Brenna laughed. “Yeah, that’s pretty obvious then.”
“I am surprised you don’t know how to surf already,” I said. “You grew up here.”
Brenna sighed and looked away, embarrassed. “I know. But when I was little, I was afraid of the ocean and never wanted to learn. But I’m graduating in six weeks, and then I’m heading off to college in New York. I know that everyone is going to ask me if I surf, and I want to be able to tell them that I do.”
“Oh,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I hadn’t known she was planning on going to college in New York, and I had also never heard of anyone wanting to be able to say they could surf. That was likely because, having grown up on the coast and then going to college on the coast, nearly everyone I knew had surfed at least once in their life.
“I know, I know,” she said. “It’s silly. But it’s a thing. So I’m going to learn.”
“Well, okay,” I said. “I don’t exactly get it, but that’s cool you want to learn. Can I help teach you? I’ve been surfing since I was a little kid, and I have worked as a lifeguard on these shores every summer since I was 16. I could not, in good conscience, let you go out there without me helping you.”
“Really? You could help me!” Brenna asked, smiling broadly.
“Of course,” I said.
“Awesome, thank you!”
“Sure thing. The first lesson is this: Don’t put the leash on until right before you go into the water.”
Brenna laughed. “Noted,” she said.
“Great. Now, take the leash off because we are going to spend some time just working here on the sand.”
She agreed, and I spent the rest of the day teaching her how to surf. At some point, Sam left the beach and went back to my house, but I didn’t really pay attention to him. I was having too much fun. That evening, when Brenna successfully caught her first wave and rode it all the way in, I don’t know which one of us was happier.
Chapter 1
Brenna
Ten Years Later
I stared at the paper in my hand, not believing what it said.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked, looking at the lawyer sitting across from me. “I mean, it just doesn’t make sense to me.”
Mr. Jacobson shrugged his shoulders and smiled. He was kind, and very different from how I expected a lawyer to be. Although, to be fair, he was the first lawyer I had ever interacted with.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “This is what my client wanted.”
“Mr. Reynolds? The nice old man who lived down the street from me when I was a kid? These were his wishes?”
“I didn’t know that he lived down the street from you when you were a kid,” Mr. Jacobson said. “However, he was my client, and these were his wishes.”
“I’m inheriting the Bed and Breakfast he ran,” I said, slowly reading the paper aloud. “And it is mine to do with as I please.”
“Yes, that is correct,” Mr. Jacobson replied. “Here on this paper it states that you are now the proud owner of Tide’s Pull Bed and Breakfast. You may continue to operate it, hire someone else to run it, sell it—truly, whatever you wish.”
I shook my head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Clearly you made an impact on him. And he wanted you to have this property.”
I was grateful for his kindness, but I couldn’t help but feel guilty.
“What about the rest of his family? I know that he had granddaughters who were about my age. I used to play with them when they would come and visit.”
Mr. Jacobson shook his head. “I cannot disclose the rest of my client’s wishes, but I can assure you that you have nothing to feel guilty about. Shall we sign all of the paperwork? It seems to me as if you have a Bed and Breakfast to tend to.”
“Let’s do it,” I said, shrugging my shoulders and picking up a pen.
