, shimmering burst of green at the horizon, gone in an instant but impossible to forget. My mother had laughed, squeezing my hand.
“See? It’s real.”
Now, standing here again, I wanted to share that moment. Not with my mother this time, but with Clare. I turned, searching for her, finding her a few steps away, her face softened by the last light of day. She looked out at the waves, lost in thought, her hair catching the breeze.
“Come here,” I said, my voice quieter than usual. “I want to show you something.”
I had everything planned. The blanket was spread out on the sand, the waves rolling in just far enough to add a gentle soundtrack. A bottle of Pinot Noir rested in the ice pack, and the picnic basket held the kind of meal that would impress even Clare—rosemary grilled chicken, a crisp arugula salad with shaved Parmesan and candied pecans, and fresh sourdough from the local bakery. For dessert, I had picked up two slices of a dark chocolate tart, knowing she’d pretend she was only going to take a bite but end up finishing hers and half of mine.
Candles flickered in the breeze. For once, everything felt right. Just the two of us, the ocean, and the perfect evening.
Then, headlights cut through the dusky light, washing over us as a car rumbled down the drive.
I clenched my jaw.Now what?
Clare sighed, already getting to her feet. “Who even—?”
I pushed up and dusted the sand from my hands. “I’ll take care of it.”
She touched my arm before I could storm off. “No, I feel responsible. I’ll come with you.”
The sun was sinking fast, and the sky was painted in shades of tangerine and rose. We were going to miss it—the green flash. A childhood legend, a quiet moment I had wanted to share with her.
I exhaled, frustrated, but nodded. Together, we made our way up the path just as the car—a beat-up old station wagon covered in bumper stickers—rolled to a stop.
The driver’s side door creaked open, and out stepped a woman who might have just wandered out of a 1970s commune. Wild, silver-streaked hair, layers of flowing fabric, chunky beaded necklaces. She smiled at us like she already knew our names.
“Evening, kids.” Her voice was warm, easy, as if she belonged here.
She didn’t.
Before I could ask what she was doing on my grandfather’s property, Grandpa stepped onto the porch, his sharp eyes flicking between me, Clare, and the picnic basket still dangling from my hand. His lips twitched.
“Don’t let me keep you two from your fancy beach feast.” He crossed his arms and pointed his chin at the aging hippie. “I’ll welcome our visitor.”
Clare shot me a wary glance, but the woman beamed. “Walter! You look just like I imagined.”
