Reunited at Last (Gretchen)

Two very real women take a fictional trip to the Outer Banks.

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Even though I've lived in this little but mesmerizing strip of sand for thirty years, I am still in awe. To be able to walk to the beach at sunrise, or finish the day watching the sunset on the sound, is something that I don't brush off as ordinary. I feel so lucky. It's hard to make it down here. The job market is tight, unless you want seasonal work. With that, you have the feast or famine lifestyle. You can easily put in fifty to seventy hours a week in the height of tourist season, and then dwindle down to twenty hours in the off season (if you're lucky enough not to get laid off.)

The first thing I do when I go in the over sized house is stake out my room. There are six bedrooms to chose from. After looking at all of them, I leave the second floor master bedroom for Rachelle. She is the type to need the spacious white on white room with its ocean facing windows, and the master bath with a steam shower, Jacuzzi tub and floor to ceiling mirrors.

I walk further down the hall to a pale blue bedroom, with four windows facing the dunes and sea grass on the side of the house. There is a little en-suite bathroom complete with a claw foot tub.
I toss my duffel bag onto the chair in the corner and head back downstairs. I probably should have stopped at a grocery store but I just wasn't thinking. Everything happened so fast.

I grab my phone and call Chuck, just to let him know I made it to the house safely.

"You wouldn't believe the size of this place," I say, tilting my head to hold the phone in place while my fingers are touching every surface I walk by. "Six bedrooms. Who wants a house with six bedrooms?"

"Someone with five kids, would be my guess," he says.

"I guess so. The view is spectacular. It is right on the beach. I mean right on it."

"Has Rachelle gotten there yet?"

"No, but her plane landed about an hour ago, shouldn't be too much longer. She's renting a car at the airport. Look, I need to run to the grocery store. I didn't think about stopping before I got here. I love you. Call you later."

"Love you, too," he says.

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Eighty dollars poorer, I leave the little grocery store with two bottles of wine, some ground beef, sauce and noodles for spaghetti, some fruit, and a few snack items.

The real estate rental company had placed a basket with some goodies on the coffee table in the living room. Not sure how I missed it before, but it was full of muffins, cookies and hand dipped chocolates. I stare at it. I should wait for Rachelle. I touch the satin ribbon that is tied around the clear cellophane wrapper. I mean, if the bow comes untied, its going to look like I have already dug in. I should wait. That's what a good friend would do.

Even as the words are circling around in my brain, my greedy little fingers are tugging the ribbon. I toss the flimsy ribbon away like a stripper throws her G-string. I pluck a chocolate covered strawberry and cast a cautious glance towards the door. I take a small teasing bite and let the dark chocolate melt on my tongue. Oh, but I could get used to this.

I'm amazed at how quickly I eat all six strawberries. Amazed and just a little bit embarrassed. After tossing the evidence in the trash, I hear the low rumble of an approaching car. She is here. At long last, Rachelle Allen is here, on my turf. No Amish, no goats, no Jersey shore, just good old Atlantic ocean and Carolina blue skies.

I open the front door and run down the steps. The breeze is tossing red curls around her porcelain skinned face. "I made it!" she squeals. "I can't believe it."

"I know. And I'm sorry about the chocolate covered strawberries. I was just gonna have one, but, they were just so good. You're here!" I step back from our hug, wave my hand at the house and grin. "Can you believe it!?! We're doing this."

Rachelle motions for me to follow her to the back of her rental car. She pops the trunk and pulls out not one, not two, but three bags.

"How long are you planning to stay here, Allen?"

"What, this is just enough to get through to Wednesday. I'm planning on going shopping at some point."

"Where? At all of those malls you passed driving down here?"

Rachelle frowns. "I don't remember any malls?"

"Exactly. No place to shop around here." I say.

She looks clearly disappointed. "Oh, well. Let's get these bags in the house and settle in. We have a novel to write."

I hoist the suitcase up and hobble to the steps. "What the hell did you pack, Allen? Cement?"

"You owe me, Hargis. You ate all the strawberries, so put a sock in it and carry that bag in the house."

"Yes, Ma'am."

And so it begins. One glorious week together. Writing our story, enjoying a little bit of paradise here on the Outer Banks.

It's going to be a good week. Yes, siree. I mean, what could go wrong?